Chapter Text
21 BBY
Kamino
CC-80/88-3009 was irritated.
He was certainly no stranger to that particular emotion; he felt it often enough during the battle simulations. When his blaster jammed, when his shots pulled too far to the right, when reinforcements suddenly appeared when it seemed they might win an exercise with minimal casualties, all that irritated him to no end. But at least that kind of irritation was directed outward, at things that weren’t his fault, that was something he knew he could handle. To be told, however, that he still wasn’t good enough, that he would in fact need to receive further training at the direction of Advanced Recon Commandos…that hit differently somehow. 09 Scowled under his helmet and clenched one hand into a fist, the other gripping tightly on the handle that dangled from the roof of the LAAT. For a moment, he thought the plastoid ring might crack under the pressure he was exerting. He wished it would, just so that he’d have something to take his anger out on, even if it was just an inanimate object. It felt like there was a fire blazing away in his chest, and not even the torrential downpour and the cold waters of Kamino would be able to douse it.
The larty bucked as it hit a patch of turbulence, the thirty or so clone commanders pulled from the clone military education complex stood firm, as if it was a smooth commute to work on a maglev train on Coruscant. The training centre might have been part of Tipoca City, but the sheer size of the cityscape meant it was faster to fly to their destination. In the cramped confines of the trooper compartment, it was a small sea of white and yellow armoured troopers all clustered together, shoulder to shoulder. Not a one of them said a word, none of them felt the need to. Except for the constant hum of the engines, the howling of the winds and the beating of the rain against the hull, it was silent inside the transport, each trooper almost rigidly still and ramrod straight as they waited to land. As they did, 09’s free hand continued to clench and unclench, in one of the rare moments he wished he were out of armour, so that he could feel his nails digging into the calloused skin of his palm.
The others who he shared the transport with, 09 did not know, although every individual’s armour bore blaster burns or dents to indicate they had known combat before. They had all undergone years of rigorous training, from flash learning to simulated battlefields to shape them into clone commanders, destined to lead anything from battalions to full Corps. They were just some of dozens of other commanders who had received the sudden orders to report to the landing platforms for this so-called “ARC program”. From what 09 had heard, there would be a hundred of them all up in this experimental first class.
The larty swung in a wide arc and the massive domed pods of Tipoca City were lost to 09’s vision as he peered through the narrow slots of the larty’s door. It was replaced with the churning black oceans of Kamino, towering waves crashing against the stilts that kept the city aloft. With a quiet, almost imperceptible hiss that 09 might not have caught if not for his helmet’s finely tuned audio sensors, the doors began to slide open and the larty began its descent onto the landing platform. Dimly, 09 could just make out three more transports through the lashing rain, their lights set to full, all on similar flight paths.
Standing there on the platform ready to greet them was a single ARC trooper bearing the blue stripes of a lieutenant, his arms folded behind his back. 09 cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, regarding the lieutenant as the larty hovered above the platform, the strong winds buffeting the transport and making landing a slower process than it should have been. He was the first ARC trooper 09 had ever seen, but their reputation preceded them of course. The Alphas, they were supposed to be the real deal, trained by the prime clone himself to be smarter, stronger, faster than the rest of them.
Better.
I expected they might look a little different at least, 09 thought, his eyes scanning up and down the ARC trooper from behind his visor. In truth, he didn’t look too different from the rest of them, and it seemed somehow…surprising. Oh, there were differences, certainly, the rangefinder he wore flipped over one eye, the pauldron that was draped over one shoulder and the skirt like kama that was attached to the back of his belt were the obvious things. Perhaps the one detail that stood out the most was the blue number painted just over the trooper’s visor, above his left eye, ‘11’, his designation, most likely. But his build looked to be the same, his height seemed no different from theirs either.
A moment later, all four larties settled down on the water drenched platform and almost as one, 09 and the other commanders aboard stepped off, their boots splashing in puddles of water before they made two rows of fifteen each, stood at attention and waited to be addressed. Addressed by a lieutenant, 09 huffed under his helmet.
For a good, long moment, the lieutenant didn’t say anything, he just ran his gaze up and down the double row of commanders slowly, his head turning back and forth as he surveyed them. Finally, he shrugged and spun on his heel, motioning them to follow with two fingers as he walked towards the city proper. 09 couldn’t help but blink at that, trading a quick glance with the man next to him. They hesitated, before they marched in unison after the lieutenant, their steps perfectly synchronised.
Some greeting, 09 thought, glowering at the back of the ARC trooper’s head. Somehow, he found his sense of irritation increasing.
