Hevy can't stop shaking. His hands tremble on the control panel in front of him. He's not the only one having trouble, either—Droidbait's breathing is irregular and shallow. Cutup is fidgeting nervously, and Fives' fists are clenched. Echo is pacing in front of them. He isn't technically on duty, but he's refused to leave the control room for the past four hours.
Not that any of them are protesting.
Today is the day. The invasion will happen in a matter of minutes.
Hevy can't help it. He's terrified. He knows that they could fail—there's a whole battalion of droids headed for them. Hevy also knows that if they do fail, he'd do the exact same thing he did last time. He would willingly sacrifice himself for the rest of his brothers on Kamino a second time.
He just... hopes that he doesn't have to. Domino is family. He doesn't want to leave them behind again.
His hand hovers over the kill switch of the all-clear signal tentatively. He knows he can't pull it yet—Sergeant O'Niner is remarkably tolerant of most things Domino, but pulling the kill switch without (visible, believable) reason would garner every punishment in the book regardless of O'Niner's attitude.
"You boys doing okay over there?" the Sergeant asks from across the room, as if hearing Hevy's thoughts. "You're being awfully quiet today. What's going on?"
Hevy wants to answer him—he really does, but his throat isn't working right.
You died today, in another life, he wants to say, but then the Sergeant will think he's insane and put him on the next ship back to Kamino.
Fortunately, Echo covers for them.
"Nothing's wrong, sir," Echo says. "We're just tired. We had a tough workout yesterday evening, that's all."
O'Niner fixes Echo with a disbelieving stare. "Oh, really? Then why are you here, Echo? You're off duty. Wouldn't you rather be resting than pacing around this room?"
Fives' nose wrinkles in annoyance out of O'Niner's view. The Sergeant has them, there.
"Admit it, boys, something's wrong," their commanding officer continues. "You going to tell me what it is? I could just order it out of you."
Fives snorts, admittedly a little too loud, because O'Niner whips around to glare at the ARC. O'Niner is tolerant, yes, but he does not like being mocked.
"Think that's funny, Fives? You want to be scrubbing the floor tonight?"
"No sir, sorry, sir," Fives says in a weak attempt to rectify the situation. O'Niner glares at him for a moment longer before sighing and turning back to his own screen.
"Very well, I'll leave it be," the Sergeant says. "But if I feel whatever it is you're hiding is affecting your work efficiency, I will hear about it. Understand?"
"Sir, yes, sir," Hevy replies in unison with his brothers.
As if they would tell him. Hevy wonders what story they'll come up with to explain themselves if he ever does ask. That should be the next thing they decide on, and Fives should not be in charge of it, because even though they love him, all of Domino, himself included, knows that Fives is crap at lying.
The alarm sounds. Hevy freezes.
The meteors.
For a few terrifying seconds none of them move, because they all know what this means.
It's happening.
Fives clears his throat.
"Sir, incoming meteor shower," he says, and it sounds casually spoken to an inexperienced ear, but Hevy can hear the uncertainty and worry in their brother's voice. O'Niner nods curtly.
"Raise the shield," he orders. Fives obeys. Hevy has to fight to keep his breathing steady. Droidbait is visibly trembling, and Cutup looks sick. Echo's brow is deeply furrowed.
"You wanted excitement, Hevy."
"Right. Oooohh, meteor shower."
His own words a lifetime ago, laced with sarcasm, echo bitterly in his mind. Oh, how he regrets not taking this seriously the first time around.
It's time for their plan to be put into action. Fives and Echo's faces have gone blank as they put their helmets on, battle-readiness sinking in, and Hevy tries his best to imitate them. He's only partially successful.
The base shakes as the meteors impact with the hurriedly erected ray shield, and suddenly Hevy's shaking again, because now they're on a timer.
There's a lot they know about this day, but there's also plenty they don't know. Trooper Nub is out on deck alone right now, and Domino doesn't know how long they have until the commando droids begin their attack.
It's time to see if all their training has done them any good.
