Chapter Text
The first few nights, Neyo would wake up to see Bacara off to the Circle, and then return to his tube to sleep. But then, Neyo stopped, and truly slept the whole night, getting better sleep than Cody was.
It would’ve been easy to say that everything got better after that, but it didn’t. Their first day back was a strategy training day, and Neyo got low scores, the lowest of Thunder Squad. But when they went back to physical training, he was more present and alert, his movements quick, his punches hard, his methods dirty. 17 enjoyed this new change, giving Neyo a few compliments on his sudden improvement.
In terms of relationships, nothing much changed. Even though he wasn’t going to the Circle anymore, Neyo still hung out with Bacara and Vhey, getting periodic updates on the Circle’s happenings. He gave Doom and Ponds the silent treatment, which Cody supposed was better than open warfare.
Around that time came a new change. In keeping with their growing responsibilities, troopers now had to do their own laundry, as the Trainers didn’t want them to become reliant on droids. ‘You won’t have nannies in the field,’ Priest had said when it was announced. They weren’t given any specific time block to do this, as they were now old and resourceful enough to work it into their schedules.
About a week after the new rule, and two weeks after Neyo left the Circle, he and Cody ended up alone together in the laundry room at the edge of curfew.
After Neyo finished loading his body gloves into the washer, Cody looked up from the reds he was folding and asked him, “So, how’s life been now that your nights have freed up?”
“Pretty good,” Neyo said, leaning against the washer, “Though it’ll prolly take a while to stop waking up at weird times.”
“True there. You know, I hated seeing you get hurt all the time. I’m glad you’re out and your scores are rising.”
“Thanks…” he said, lowering his eyes in thought. “I’m gonna miss it, though.”
“Yeah. Miss it like I miss my last set of boots,” he said, throwing down a folded shirt with a bit of force. There’d been a sizing error in his last training armor set. His boots were two sizes too small and it’d taken a month for a new pair to become available, a month during which time he’d gotten blisters on the back of his ankle from how hard they dug into his skin.
“It actually felt good, sometimes.” He didn’t elaborate, as if he expected Cody to understand. When he looked up and saw his bewildered face, he added, “When I was angry, I poured that anger into fights. I didn’t have to hold anything back. Not my punches, not my anger.”
“Just go to after-hours training or reserve a room to practice your sets. ‘S basically the same, right?”
“You don’t get it…” he said, voice trailing to a whisper. “But maybe now that my scores are better, I have less to be angry about. Thanks, Cody. For the help.”
Cody gave a two finger salute. “Any time.”
Neyo left after that, and Cody finished folding his clothes. He returned to the barracks and spent a little time catching up with Rex and 36.
He had no visit planned with Renegade Squad, so he slept the entire night. But despite Neyo’s turnaround, Cody couldn’t help but worry that he hadn’t considered something. That there was a flaw in his strategy coming back to haunt him.
That this wasn’t over.
It started on a day like any other, when Cody arrived at training with his squad. Posted up in front of them were ten unfamiliar troopers standing at attention. Nine were blue-armored, and one was red-armored. They were all wearing their helmets, hiding their faces.
Trainer Reau announced, “These men will be helping us train today. Show them respect. They're the highest scoring Alphas, bar none.”
Almost imperceptibly, Rex whispered, “So the ones we train with… aren’t the best?”
The red-armored trooper stepped forward and took off his helmet. He had few distinguishing features, but his voice sounded incredibly close to Prime’s. “I’ve been told you’re the ones who’ll lead the army, and I’m here to assess you. We’re gonna start by testing your aim.”
As they headed towards the range, Gree whispered to Cody, “That’s A-77, Fordo. The regs say he’s got the highest scores.”
“Out of the Alpha Batch?”
“Out of everyone.”
Cody didn’t respond and turned his attention to Fordo as he began his lesson. He explained the level of precision and speed expected of a CC, or any trooper given special training. To demonstrate, Fordo grabbed his pistol and shot a volley of blasts at a large target. All hit in the innermost circle, a couple straight on the bullseye; his aim was near-perfect. He seemed to know it; as he finished, he spun his pistol before tucking it back into the holster. Rex’s eyes widened in pure awe.
They were lined up at the shooting range by squad in order to test for accuracy. Fordo watched over them, and ordered them to fire. But when Thunder Squad fired their guns, four shots rang out. Neyo’s gun clicked and chuffed, but didn’t fire. The others came out of ready position and turned to watch as Neyo struggled with his weapon, pulling the trigger repeatedly.
Priest and Fordo approached, having noticed the problem. Fordo asked, “Everything alright, trooper?”
“Yes sir. Just a technical malfunction.”
Fordo took the gun out of his hands, looking it over with a quizzical eye. With a careful hand, he took out the power cell. Its connectors were rusted and the cell itself was bulging slightly. These were the clear signs of a burnt out power cell at the end of its life. At this point in training, troopers alone were responsible for the maintenance of their weapons, including the replacement of power cells before they degraded.
Priest scowled, and in response, Fordo explained in a robotic voice, “This CC’s blaster carbine had a burnt out power cell.”
“Really?” he said, “How did this happen, N’eyayah? You use this gun every day of your life.”
