As CX-2 walked into the briefing room, he was still mulling over the problem of how to get an officer to help him request that clone trooper’s file. He didn’t know Captain Kirgard well enough to know how he might react to such a strange request, and he certainly didn’t want to explain why he needed restricted information on a potentially non-existent clone from a potentially false memory.
This memory seemed so real, though, and the file did exist…
He snapped a salute to Captain Kirgard, then pulled his white helmet off and sat down at the round table next to Dahl. Ferrus glowered at the clone, lip curled, but turned her attention back to the captain.
“Alright,” Kirgard said. “We’ve got our orders, fresh from Grand Moff Tarkin himself.”
“Tarkin, eh?” Dahl said. He was leaning back, arms crossed over his white chestplate, ankles crossed. He was the picture of relaxation. “No pressure, right?”
“At least it’s not Vader,” Ferrus said. In contrast to Dahl, Ferrus was slightly hunched over, taut and wound like a spring.
“True.”
The stormtrooper captain tapped the controls on the holoprojector, causing a holograph of a middle-aged man with close-cropped blonde hair and an all-too-familiar face. A clone.
“Your target is one of our own–CT-7567, former captain of the 501st Legion.”
Dahl whistled and leaned forward. Ferrus sat up straighter in her seat, eyes suddenly bright with interest.
Dahl saw CX-2’s blank look and said, “Captain Rex. He’s something of a legend from the Clone Wars. Surely you’ve heard of him.”
CX-2 thought for a moment. “Did he lead a cell of rogue clones after he deserted the Empire?”
Kirgard nodded. “He deserted shortly after the formation of the Empire and has devoted his life since then to improving clones’ rights.”
“That doesn’t seem so bad,” CX-2 said.
“He’s not always the most peaceful of protestors,” Kirgard said wryly. “The last confrontation with him ended in three dozen civilian casualties. As such, we’ve been tasked to bring him in–dead or alive.”
“He’s not going to be an easy catch,” Ferrus mused.
“We’ve caught a bit of a break there.” Kirgard tapped the controls again. A holoschematic of a modified light transport ship in glowing blue light to spring up before them. “Intel has strong reason to believe that Rex will be on a transport from the Outer Rim to Coruscant. The transport will make one stop on Corellia, where we will board the transport and intercept the target.”
“Does he have any identifying features?” Dahl asked. “Otherwise, how will we know its him and not another clone?”
Kirgard nodded. “Before Rex defected, he had an inhibitor chip removed from his brain. He has a scar from that surgery on the right side of his head.”
CX-2 leaned forward, curiosity piqued. “What is his mission?”
“Not important to our mission.”
CX-2 raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Is he traveling with anyone?”
“Unclear.”
CX-2 crossed his arms over his chest. “Not the best intel if we do not know what we are getting ourselves into.”
“This is our first lead on this target in months,” Kirgard said. “Rex is one of the most dangerous insurgents out there, so we’ve been authorized to use whatever force necessary to neutralize the threat. I’m also authorized to call on reinforcements should the need arise. What Rex is up to is unimportant.”
CX-2 looked unconvinced.
Kirgard’s jaw muscles bunched. He glared at the clone. “We have our orders, trooper. Board the transport, eliminate the target. Understood?”
Something clicked into place in CX-2’s brain. An eagerness to please slid into the forefront of his brain, and any thought of the gaunt clone named Crosshair slipped under the surface of his reconditioning.
Without hesitation, CX-2 said, “Yes sir.”
The corner of Kirgard’s mouth twitched upwards in a satisfied grin. “Grab your gear and meet me in the hangar. Dismissed.”
***
After the rest of Vulture Squad left, Kirgard scanned the hologschematic of the transport of the umpteenth time since he’d gained access to it, committing the map of the common areas to memory.
The sound of a man clearing his throat in the doorway made Kirgard turn. Grand Moff Tarkin was standing there, flanked by his guards. Kirgard stood and saluted smartly.
“Well?” the grand moff said as he stepped into the briefing room.
Kirgard let a smile fill his face. “It worked just like you said it would, sir. The clone was asking questions, but as soon as I ordered him to prepare, something changed. He sat up straighter, and his voice changed. It was…more precise. No more questions.”
“Excellent. I wasn’t sure how easily he could be commanded. He should be a valuable asset to your team. When you return, I expect a detailed report on his performance.”
“Yes sir.”
“And Captain,” Tarkin said, “keep in mind your primary objective. The target’s capture is of secondary importance.”
Kirgard flicked the holoprojector off and donned his helmet, then followed the grand moff out.
***
Transport Ship Reliable , Corellian-controlled space
Former Captain Rex of the 501st Clone Battalion of the Grand Army of the Republic was sandwiched between a Gand and a family of Corellians on their way to visit their uncle on Coruscant. One of the Corellian youngsters kept flailing about, whacking the clone with a little toy blaster.