Fives stands up from his seat. O'Niner's back is turned, so he doesn't see the lightning quick ARC signs Fives sends to his squad.
Droidbait, Cutup, to the armory, his hands direct. Hevy, Echo, with me.
Hevy swallows and stands.
They move. Hevy's Z-6 is propped just outside the door, right next to Echo and Five's DC-15s. O'Niner finally realizes they're abandoning their posts, and his surprised shout follows them through the hallway. None of them look back to their commanding officer. They don't have time to explain.
Hevy follows Echo and Fives, scooping up their weapons and darting for the blast doors. Echo's fist slams into the control panel nearly hard enough to crush it in his haste—fortunately the doors still open, and a surprised Nub jolts around at the sound of the door, tilting his head in confusion. Hevy can imagine they make quite a sight, bursting out of the compound fully armed and ready for a fight.
"Uh, guys? What's going on?" Nub asks. Fives doesn't answer, too busy scanning the horizon for the droids, so Echo strides up to the young clone and places a hand on his shoulder.
"Listen, Nub, we need you to go back inside," Echo says gently. "We're taking over your watch shift for a little bit. Go talk to Cutup, Droidbait, and O'Niner inside. They'll explain everything, understand?"
"Uhhh—"
"Echo," Fives interrupts sharply. "I have a visual. Two pods. They've started depositing droids already."
Echo snarls out a curse under his breath, and gives Nub a little shove toward the base before moving into place at Fives' side. Nub shakes his head and looks at Hevy beseechingly, as if expecting Hevy to explain. Hevy shrugs at him.
"Go inside and confirm to the Sergeant that we're under attack," Hevy suggests. "He's probably giving Droidbait and Cutup enough trouble as it is." To his credit, Nub takes the news of an attack very well. He takes a deep, steadying breath before nodding slowly and trying to move past Hevy, but before he can leave Hevy stops him one more time. "Listen, Nub. Don't come back outside once you go in. And don't let O'Niner come out, either."
"What?" Nub blurts out. "Why not? We can help! We were trained for this, too, you know!"
"I know," Hevy says. "Believe me, I know. But these aren't normal droids. We've been training for specifically this for a long time, and you haven't. If you come outside, you'll get killed, and we're not losing any brothers today."
Nub shakes his head again. "Hevy, you can't possibly expect us to sit back and do nothing! The droids are—!"
Hevy copies Echo, gently pushing Nub toward the door."You won't be doing nothing. You're going to kill the all-clear signal and try to contact the nearest Republic reinforcements. Got it? Now get out of here."
Nub finally obeys, casting one final confused look back at the squadmates as he leaves. The blast doors slide shut behind him. Hevy sighs in relief.
"They're moving fast," Fives says grimly, peering through his binoculars as Hevy takes his place beside the two ARCs. "And they're deploying far more droids than I remember. Where are Droidbait and Cutup? They should have been here by now."
"The Sergeant's probably being troublesome," Hevy grumbles. "I wouldn't be surprised if he makes his way out here. He's probably worried about mutiny, or something."
'We need those high-power rifles," Echo says worriedly. "If we can't get ahold of them soon, the droids are going to get close enough to shoot back."
The blast doors open behind them, and Echo turns to see Droidbait and Cutup stepping out onto the platform as if summoned by their words. The high-powered sniper rifles in their hands are a welcome sight. Hevy doesn't want to know how many people Fives had bribed to get his hands on one, much less two. The sniper rifles are specialty weapons, and expensive to produce, making them one of the rarest weapons in the GAR.
"Here," Echo says impatiently, reaching out his hands. Droidbait hands the sniper rifle over easily, and Echo shoulders it with an easy familiarity, dropping down to his stomach at the edge of the platform. Cutup heads to the other side with the second rifle. The two of them are the most proficient at using the sniper rifles. Cutup's accuracy through the scope had been massively impressive—better than Fives', even, who tended to get too impatient to aim correctly with the precise weapon.