“It was fine yesterday–”
He snarled, “Power cells don’t just degrade overnight! It takes months of wear for them to end up in this condition, and it’s your responsibility to replace them! I cannot believe a trooper of your caliber would be so unobservant! If this was a battlefield, you’d be dead! You have failed the bare minimum that’s required of you as a commander: Preparation!”
Neyo sat out the rest of training, placed shamefully beside the wall where everyone could see him. Fordo drilled them on accuracy, firing speed, and firing from different positions, like crouching or lying down. It was a slow day, but nonetheless, Cody tried his best, not wanting to disappoint the purported best clone alive.
After training was done, Rex hovered by Fordo and asked to learn how to spin his pistol. Fordo smiled at him and took out his gun, slowly demonstrating. Rex then practiced a few times, and when he managed to spin without dropping it, Fordo cheered for him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a natural, kid!”
By that point, most of the others had left for lunch. Cody convinced the Trainers to let him assist with cleanup. So while he worked, he eavesdropped.
Neyo, Priest, Reau, and a reluctant Fordo were off in the corner, talking in low whispers. Priest held the power cell in front of Neyo’s face, taunting him with it, and when Neyo pleaded that it’d been in pristine condition just yesterday, Priest threw it at his head and gave him a lesson in back talk. Both Reau and Fordo were smiling at the proceedings, but while Reau looked smug and approving, Fordo’s smile looked forced and uncomfortable.
Fordo was tasked with determining the punishment, and chose something very light for a trooper of Neyo’s age and rank. He would meet with Fordo and the attending trainers to determine how much remedial training he needed; the minimum was five days, and he’d miss dinner to attend said training. He would also have to fix the gun on his own, and if he came to training with it nonfunctional again, he would be re-trained. For a mistake so dangerous, this was getting off without even a slap on the wrist.
To Cody’s surprise, Priest accepted Fordo’s proposal and dismissed him, and Fordo left the room. With the negotiations over, Cody decided to head to lunch.
But as he left, Priest spoke to Neyo. “Fordo has given you mercy I wouldn’t have. You should be very grateful. I’ll let his punishment stand,” he said, “On one condition.”
Lunch was cut short by more training with some of Fordo’s squadmates, and this time, they were doing athletic drills, the kind that left you too out of breath to talk. But the news spread anyway.
By the time Cody returned to the barracks for the night, everyone knew what had happened. As he worked with his back to the rest of the barracks, an argument broke out. He couldn’t tell, or maybe just didn’t want to know, who was yelling. “A burnt out power cell?! You coulda killed someone!”
“It wasn’t burnt out yesterday, I know it! I–”
“No! No excuses! Men like you should be reconditioned, not let off lightly!”
“That’s enough!” Cody yelled, “Haven’t we all made mistakes? Haven’t we all gotten sloppy? If he’s defective, then we all are!”
He turned around to face the crowd, but found that there were too many brothers standing there to pick out whoever was the aggressor. There were too many brothers he didn’t want to be the one who’d believe his own brother was worthy of reconditioning. Rex, Gree, Doom, Ponds, Fox, Jet, Howzer, 36, and many more.
Neyo despondently looked back at Cody. “They’re right, and you know that. Don’t protect me, Cody.”
Keeli rolled his eyes. “Tomorrow’s a new day, everyone. Let’s not drag this out.”
With that, the crowd dispersed. And in a curious change, as groups split, Ponds lingered by Keeli instead of Rex.
And Cody lingered by no one. He went back to his tube and closed the door and didn’t come out.
The next day, they trained with a different set of Alphas: 17’s squadmates. A-16, A-18, and A-19 all proved to be harsher than Fordo but very patient compared to 17. A-20 did not have the temperament of a trainer at all, and was so anxious that even giving praise was difficult for him, leading to the supervising trainers repeatedly yelling at him to speak up.
The squad was… not well run. Thunder Squad’s problems were petty squabbles compared to this one’s. If 17 was paired with any of his squadmates, they’d get into arguments over literally everything. Even when they agreed, 17 would insult the others for being too effusive with their praise, and the others would insult 17 for not giving enough positive reinforcement. If 17 was paired with 20, he’d direct his usual torrent of hateful slurry at his own brother until 20 was sagging and shrinking away from him. 17 repeatedly had to be told, first by his squadmates and then by the Trainers, that he was wasting time by ignoring the cadets he was actually there to scrutinize.
By the afternoon sessions, 17 was forced to prowl alone because none of his squadmates would work with him. 20 got a bit more confident, but still rarely spoke and peppered his criticisms with ‘I think’ and ‘Maybe’ to cushion the blow, as if they were little cadets. Thunder Squad stayed out of trouble. Neyo performed well. The day went… fine.
They ended early; 17 and 18 got into an argument over whether Ponds could use a rifle while running drills, and said argument escalated into a physical fight that the trainers had to break up. 17, never one to leave without getting the last word in, pinned the blame on Ponds and ordered him re-trained.
That day, at dinner, Cody’s table got very crowded, with Rex, 36, Doom, and Gree. Neyo was with his usual crowd. Ponds’ re-training session ended early, but when he appeared, he sat next to Keeli instead of Rex.
36 said, “I have a feeling we won’t be seeing Digit Squad again anytime soon. Pity, most of them weren’t so bad.” The squad’s name wasn’t actually Digit Squad, but no one in it had names. Fitting.