Rex sighed and stared up at the bright blue Corellian sky. The sun beat down on the crowd of passengers waiting to board the transport, and Rex could feel sweat prickling his skin under his thick clothes and under his shaggy, grown-out blonde hair. He scratched at his long beard.
Having spent most of his life as a soldier, Rex was used to the stretches of boredom punctuated by short flurries of action. This wasn’t much different.
Didn’t mean he liked it, though.
Finally, the transport’s doors slid open and the crowd surged up the gangplank, taking Rex with it.
Inside, the transport’s life support systems pumped blessedly cold and odor-free air past Rex’s face, cooling the sweat on his brow. He made his way up a few levels to a grand reception lobby, where he scanned the crowd for two familiar faces.
Beside Rex, a droid appeared. “Rex?” it said in a low voice. “It’s me, Echo.”
Rex’s face split into a grin. He grabbed the cyborg clone in a hug and whacked his brother on the back.
“Good to see you,” Rex said. “Where’s Emerie?”
“Here,” the clone scientist said from Rex’s other side. “I’m glad you made it on the transport safely.”
“As am I,” Rex said. “How was the first leg of the trip?”
“Uneventful.” Echo shrugged. Rex couldn’t see the other’s expression behind the mask, but it was necessary as the cyborg would be easily recognizable without the mask.
A voice over the intercom interrupted their reunion. “Welcome aboard. The transport is leaving now. Please make your way to your seats to prepare for the jump to hyperspace.”
“Better do as the lady says,” Rex said. He felt the slightest lurch as the transport lifted off and angled itself towards space. He could hardly hear the hum of the sublight engines above the constant din of chatter around him.
Rex and his companions made their way through the luxury sections of the transport ship, past lounges and bars with live performers, restaurants with real glassware and food that didn’t come in a tube, and down halls with real carpet underfoot. Everywhere he looked, Rex could see out towering viewports that gave a spectacular view of the receding planet below.
Rex scratched at his long beard. It seemed to help with the disguise, but he still wasn’t used to it.
“We apologize for the delay,” the voice over the intercom said. “We have an unscheduled addition to our passenger list. As soon as the transfer is complete, we will be on our way. Again, we apologize for the delay.”
The voice repeated the message in several other languages that Rex didn’t understand.
With a sigh, he turned to his companions and rolled his eyes.
“Probably some rich Corellian corporate boss,” he muttered. “Too rich to bother with boarding times like the rest of us.”
Beside him, Echo glanced around at the opulence of the upper class passengers. He grumbled, “They certainly seem to have done well in the transition to the Empire.”
On Echo’s other side, Emerie barely glanced up before returning to her datapad. “They have profited handsomely from the retrofitting of old cruisers and the construction of new ships.”
Rex grunted. “Just so long as they board in a timely fashion so we can get moving again.”
“Why wouldn’t someone like that just take their own ship?” Echo asked.
Rex jutted his shaggy head in the direction of a ring of soft couches where several richly-clad Nemoidians chatted and drank. “Business dealings.”
“Thank you for your patience. We will now continue on our scheduled journey to Coruscant,” the intercom voice said. “Please make your way to your assigned jump seats. We will be jumping to hyperspace momentarily.”
Rex heard the hyperdrive rev up, felt the thrum through the deck in his boots. He led the other two into the economy cabin, where two aisles led down row after row of seats packed into the space.
As they took their seats, jostled by the other passengers, Echo muttered, “One of these days, I’m going to buy a first-class ticket.”
Rex snorted. “When you pay, you can pick the seats.”
The acceleration of the hyperspace jump pressed Rex back into his seat. As it eased, he tilted his seat back, crossed his ankles, and closed his eyes. Rex hated all this sneaking around, but after that mess on Coruscant last time, the Empire had painted a target on his back.
He sighed. That debacle could have been avoided if that nerf-brained Imperial hadn’t–
Rex grunted as Echo’s elbow dug into his ribs. “Can’t a man sleep–”
“No,” Echo hissed from behind the mask. His head jerked meaningfully behind them.
Rex risked a quick glance behind them. There stood four stormtroopers, two blocking the only exit from the compartment, and the other two making their way down each of the transport’s aisles, pulling down hoods and yanking off masks to compare the passengers’ faces to a holo puck.
Rex slid down and swore.
“You think they’re after us?” Echo whispered.
“Who else?”
Emerie took a glance, then sank into her chair, trembling slightly. “How’d they know we were here?”
Rex shook his head. “I don’t know. We don’t have any time to worry about that now. How are we going to get out of here?”
“Do we need to?” Echo asked. “Our documents were enough to pass customs’ inspection.”
Rex’s brow furrowed. “I’d rather not find out.”