They walked through the familiar, sterile white halls of Kamino, each footstep echoing sharply as one hundred clones strode purposefully along the finely polished floors. 09’s eyes flicked back and forth; it was, he realised, his birthplace, this was the dome where the main cloning laboratories were located. It was the first time he had been back since he had been decanted. He couldn’t say he felt much of anything about his first homecoming in years, there was a strange emptiness in his chest. I guess sentimentality isn’t something they trained us for, 09 mentally shrugged, wondering if perhaps he should feel something. He grimaced under his helmet, emotions were so damn complicated, it was why he preferred to deal with things he could at least shoot his way out of.
Lieutenant Eleven, as 09 had dubbed the mute ARC trooper, continued to be utterly silent. 09 furrowed his brow as he examined the lieutenant’s gait, it seemed noticeably different from that of the other clones. He walked at a measured pace, but he wasn’t as stiff as the commanders, his posture seemed more relaxed. Every so often, he’d toss a glance over his shoulder, as if to make sure his charges were still following him, and 09 had to suppress his urge to bristle at the unsaid implication that they would need to be babysat like cadets. With each glance, 09 was certain he could feel that Lieutenant Eleven was judging every last one of them.
After a few minutes, they arrived at their destination, Lieutenant Eleven leading them through a set of doors and into a large auditorium lined with seats descending down, a holotable at the bottom of the room and past that, a floor-to-ceiling window.
And when he caught sight of the view, 09 finally did feel something.
His eyes widened as he saw into the cloning chambers of Kamino. Inside the vast room, he could see thousands of cylindrical tanks, a tiny, still growing clone floating inside. The tanks were arranged in rings atop huge, disc-shaped platforms that wrapped around towering, fluid-filled tubes that stretched all the way to the cavernous ceiling. 09 felt his mouth go dry at the sight of all those developing clone troopers, the next generation of soldiers, still just growing embryos. They hung suspended in nutrient rich liquid, supplying them with all they needed to grow up to become just like them. It was only after a moment that 09 realised his jaw was open just slightly and he closed it, glad that his helmet had covered that up. It took him another moment to realise that the assembled clones weren’t the only beings in the room.
Standing there on the opposite side of the holotable was a single Kaminoan woman and a pair of ARC troopers in captains red stripes. The lead captain looked very much the same as Lieutenant Eleven, the only real difference was the colours of his stripes, but the captain to the right and behind him looked distinct. He wore a different helmet to the others, the visor two downturned triangles that met just above the nose in a narrow band, the mouth of the helmet jutting out like a short snout, terminating in a semi-ovular grill. To 09, it seemed to resemble a scowling face, and he had to admit, he approved of the look. 09 noticed that much like Lieutenant Eleven had his number painted above his visor, so did the captain, ‘56’ in red. Captain Fifty-Six’s armour was likewise unique compared to his fellows, the torso sticking out more compared to the smoother trooper armour the rest of them wore. It took 09 a second to recognise Captain Fifty-Six for what he was, an ARC heavy gunner, those ARCs who were fearless even amongst their peers, the vanguard of an attack force, wielding the most devastating of weapons. Lieutenant Eleven stepped up beside the captains, taking his place alongside them, arms still clasped behind his back.
The Kaminoan 09 recognised, she was Taun We, Project Coordinator of the GAR, her hands folded in front of her. She stood tall and regal, peering down at them from her long neck, her grey eyes wide. The corners of her mouth were tugged up ever so faintly, 09 noted, in what might be the hint of a fond smile, even if only barely.
“Welcome, commanders. Please, be seated,” Taun We said in her soft, soothing voice, inclining her head towards them just slightly, waiting for them to drift into the auditorium and find seats. “It pleases us greatly to see a new batch of officers having completed the first stage of your training. You have all been selected to take part in this program because each of you has demonstrated qualities beyond those of typical clone commanders. Each of you has shown not just considerable skill and leadership, but also adaptability and initiative, above those of what standard programming can instil. This program is designed to push the boundaries of clone development, to elevate command-capable troopers beyond their original parameters. You will be refined.” She motioned towards the lead ARC captain with one hand, her long, dainty fingers splayed out. “You will be overseen by Captain Alpha-17 and the ARC troopers here; their own combat experience and the training they received from the prime clone has forged them into the most formidable soldiers of the GAR. It is their goal to ensure that you become as capable as they are, to learn to think independently, as they do.”