“I think it was good that we saw them. They’re an object lesson on everything squads aren’t supposed to be,” Gree said, “Maybe some of us will shape up.”
“I doubt that,” Doom said.
Cody ignored that remark and turned to Rex. “Is everything alright with Ponds? He’s been avoiding you.”
“Hell if I know. ‘Haven’t talked to him much lately.”
“I say check in, but don’t be surprised if he wants space,” 36 said, “Everyone needs space from their squad every now and then.”
Cody nodded in agreement.
That night, he snuck out to see his friends.
He knocked on the door, and there was a slight delay before Tech let him in. The explanation was clear to see. Sitting on Wrecker’s bed was another reg wearing off duty reds.
Another reg? Cody stood there, confused. Wrecker eventually said, “Uh, this is 38. His squad calls him Boss.”
“Delta Lead,” Cody said, swallowing thickly. “We’ve met.”
“That’s good,” Hunter said, “We were gonna have to introduce you eventually. The Deltas got us through some rough patches in training.”
Boss waved at Cody. “‘Nice to see you again.”
Cody nodded in acknowledgment.
The entire room sat in silence for an awkward stretch, no one knowing what to say. Boss cleared his throat. Hunter crossed his arms. Wrecker looked back and forth rapidly. “So, Boss, how’s the squad?”
“62’s going by Scorch now,” he said, crossing his arms. “You four already know that. It’s the best news I have.”
“Have the burns healed yet?” Tech asked.
“Mostly, but he looks strange without eyebrows,” he smiled, “Vau’s over it, at least.”
“That’s what matters,” Crosshair said. He’d been silent up till that point, in his own bed. He’d stacked some crates around it, making him hard to see and muffling his voice a little.
Boss stood up. “I think I’d better go. Cody sees you less often, he gets precedence.”
“Sorry we’re cutting this short. Thanks for coming,” Hunter said.
Boss gave a two finger salute and started towards the door. He paused, saying it was nice to see Cody again, then left.
Once he was gone, Cody settled near the central table. “How long have you known him?” he asked.
“As long as we’ve been commandos,” Tech said simply.
“And he’s here often?”
“Maybe once every few weeks,” Hunter said, “No need to lose sleep when we see each other at training.”
“And you’re friends?”
Crosshair said darkly, rising from his bunk and sitting opposite Cody at the table, “We don’t just let any regs into our barracks. Now what’re you really asking?”
“He’s allowed to be curious,” Tech said.
Wrecker nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s kinda Cody’s whole thing.”
“He’s not just curious. Did you think we didn’t have other friends, Cody? Did you really think you were our only tether to normalcy?”
Cody moved to speak, but Tech interrupted. “Do not engage.”
“Right, Tech,” he said, “I shouldn’t’ve come without asking. I–I’ll leave you boys alone for the night.”
“That’s very kind of you, Cody,” Tech said. “I’ve always thought you and Boss would get along. If he’s here again when you are, you can stick around.”
“Maybe next time.”
He walked back to the barracks, and found that he was not the only one awake.
On one of the benches sat Neyo and Bacara, shoulder to shoulder, tending to each other’s wounds. Neyo had a bloody nose and was keeping his head tipped forward as Bacara smeared Bacta over a ring of bruises.
“Easy,” Bacara said, “He was hard on you today, but tomorrow, who knows?”
Neyo nodded sluggishly, turning to meet Cody’s gaze. He’d gone back? After what Priest had done to him, he’d gone back? Why? Didn’t he want to save himself? Didn’t he want all the fighting to stop? Hadn’t he decided he didn’t need help?
He’d led Cody on. He’d gone back. Maybe he hadn’t even stopped. Sure, Priest had scared him, but Priest scared everyone.
Coward.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” Bacara growled, placing an arm in front of Neyo.
Cody raised his hands in surrender and went back to his tube. The two watched until he’d closed the door behind him.
Cody stayed silent for the first few days, hoping it was just a one-time thing. But Neyo kept going back. Cody would hear him leaving and returning, sometimes he’d talk with Bacara or Vhey. He’d rejoined the Battle Circle.
One day at lunch, Cody managed to snag a seat next to Neyo before Bacara and Vhey could. Gree and Fox filled in the other seats instead. Vhey glared but said nothing.
Cody leaned close to Neyo and whispered, “Why did you go back?”
“You know why. This is better than whatever Priest had in store for me.”
“But what about your scores! What about your nights! You’ve finished your punishment, you can stop!"
“He’ll just do something to make me come back. Again, and again, and I’ll never know peace,” he said, “Let me do this, Cody. You don’t have to protect me. From him, or from anyone.”
Cody nodded, but then added, “Our deal was that I’d get help if you were hurt badly. If you’re going back to the Battle Circle, I’m holding you to those terms.”
Neyo turned away from him. “Fair.”
And so, things went back to the same holding pattern as before the commando training. Neyo went to the Battle Circle and came back injured and tired, but never so injured that he couldn’t fight during the day. Cody watched him from afar, and Neyo knew that he was watching from afar, and they tried their best to not let this spill over into squad affairs.
Kamino continued to rotate the Alphas who were training them. Some days, they had Rancor Squad, some days they had 17’s squadmates –though 17 was never present when they were– some days they had Fordo and his two associated squads.