"Pick a mark, Cutup," Echo orders quietly through their helmet comms. Hevy glances over at Cutup and frowns at the way his brother's arms tremble as he holds the weapon. It's barely enough to be visible, but more than enough to throw off a shot—especially at this range. He strides over to stand at Cutup's side, finger resting lightly on the trigger of his Z-6.
"I've got your back, Cutup," he says softly. "I'm watching for you, brother. Don't worry."
The tension running through Cutup's body eases as Hevy speaks, and he lets out an audible sigh. Worry and fear are replaced by unshakable trust in an instant. No eels can get to him with Hevy's large artillery guarding his six.
"Fire," Echo commands, and Cutup's first shot beheads the lead commando droid.
Hevy lets out a whistle of appreciation.
Droidbait is hovering in the middle of the platform, binocular shifting between the two sides and letting out little sounds of approval with each hit Echo and Cutup score. The Commando droids are visibly startled by the attack—they hadn't been expecting anything like this, and their escape pods are far away from the caves and craters pocketing the planet. They try to run, but Cutup and Echo have been training for this moment for weeks. The droids don't get too far. Some try to fire back, but the red plasma bolts of the small E-5 blasters don't have enough range to reach them.
"That's it," Fives says tensely from his spot next to Echo. "That's it, boys, keep them on their toes. We've got them. We've..." He trails off into silence. Hevy spares a glance at him—his body is stretched taut, as if expecting something to go horrifically wrong at any moment.
They all feel like that. Hevy doesn't dare to feel relief. Not yet.
"Six left," Cutup mutters. "Five. Four." He misses a shot and hisses out a quiet curse. "Three. Two." The last commando droid is scuttling towards cover, but Cutup hits it in it's hip joint, and it goes down hard. With one final shot, the droid goes dark.
Cutup takes a deep, deep, breath, and doesn't move.
Echo finishes with his side a moment later, and then they're all silent, hardly daring to breathe. Waiting for more. Waiting for something else to happen. The wind kicks up as they stand frozen to the spot, watching the motionless escape pods.
Nothing moves.
Hevy swallows, and dares to think.
Was that... was that it? Did we actually...
Echo moves as if to get back to his feet, but Fives puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him.
"Wait. Wait for just a little.... just a little more," he says, and his voice in unsteady. Uncertain. Fives is just as shaken as the rest of them. "We can't risk... we can't."
He's right. They can't risk it.
Droidbait clears his throat. "I'll go see if the others were able to kill the all-clear signal," he suggests quietly. Fives nods and waves a hand.
"Good idea," the ARC says. "Take Hevy with you. The Sergeant will be angry. It'll be better if two of you go."
Hevy spares a quick look at Cutup, who nods curtly. He'll be alright for now. Fives is keeping watch, too, after all, so Hevy turns and walks toward the blast doors with Droidbait. The blast doors slide open. Hevy has one foot inside when Echo suddenly lets out a shout.
"Movement, nine o'clock!" he calls out urgently. "Too far away to get a good visual!"
Hevy whirls around. Next to him, Droidbait lets out a groan of frustration and nerves.
"Movement at three o'clock!" Cutup reports, voice wavering. "I can't make it out, either! They're staying just out of range!"
Fives growls.
"What the kriff are they?" he hisses. The tension is back, increasing tenfold with every moment of uncertainty. "Is it more droids? But only two escape pods landed!"
Something taps the back of Hevy's ankles. He doesn't feel it—his armor prevents that, but he hears the distinct click of plastoid alloy, and twists to look down behind himself.
It's a helmet. A clone helmet, and Hevy stares at it in blank confusion for a second before he really realizes what he's seeing.
His stomach drops as he comes to the sickening realization that it's Nub's helmet.
Nub, who had gone inside to kill the all-clear switch. So why was his helmet...?
Hevy looks up.
The commando droid crouched at the top of the ramp leading into their base stares back at him with cold, glowing white optics. The vibrosword in its hand is dripping with blood. Nub's blood. The trooper's limp body is motionless at the droid's feet.
Next to him, Droidbait lets out a terrified, choked-off cry of horror.
Then the commando droid straightens, lifting the gun in it's other hand, and Hevy's limbs suddenly unfreeze.