09 frowned at Taun We’s words. Taught to think independently? After they’ve spent years beating it into our heads that we need to act as a cohesive unit? It seemed paradoxical to him, and he repeated the sentence over and over again, trying to make sense of it. He was still trying to work it out when he noticed Taun We was stepping aside to allow the lead captain to move forward. He took his helmet off and tucked it beneath one arm, revealing the battle-hardened face beneath it. Scars lined his face, covering his left eye, his cheek, his nose, his lips. His familiar brown eyes, they seemed different than the ones that peered back at 09 in the mirror, there was a hardness to them, a cold edge that chilled him as much as the simulated snowfields back in the training centre did.
And there it was, 09 realised with a start, the difference between them and the ARC troopers.
“My name is Alpha,” he said, jerking his head back to the other ARC troopers. “That’s Captain Darakhan and Lieutenant Lev behind me; they’ll just be some of the instructors who’ll be evaluating you in the coming weeks.” Alpha set his helmet down on the desk, before placing his hands on it, leaning forward and staring down his nose at the assembled commanders. “You’re here because High Command says you’re not good enough.”
09’s hands clenched down into tight fists at Alpha’s words, and he grit his teeth. Not good enough? His eyes flicked to his left and right, trying to gauge how his fellow commanders felt about Alpha’s words. A few of them seemed to have tensed up just slightly, a few more of them had their hands balled up as his were.
Alpha let his words hang in the air, his gaze sweeping over them for a moment before he continued. “You might have excelled in the simulations, but at the end of the day, that’s all they were, simulations. Nothing, and I mean nothing can compare with real battle experience.” He jerked his head again. “Lieutenant Lev was on Muunilinst, helping to dig the IGBC out from their fortified homeworld, survived a crashed larty. Immediately after, he was sent out as part of a team to save a bunch of Jedi from Hypori, first time we caught sight of General Grievous. We lost four fellow ARCs that day, Lev was lucky not to be among them.” He waved over to the heavy gunner captain. “Captain Darakhan here was at the meatgrinder that was Nadiem. He, his squad and their Jedi Commander were stuck behind enemy lines and had to play dead to let an advancing Separatist army pass them. They launched a rear attack on the Separatist forces and used explosives to drop a cliffside on them.”
Another pause from Alpha as he let the other ARC troopers deeds sink in. The Captain and the Lieutenant said nothing, they just stood where they were, Lieutenant Lev’s arms still behind his back, Captain Darakhan’s arms folded across his front.
After a moment, Alpha resumed speaking, motioning to himself. “As for myself? I was on Ohma-D’un to investigate why a Gungan colony went silent, found the whole settlement wiped out by a Separatist bioweapon that ate their flesh away. Next, they sent me to that mud soaked hellscape of Jabiim, where I had a walker explode in my face. The Jedi I was with and I were captured, brought to Rattatak and tortured for weeks before we could fight our way free. That’s when they gave me my new position here.” Alpha exhaled slowly, looking around the commanders again. “I don’t tell you this to brag, simply to demonstrate my experiences out in the field. I came out of it alive because of the skills the prime clone taught me, because he taught me how to think on my feet. And that’s where we come in, we’ll by drilling those same lessons into your thick stulls. You won’t be coddled, it’ll be a long and gruelling process, I can promise you that. But, if you succeed, you’ll be a new breed of commander, more independent than your predecessors, able to act when you find yourselves with no legion to back you up and no Jedi to give you orders. We’ll begin immediately. You’ll each be assigned a squad to work with, I know you were all expecting to be out there, leading thousands of clone troopers, but in here, under our watch, you’ll be starting off small. They’re waiting back at the training centre, but this time, there’s no cushy larty to take you back, you’ll be running back like you’ve got a Separatist army on your tail…start running!”
And like that, every last commander had shot up to their feet and were sprinting to the exit door, hurrying outside and making a mad dash back for the military education complex. 09’s fists were clenched tighter than ever, his arms pumping up and down furiously, his armoured legs making long strides as he ran down the halls. His fellow commanders were all around him, some ahead of him, others behind, but they all kept roughly the same pace. It seemed that their position had been set by how close they were to the door when Alpha had barked the order to run. 09 clamped his jaw tight, trying to summon every bit of strength he had available, trying to inch out just a little bit further than the rest of the commanders. Alpha hadn’t said it was a race, but even so, 09 was determined not to be the last one there, and if he could, he wanted to be one of the very first.
Better? I’ll show them better! He thought, doing his best to keep his breathing measured as he sucked in lungful after lungful of breath, sweat pouring down his face.