It was on one of those days, with Fordo around, when Neyo came to training looking… sick. His movements were stiff, his breathing was shallow, and he grimaced every time he had to bend forward. It got worse throughout the day, and during rest breaks, he could be seen leaning on the wall for support, sweat dripping down his face, clutching at his side with a half-hidden look of pain.
One of the troopers overseeing them that day was Seltzer, a medic in training. He noticed Neyo’s distress and dismissed him for the rest of the session, saying training would only aggravate his injuries… Whatever they were. Neyo refused to submit to an examination and Seltzer refused to cause a scene by forcing him to.
There was something wrong, an injury he was hiding. Everyone knew it. And since it hadn’t happened at training –they all trained together, they would’ve seen– there was only one sure cause.
After training, Cody caught Neyo in the hallway. “You’re hurt, what happened?”
“None of your business,” Neyo said, pushing him away. He simultaneously brought a hand up to his chest.
“Come on, let’s find Gilamar. He can help you.”
“Leave me alone,” he said, “The Battle Circle’s too important. I can’t ruin it for everyone else just ‘cause I’m too weak. Who knows what Priest and Reau will do to us if we come forward–”
“We made a deal!”
“Well, the deal’s off!” he growled.
“You coward!” Cody snapped back.
Neyo straightened up to loom over Cody, wincing when the movement aggravated his injury. “Who’s the real coward! If you’re so damn invested in ending the Circle, why haven’t you gone to Gilamar yourself!”
He had no answer to that, at least none that would assuage Neyo. If he went to Gilamar alone, without proof, no one would believe him. And if Gilamar dismantled the Circle on his command, then he alone would draw Priest and Reau’s ire. And maybe it was cowardly of him to be too afraid to just get it over with.
Using his silence against him, Neyo said, “For the last time, Cody, I don’t want your protection anymore! Go away.”
Against his better judgment, Cody obeyed.
But he couldn’t stay away.
Neyo had made a deal with Cody, once upon a dark night in the barracks. He’d expose the Battle Circle if his injuries were ever worse than surface level. But he hadn’t. He’d hid. Like a coward. He’d broken that promise, that pact. He’d even called the one person helping him a coward for still caring!
Well, fine. If Neyo was too much of a coward to save himself, Cody would just have to intervene.
Cody waited until the middle of the night, until he heard movement in the barracks below him. He emerged from his tube to scout around.
Neyo sat in the hallway, against the wall, staring blankly forward as he cleaned his gun. When it came time to check the power-cell, he took it out, looked it over, and put it back in, over, and over, and over. This went on for five minutes, Neyo working off pure memory, eyes unfocused.
Cody walked into view, fists balled. “Neyo.”
He went stiff and turned to face Cody, pivoting slowly to not aggravate his side. “Now, listen–”
“We agreed,” he said harshly, “That I’d stay quiet only if you stayed unhurt. And now, look at you. We’re going to Gilamar. We’re telling him everything. I don’t care what Priest and Reau will do, and I don’t care what you want. This has gone on long enough.”
“Cody, listen, you have to understand, I’m getting better! I–It’s paying off! I can’t let you do this to me, I’m gonna fail without Priest and if I fail, we fail!”
“You– Are– Injured!” he yelled, “I’m done standing idly by! There’s nothing you’re getting from him that you couldn’t get from one of us.”
“Now there’s where you’re wrong! Bacara is the only one of you who cares about me, actually cares, not just acts like he does ‘cause we’re evaluated as a squad! Do you think Doom would help me? And why should I follow orders from someone who never takes my side! At least Priest cares about me, about me!”
“I stuck out for you! I tried my damndest, and this is the thanks I get?! You know why the squad hates you? Because you’re an asshole! You don’t care about us, you only care about Bacara and yourself! Maybe our brothers were right– Maybe you should be reconditioned!”
“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry!” he said, shrinking from Cody and beginning to cry, voice wet and tears rolling down his face. “Please, just go on without me. Go tell Gilamar. Leave me alone.”
Cody steeled himself, stepping forward. If he had no proof of the Battle Circle, no one would listen. To hell with being a good brother. To hell with squad unity! Someone had to be brave enough to not stand for this any longer, and if Neyo wouldn’t go willingly… He glanced down. Neyo’s gun was set to stun. He reached for it.
Neyo took an aborted step back, flinching when his shoulders met the wall.
Cody would not remember the rest of that night.
But from what Neyo would tell him years later, he lunged forward, slowed by his injury. Cody went after him, grasping at air and loose clothes. Neyo shook him off and Cody lost sight of him for just a moment too long.
A blur smacked into Cody’s head. He hit the floor and warm liquid trickled down his face. He tried to get back up, but the pain in his head was too great, and a wave of nausea sent him back down to the floor.
Neyo stood above him, victorious, horrified. He dropped his now-bloodstained blaster to the ground.
Neyo kneeled beside him, trying to lift him into a sitting position without jostling him too hard. When Neyo touched his head, his fingers came away bloody. “Cody…” he choked out.
“N– Neyo… Sorry.”
Neyo said something to him after that.
He didn’t hear it.
Cody awoke in the med bay, Gilamar watching him with bated breath. He’d been in surgery, Gilamar explained, and they had to check that his mental faculties were intact. Cody answered his questions, but they ignored the one question he deigned to ask: Where’s Neyo?