"Droids!" he roars, louder than he's ever shouted anything else before. He doesn't raise his Z-6—there's no way he'll be able to lift the heavy weapon faster than the commando droid's smaller E-5. Instead he dives to the side, colliding with Droidbait and tackling his petrified brother to the side. The red blaster bolt streaks past them, barely missing Hevy's back.
He fumbles for his weapon once they're out of the droid's line of fire. He watches as Fives whips around and fires off three pinpoint accurate shots without even thinking, drawing in shooting in that smooth motion that Hevy's been trying to perfect for weeks. The commando droid collapses into a pile of smoking parts, but two more round the corner.
"What the kriff—" Echo spits out, turning awkwardly with the sniper rifle. "Kriffing, how did they get in the base—?"
"No, no, this can't—we stopped them!" Cutup gasps out. "We stopped them, the escape pods, how, what's—!?"
"Don't know, doesn't matter!" Fives shouts. "Shoot them! Shoot them now or we're dead!"
Hevy's mind is shrieking in horror and denial, but his body understands the order. His Z-6 hums to life in his hands, spitting out plasma bolts and tearing the commandos down before they're even halfway down the ramp.
Four more take their place.
"Back up!" Fives yells, and there's a hint of hysteria in his voice. "Back up, use the crates for cover! Move now, Domino!"
Cutup and Echo are off like shots, diving behind the shipment of crates—but Hevy can't move, because if he moves he'll leave the frozen Droidbait exposed. He holds his ground, sweeping his machine gun from side to side and catching the commando droids in the stream of plasma bolts.
It won't hold them for long.
Blaster fire streaks over his shoulders. Echo and Cutup are laying down cover fire. In an instant Fives is at Hevy's side, grabbing Droidbait and hoisting their brother to his feet.
"Go, go now!" Fives screams, shoving Droidbait towards the safety of the crates. Droidbait stumbles, trembling violently, but he finds his balance and goes.
Hevy and Fives back up quickly, firing all the way, until they can slip into cover beside their brothers. Hevy's ears are filled with shrieking white noise, confusion and fear mixing together and making it hard for him to process things. Lasers ping against the crates, rattling their feeble cover.
This is wrong. This isn't suppose to happen. Nub and O'Niner were suppose to survive.
Hevy struggles for a long moment to shake off his emotions and settle into the warrior mindset the Kaminoans had designed for them, but it's hard. Harder than it's ever been before.
Because Hevy knows how this ends. He's lived it.
He's died with it.
Over the sound of blaster fire he becomes aware that his ARC brothers are speaking, yelling to be heard above the commandos. Cutup is struggling to hold them off alone, and Droidbait is sitting numbly on the ground, fists clenched around his DC-15S.
Hevy reaches toward him and grips his shoulders.
"Droidbait! Snap out of it!" he growls, and gives his brother a shake. "You don't have time to freak out. We need you here and now. We've been training for this! Come on, pull it together!"
Droidbait jerks. For a moment Hevy's afraid he's made it worse. Droidbait's breaths are coming faster and faster, on the verge of hyperventilating, until suddenly he seems to regain some control of himself.
"Hevy..." he says weakly. "Hevy, the droids. How did they—?"
"Blast it, I don't know!" Hevy snaps. "But I do know that they killed Nub and the Sergeant, and they'll kill us all again if we don't do something, so you need to focus!"
Droidbait shakes his head.
"No, no, no—we can't let them—I'm not dying again. I'm not."
"Then kriffing fight!" Hevy snarls, and turns to help Cutup without waiting to see if Droidbait will finally act. Cutup is doing a fine job of keeping the droids pinned down, but his single-shot sniper rifle isn't very effective against the collective hoard. Hevy's Z-6 helps, but the commando droids are adjusting to the resistance by now, finding their own pockets of cover to fire from and advancing faster than Hevy and Cutup can take them out.
Fives and Echo finally return fire as well, their own weapons joining the fray. Fives slides into place at Hevy's side, DC-15S providing the perfect contrast to the wide-spray of Hevy's machine gun.