The three of them cast about the main cabin, looking for anything at all that might help.
Emerie was the first to think of something. “I think I have an idea.”
She quickly told them. Echo winced.
“Do you have a better idea?” she asked.
“No,” he admitted. “I’d just rather go around trouble rather than walk straight into it.”
***
CX-2 waited impatiently in front of the cabin’s exit. He’d much prefer to be the one to flush the target out. A finger of his droid hand tapped the butt of his rifle, a quick staccato rhythm. At least the droid hand was working well enough at the moment.
Ever since the briefing room, CX-2 had been filled with a wonderful sense of purpose once more. No more flashbacks, troublesome memories of a life that hadn’t mattered, no more thoughts about other clones. Just simple, straightforward purpose.
It was like a drug that pumped through his veins, focusing his thoughts. He needed to fulfill this mission in the same way that he needed air or water to survive.
But standing and waiting for something to happen was going to drive him insane. He needed to move, to be an active participant in the chase, not standing around while someone else was on the prowl.
To his left, his attention was caught by a trio of passengers. One of them, a rough spacer with shaggy blonde hair and beard shot through with gray, was doubled over, supported by a droid and a woman.
“I need to take him down to Medical,” the woman was insisting. She had on a pair of goggles that she kept adjusting. Probably a nervous tick. “He’s very ill. Can’t you see?”
“Let me verify your identity and you can be on your way,” Dahl said. He held out a gloved hand expectantly.
The woman exchanged a glance at the droid, then began rummaging around in her pack.
That droid…Something was wrong with that droid, CX-2 realized. He wasn’t sure what it was, though. The mechanical mask, metal plating, and movements all suggested it was a droid. But underneath, instead of rubber or metal, it seemed to be made of cloth…like a clone’s undersuit, CX-2 realized. His heart rate jumped from excitement.
CX-2 made a hand gesture signaling for Ferrus to take up his station by the exit, then made his way over to Dahl and took up position right behind the other trooper.
The woman pulled up the documents on her datapad and handed it to Dahl. He scanned through them.
“Taking your father to Coruscant for medical treatment?” the stormtrooper asked.
“Yes. This is his medical assistant droid.”
Dahl grunted and handed the datapad back to the woman. “These seem to be in order. You may go.”
“Wait,” CX-2 said, stepping in front of the trio. He pointed at the droid. “That one’s not a droid,”
Dahl looked from CX-2 to the ‘droid’ and back. Then, raising his blaster at the ‘droid’, he said, “Take off your mask.”
The cabin went silent at the sight of the brandished weapon. The droid seemed to consider the request and looked to the woman, then raised its hands and pulled off the mask.
Murmurs of surprise rippled around the cabin. A few passengers looked suspiciously at their own droids. Underneath the mask was a pale human with cybernetic implants and data ports implanted in his skull.
But his eyes…
CX-2 knew those eyes. He saw them every morning in the mirror. He glanced at the woman. Same brown eyes, same shape.
CX-2 stepped forward and grabbed the old spacer by the hair on the nape of his neck. Ignoring the man’s cry of pain, CX-2 lifted the man up and looked at his face.
The old spacer had grown out his blonde hair and beard enough to mask his features somewhat, but he couldn’t disguise those eyes.
CX-2 turned to Dahl, still holding onto the clone. “Three clones in one place. What are the odds?”
Dahl parted the hair on the right side of the spacer’s scalp, revealing a horizontal scar, then nodded in satisfaction. He tapped his comlink. “Sir, I think we’ve located the target–”
Just then, the clone ripped himself out of CX-2’s hand and kicked the stormtrooper’s feet out from under him. CX-2 came crashing down as the cybernetic clone took out Dahl. All three clones bolted down the aisle toward the exit.
CX-2 hissed in frustration and jumped to his feet. Ahead of him, Ferrus had already started shooting, but the three rogue clones ducked down low enough that the seats around them shielded them from her blasts. One of her shots caught an old Ithorian in the chest.
“Watch your fire!” Kirgard shouted over their coms.
CX-2 darted after them. He raised his blaster and fired at the retreating clones. His shots went wide, sinking into foam headrests and a passenger’s leg.
The shaggy clone glanced over his shoulder, then up at a rack of luggage overhead. Pulling out a vibroblade, he reached up and cut at the cord restraining the luggage. But the vibroblade didn’t cut all the way through. CX-2 heard the rogue clone curse, stumbling away. CX-2 shoved a passenger aside and raised his blaster again.
The passenger whose leg he’d hit, however, happened to be a Wookie. The Wookie took two lanky strides toward CX-2 and backhanded the clone, sending him flying across the seats and passengers. Its roar made the confined space reverberate.
Ears ringing, CX-2 scrambled to his feet. He dashed after the clones, giving the Wookie a wide berth.