“That’s not important right now,” Gilamar said, “It’s gonna be alright.”
Why did that matter? He had to talk to Neyo. He had to make sure Gilamar knew what was going on. But Gilamar repeated over and over, Neyo’s not important right now. Don’t worry about Neyo, he’s fine. Neyo wasn’t fine! How could Gilamar say something so dismissive?
Instead of telling Cody what he needed to know, the doctors told him about his injuries. Multiple fractures, they said with bone fragments dangerously close to his eye. They’d gone in and surgically reconstructed the area, but Cody’s left eye would be weak for about a month and there’d be considerable scarring.
Outside Cody’s room, Gilamar argued with someone. Apparently, the surgical site needed special care; it needed to be kept covered and washed carefully, and once it healed, moisturized. But it interfered with his training, so Cody wouldn’t be able to. The wound could get infected, Gilamar protested, and the skin dry. But whoever Gilamar was arguing with shut him down by saying that any clone would love to have a battle scar, and therefore, it didn’t matter that they weren’t going to follow his recommendations. It also didn’t matter what Cody himself thought, apparently.
After a while, Gilamar began pleading with someone else. If Cody peered out the door, he could see Gilamar’s back and a trooper standing behind him, boxed against the wall of the hallway. It was hard to see his face or anything with any detail, but the numbers on his armor read 8826. Neyo!
Neyo looked horrible. He was stiff and silent and his limbs were shaking. His hair was messed up and he kept stealing guilty glances towards the door.
Gilamar ignored his sorry state. “–Please! You dragged Kote all the way here in the middle of the night. Surely you want to find out who did this to your brother. Come on, verd’ika, tell me. For Kote’s sake.”
At that, Neyo hid his face in his hands and backed a few steps away, muffling his sobs.
“Hey, N’eyayah, it’s alright. I know you’re scared, but I’m not gonna let up until I know what you know. Don’t make this difficult.”
“Promise you won’t hurt them?”
“They assaulted your brother, don’t you want revenge?” he said, “Tell me who did it first, then we’ll talk about punishments!”
“It was me.”
Gilamar’s face fell, and his mouth twitched. He backed away from Neyo, sizing him up. He stole a glance back at Cody’s injury. “You did this. You… Why?”
Neyo didn’t answer, shifting himself farther away from Gilamar, aggravating his side. He winced, almost imperceptibly, and brought a hand up to cover it.
“You have to tell me what happened. I’m not gonna punish you for telling the truth. Everyone has fights with their brothers sometimes,” he eyed him carefully. “Why’re you clutching your side? Where’d you get hit?”
“Sir, please–”
“Hey you’re alright. I just need to see your wound.”
“Lay off, Mij. You’re scaring him,” Dred Priest said as he walked by. “N’eyayah doesn’t have to tell you anything he doesn’t want to.” He took Neyo by the shoulders and guided him away. “Let’s get you back to the barracks.”
“But–” Neyo began. Priest glared and he shut up.
They took Neyo away, leaving Cody in the med bay for a bit longer. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for something to happen, for there to be a shift in the monotony.
At one point, he heard Gilamar and Prime outside the door, talking to each other in hushed voices. Of course, it was mostly Gilamar. Prime was not the talkative type.
“ –still have no idea why this happened.”
Prime said, “All that loyalty, clones shouldn’t be capable of this.”
“You’d be surprised,” Gilamar said bitterly.
Cody was released from the med bay, and he walked back to the barracks with strict instructions on how to treat his wounds to get the least amount of scarring possible. Because there was no way he’d be allowed to sit out training and keep his wound covered with a bandage and change said bandage every few hours after gently soaking it with a washcloth. He’d have to get used to that, he couldn’t be coddled now because he wouldn’t be coddled on the battlefield.
He returned to the CC barracks alone with bandages wrapped around his face, partially covering his eye. And much to his chagrin, everyone was waiting for him and there was no way to hide.
“Cody!” Gree shouted upon seeing him.
Appo yelled to everyone farther from the door. “He’s back, everyone!”
Rex made it over first. He moved to hug Cody, but noticed the bandage over his face and stopped with a gasp. “What happened?”
Before Cody could speak, 36 met Cody’s eyes. He was perched high on one of the ladders towards the far end of the room. Scowling, he asked, “Is it true? Did Neyo do this?”
The room was silent as they waited for his answer. Cody closed his eyes and sighed. He nodded yes, and an uproar shot through the barracks.
“You heard him! Neyo’s lost his mind!” 36 announced, turning so the brothers at the back of the room could hear him.
Bly yelled, “First he tried to blow us all up, and now this?! He couldn’t even behave for the one brother who stood up for him!”
“When that bastard comes back–!” Ponds said, pounding his fists together.
“No!” Cody yelled, “If any of you try anything–”
Doom said, “Cody, what’ll it take for you to stop defending him, if not this! I don’t–” he paused as his voice pitched upwards, correcting himself by clearing his throat, “I don’t want you to end up dead.”
“It won’t come to that. It won’t. We’re brothers.”
He was trying to convince himself more than the others.
Cody settled into an old routine, people-watching from his tube despite one of his eyes being out of commission. A return to normalcy, or at least some form of it. But the barracks weren’t the same. There were no open conversations, just huddles and dark glares.
The next day, Neyo failed to get out of his tube for morning training despite Gree and Bacara’s insistent knocking. The squad waited so long for him that they were nearly late to training themselves, without him. And because they were running sims, they passed all the tests by the skin of their teeth, barely scraping by. Neyo didn’t re-appear that afternoon, or at mealtimes. He was just gone.
That night, Gilamar called the four of them out for a private meeting in the hallways. He told them that Neyo had a broken rib and would be on bedrest until it healed. The squad would have to operate with only four men until he healed, but they would not be penalized for Neyo’s absence in and of itself. Additionally, because Neyo had refused to say how he was injured, he was assumed to be at fault and would be re-trained as punishment, lengthening his time spent away from the squad.
Gilamar asked if they had any questions, but they had none. He left, and then Bacara returned to the barracks.
Doom scoffed. “I can’t believe I have to call those two my brothers.” He then turned and headed back into the barracks himself, going straight to his tube rather than following Bacara.
Cody looked at Gree, the last one still with him. “What do you make of all this?”
“Did you do it, Cody?” Gree asked, “Did you break his ribs?”
“What? No! Why would I do that!”
“Oh,” he said, disappointed. “I just thought… If I were you, I wouldn’t let my scar go… unavenged. But comeuppance is sweet, even if you weren’t the one to do it.”
Cody stayed still as Gree went back into the barracks. He growled in anger at the thought of wanting Neyo to get hurt, of revelling in his misery. Even right before this had all gone wrong, Cody hadn’t actually wanted to hurt him. He couldn’t imagine feeling so vindictive.
And then, Cody said something so wrong, so perverted, so defective, he knew even his defective friends, even 99 would hate him.
“Are these people really my brothers?”
He slid down against the wall and curled into a tight ball, taking solace in being alone, in the knowledge that no one else would know. Ever.
Cody fled to Hunter that night.
When Hunter opened the door, his eyes immediately drifted to Cody’s bandaged face, and he ushered Cody inside, worriedly asking what’d happened. The story didn’t put Hunter at ease, especially not after hearing that Neyo was at fault, after all Cody had done for him.
Crosshair, who’d been listening from his bed, hissed, “‘Shows how much brotherhood means to a reg.”
“Ey, quit it,” Wrecker said, “What’s with you, lately?”
Hunter turned his attention back to Cody and took his hand, squeezing tight. “I can still smell dried blood.”
“That’s to be expected, Hunter,” Tech said, “However, Cody, it’s concerning that you’re not being given supplies and opportunities to clean the wound. An infection would be… unpleasant.”
“We have some spare bandages lying around. There’s a bathroom nearby. I’ll help you clean it.”
Cody and Hunter went alone, and Cody pointedly did not ask why they had extra bandages in their room, nor why they had spare Bacta as well.
Hunter placed Cody in front of a mirror and unwrapped the bandages, throwing them away. He cleaned the site with a paper towel, which came away with the smallest amount of blood.
This was the first time Cody had gotten a close look at his new scar. It was big, with a circular portion at the top, just above his eyebrow, which curved down across his brow and ended above his cheekbone. The stitches made the scar stand out, black against brown skin, and the entire site was reddened and a little swollen.
As Hunter re-dressed it, he said, “You’re gonna look mighty fierce, Cody.”
He supposed that was a compliment, but couldn’t help but feel ashamed of himself.
They walked back towards Hunter’s quarters, initially in silence. But as they approached, Hunter stopped and asked urgently, “Cody, do you ever feel like you’re not cut out for command?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know those cadets that say you’re not like them, that you’re defective and a coward and you won’t make it through training… What happens when you start hearing them inside your head, in your own voice?”
Cody lied, “That’s never happened to me. And you can’t listen. Pretend it’s not there.”
“You say that like it’s easy.”
“It’s not, but you’re gonna be a leader one day. You can’t let the doubt get to you,” he said, “In fact, don’t let it have any sway over you or your men. Don’t tell anyone. The men won’t follow sergeants who doubt themselves.”
Hunter looked back at Crosshair, Wrecker, and Tech. “But… They’re my brothers.”
“They’re also your subordinates, Sergeant. And if you can’t be a good leader, you’re not a good brother.”
Hunter looked at Cody, then back at his brothers, then at him again. Horrified, he ducked inside his quarters and the door shut behind him. Cody knocked on the door, trying to get him to let him in, but after a full minute, the door hadn’t opened, so he went home.
He tried again a few nights later.
Hunter met him when the door opened. The lights were off behind him. Cody couldn’t see what was going on inside their quarters, or who was even there. Hunter himself looked tired and frazzled, with dark lines under his eyes and a strange pallor to his skin.
“Is everything alright?” Cody asked. He attempted to look around Hunter to see the inside of the room, but he moved to block his line of sight.
Hunter swallowed, looking sick. He said shakily, without meeting Cody’s eyes, “I’d like you to leave us alone for a while. Don’t visit, don’t even talk to us in the halls.”
The only thing Cody could ask was, “Why?”
“Look, there’s just a lot going on right now, and we need time and space. This won’t be forever, just a few weeks. It’s just… training, and health stuff. Trust me, we need this.”
“I’ve told you loads about my training and health! Why– Do you not trust me? Hunter, we’re friends, aren’t we? I can help you, I can–”
“You wouldn’t get it!” Hunter snapped.
Cody took a step back. In all their time together, he’d never seen Hunter get angry. So he bit down his own feelings of hurt and betrayal. “Alright. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”
He returned to the barracks and tried his best to go back to his normal life like nothing had happened.
But he couldn’t stay away.
He couldn’t. Everything was different. The CC barracks were cold and hostile, now. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye anymore and Doom, Neyo, and Bacara had stopped interacting with him outside of training. Without Hunter’s squad, he was trapped there. Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair… They were the only friends he’d met and made on his own, without the Trainers putting someone there and telling him to play nice. They were the only friends he had that weren’t affected by things that happened in the training rooms. He needed space from the others more than ever, and they were the only place he could go.
He’d come unannounced before. They knew he was going through hard times. They’d understand.
He first went to their room, but when he knocked, no one answered. Perhaps they were out somewhere else? He resolved to look around. Even if he didn’t find them, he’d at least get a break.
He heard yelling and footsteps, and recognized Crosshair’s voice. He ran towards him and found Crosshair and Wrecker and a junction of three hallways, Wrecker pulling a cadet off of Crosshair. He tossed the cadet back, but another pounced on Crosshair, trying to hold him to the ground. Crosshair grabbed his wrist and twisted it, distracting the cadet long enough for Wrecker to pry the two apart.
The cadet took off running. Crosshair got shakily to his feet. “ –What? Afraid of a defect? Shows what you know, damn regs!” he screeched as they ran, flipping the bird, “Try that shit again and I’ll kill you! I’ll blast you all to smithers and you won’t even know! So come on! Come back here and–!”
Crosshair’s voice cut out suddenly, and he doubled over, coughing violently. Wrecker was at his side, worriedly whispering about how he had to stop yelling, his throat couldn’t take the strain. Cody tried to reach out and help, but when he approached Crosshair’s side, he was violently batted away with an angry hiss.
Wrecker moved away, allowing Crosshair to calm down on his own, and his eyes fell onto Cody. “Oh, didn’t see you there! Hi Cody! Glad you healed up.”
Wrecker turned towards Cody, who gasped in horror, bringing a hand to cover his mouth. “Wrecker, your face…”
The entire left side of Wrecker’s face was covered in bandages, and still-healing burns wound their way over his nose and towards his mouth. He was now completely bald, the injury having prompted the Kaminoans to shave him. And yet he was acting completely normal, if a bit unsteady.
“Oh, that?” Wrecker said offhandedly, “Well, bomb training and I, uh, wrong wire. We’re gonna have matching scars, ain’t that something! Let’s not talk about that, Cody! Let’s go somewhere!”
Wrecker initially started down the halls, but Crosshair very quickly took the lead, going to a part of Tipoca that Cody didn’t recognize. They passed through one of the hallway bridges. Beneath them, visible through the glass panels, were clones of all ages in tubes of blue liquid, masks over their faces. Crosshair searched the horizon, zeroing in on a trooper in the distance. He put a hand to the wall as if to reach out towards him.
Cody mused, “I bet you Tech could tell you the name of everyone in here.” Crosshair glared at him, and Wrecker looked taken aback. Cody swiftly apologized and changed the subject. “I wonder what they’re doing down there.”
Crosshair murmured something indistinct. Cody had to prompt him to say it again, louder. “This is a re-training center.”
“We’re special, you know,” Wrecker said, “Most troopers never get to see this place from the outside. And I bet a good trooper like you hasn’t even seen it at all.”
Cody looked back at him, realizing he’d just admitted to having been re-trained.
Crosshair hissed and pulled away from the glass, heading towards the exit. Wrecker followed, despite a moment of worried hesitation, so Cody followed them as well.
They talked in hushed whispers in front of him. Crosshair kept stealing glances back at Cody, his eyes flashing yellow as light reflected off of them. They were talking, acting like he wasn’t even there, like he was some stranger chasing after them.
And he wouldn’t stand for it. He wouldn’t be treated like this by his friends. “Hey!” Cody said with force, “Where’s Hunter?”
“Recovering from surgery,” Wrecker said.
“Why’s he need it?”
“Why do you need to know?” Crosshair growled.
Wrecker raised his hands in a conciliatory manner. “Now, guys, let’s all–”
Cody shouted, “We’ve known each other for years, Crosshair! Every time we see each other, we’re breaking the rules! So why don’t you trust me already! What don’t you want me to know!”
“Is that what we are? Your research project?”
“You– Fuck you! You know what I’m risking each time I do this!”
“Oh really? What exactly would happen if someone found out? You’re not hiding from punishment. You’re afraid we’d embarrass you in front of your real brothers,” he sneered, “You don’t actually care about us, we’re just the spares from when you’ve had enough of your squad!”
He said, “Did you think I’d never get curious? About Boss, about what you go through? Did you think I’d be content to sit in the dark? You never gave me a chance to be a good brother and now it’s my fault?! Tell me why you can’t trust me!”
Wrecker took a step between them. “Cody, it’s not that we don’t trust you. It’s that–”
“ –All I want is honesty, CT, why is this so hard for you? What are you afraid of!”
Crosshair, whose breaths had grown more ragged with each passing second, whirled around and pushed Cody to the ground. He reached back to throw a punch, but Cody swung first, forcing him off and back. With Crosshair disoriented, Cody got a few more good punches in. Then, Wrecker intervened, grabbing Cody by the collar of his shirt and lifting him off the ground, ending the fight.
Crosshair unsteadily rose to his feet, a forced smile on his face. “I should’ve known better than to trust a reg,” he spat. “You were always going to turn on us, over some fault we didn’t know to fix! You’re just like the rest of them, Cody. Maybe we are unsalvageable if we didn’t see this coming.”
“Crosshair–” Cody said. He was cut off by Wrecker tightening his grip, and let out a yelp of pain.
“This is why we didn’t want to see you. You don’t get it. Clones like you never will,” he said. The bite was gone from his voice, and his shoulders slumped in defeat, expression crumbling. “There’s your answer.”
Cody nodded in understanding, but Crosshair’s back was to him, so he didn’t see.
Wrecker set Cody down. “If you wanna see Hunter, he’s in med bay room 30.”
“What do you mean, if?”
He wearily glared down at him. “You won't like what you’re gonna find.”
Cody was left so shocked by this that the other two disappeared into the shadows, and he made no moves to stop them.
But he’d prove them wrong. He had to, he had to prove he wasn’t like the other regs, that he was good enough for them. And so, Cody turned and entered the Experimental Wing, and turned again to enter the medical rooms. He snuck down the bright, labyrinthine hallways and turned his face up at the thick scent of chemicals that made his eyes water and his throat constrict.
A few Kaminoan workers made their rounds in the distance. At one point, Cody was hiding behind a corner, hiding from a worker who’d stopped to read something on a data pad. A piercing scream rang out from a distant room, causing the worker to perk and run over. It was the fastest he’d ever seen a Kaminoan move. With them gone, Cody ran, counting the doors until he found Room 30.
Room 30, it seemed, was one of the bad rooms. It was in a block that housed problem patients. It had only a single bed per room, and no amenities of any kind. Cody knew this because in this neck of the medical wing, all the walls were one way mirrors, so patients could be monitored from a distance without ever knowing who was watching them and why. Cody moved as close as he could to the med bay wall, so he could watch as the doctors had no doubt watched him.
Hunter was lying on his stomach, hard restraints tethering him to a hospital berth. Several IVs –red for blood, yellow for platelets and plasma, and clear… saline or drugs– were attached to his wrist. Monitors blinked and beeped. Heart rate, breath rate, blood pressure, brain activity. Hunter dug his head into the mattress in a vain attempt to escape the noise, his eyes squeezed shut and his face screwed up into a wince. His mouth was slightly ajar and there was something black tied around his head.
If Cody hadn’t been able to see Hunter’s face, he probably would’ve thought Wrecker was bluffing, because the doctors had shaved his hair. Without it, Cody could see an X-shaped scar on the back of his head and fresh sutures on discolored skin.
Cody placed a hand on the wall in sympathy. Then, the strange and un-Hunter-like trooper twitched, and tried to move, but his restraints pulled him back into place. He winced and hissed through his teeth, going still. He cracked an eye open, and an unfocused, bloodshot gaze fell onto Cody.
“Where am I?” Hunter said weakly. His words weren’t coming out right. He was gagged.
Hunter asked again, struggling against his restraints. He tried to speak around the gag, begging to be freed and left alone, begging for the pain to stop. He grew more distressed, now clearly believing Cody was a doctor coming to torment him.
Cody’s stomach churned and his heart fluttered. He backed away, unable to continue talking to and looking at Hunter. If he alerted the Kaminoans to his presence, they’d both be punished. And Wrecker was right. “I’m sorry.”
As he walked away, Cody squeezed his eyes shut and hummed a long tone to drown out the sound of Hunter’s panic, pain, and desperation. And before he knew it, he’d walked so far away that Hunter was no longer in view.
He then went back to his home barracks and ascended the ladder into his tube, ignoring Rex, who half-asleep still had enough cognizance to ask where he’d been. He also ignored Neyo and Bacara, who were curled up against the wall, leaning on each other.
He wished he knew how to be the brother everyone needed. Then maybe none of this would have happened.
Wrecker and Crosshair didn’t come by the barracks for several weeks. When they began returning again, Cody heard three sets of footsteps, then eventually four.
But every time they came, Cody pretended he was asleep. After all that had been said, he couldn’t face them again. He now understood where the squad’s anger came from. He was only a reg. He didn’t want to understand. Maybe to make it easier, he convinced himself they were angry at him. He convinced himself that the next time he met with the squad, they’d berate him and beat him up. Like they’d intended to after he’d followed them, all those years ago.
One night, Hunter entered the barracks and found Cody’s tube. Without opening it, he asked in a whisper, “Cody, are you awake?”
He was awake, but he remained silent anyway. He’d seen Hunter tied down and gagged, and he was too scared to look him in the eye ever again.
There was a brief pause, and then Hunter turned to someone and said that he could hear breathing inside the tube. Another silence… and then Hunter asked, “Can we talk? I’m not angry, I just… We need to talk.”
Cody bit back tears.
After that, the voices ceased.