"We'll hold them for as long as we can!" Fives shouts to him over the roar of battle. "There's nothing else we can do!"
Ice shoots through Hevy's veins at his brother's words. They have nowhere to go. The platform ends at their backs.
They're going to die again. Even though they had been prepared this time, even though they had trained for it—it wasn't enough.
Hevy's hands tremble on his weapon, but he keeps fighting, because what else is he going to do?
Over his shoulder, Echo suddenly lets out a cry of pain. Fives' head whips to the side at the sound.
"Echo?" the ARC shouts worriedly, and his finger halts on the trigger.
The opening is small, but the commando droids take it. Two come surging forward while the more experienced ARCs are momentarily distracted, darting through the clone's crossfire. Hevy manages to take one down before it can get too far, but the second twists away from his line of fire and leaps into the air. The vibrosword glints as it slashes through the air, and too late Hevy sees that Cutup is the droid's target. Cutup sees it coming and tries to lift his sniper rifle, but he's not fast enough. The sword heads right for his neck—
A blue energy bolt flies over Hevy's shoulder, hitting the droid right between its optics. It collapses mid-air, missing Cutup by a mere foot, and the vibrosword skitters off the edge of the platform. Hevy turns to compliment Fives on the skilled shot, and is shocked to see that it's Droidbait standing firmly behind him. The tip of his gunbarrel is smoking slightly.
"Good shot, Droidbait," Cutup says quietly, voice full of approval and pride. Droidbait nods jerkily and grips his gun tighter. His free hand traces an ARC symbol in the air: the sign for "one".
His first kill, Hevy realizes, and feels a surge of delight. At the very least, they've done this. Droidbait won't die without taking anything with him, this time.
Echo has been shot. It doesn't look too serious, but the blaster bolt tore through a section of his chest armor, and Hevy can see a hint of bloody skin beneath the tattered blacks through the hole. He's still fighting, with Fives at his side.
Hevy can't believe his eyes when the commando droids begin to fall back a moment later. From the surprised mix of curses and exclamations of awe from his brothers, they can't believe it, either.
"There's no way they're giving up," Cutup whispers incredulously. "No way. They've got us cornered!"
The blast doors actually slide shut, sealing the commando droids inside the base, and Hevy stops firing.
"What...?" Droidbait begins, hesitantly poking his head out of cover.
"Don't move!" Echo snaps out, voice sharper than any whip. "None of you move! Stay behind cover!"
Hevy flinches and obeys, because that's Echo's ARC trooper tone, near impossible to ignore. Cutup and Droidbait mirror him, hunkering down even further behind their crates. Hevy looks at the ARCs. If anything, they're more tense than they had been before, shoulders tensed and fingers twitching on the triggers of their weapons.
"Fives?" Hevy says slowly, searching for an explanation. Fives shakes his head.
"They aren't retreating," he warns them. "Commando droids don't retreat. They're planning something, and I don't know—"
The blast doors slide open. Hevy tenses, but no commando droids come leaping through. Instead, a small, round object is rolled through.
Hevy's heart stops.
"Get down!" he shouts.
And then the thermal detonator goes off, and the world disappears in a flash of light and a bang that makes everything else go silent.
He doesn't lose consciousness—but it's a close thing. When he can feel his body again he's on his back, staring helplessly up at the dark sky. His ears are ringing, and his limbs are unresponsive.
"...lp... Hev... me! An... to!" he hears, as if from a long, long ways away. He groans and slowly manages to clench his fists. The absence of his Z-6 scares him more than anything else. Last time he had let go of it during a fight, he had died. Adrenaline shoots through his veins at that thought, and he drags himself up into a sitting position.
The thermal detonator had cleared away much of Domino's cover, but not quite all of it—for the most part, Hevy's brothers had been spared from both flames and shrapnel. Echo and Fives are already climbing to their feet on the far side of the platform. Droidbait is near Hevy, and appears to be unconscious, but Cutup—
Hevy can't see Cutup.
Panic spikes through his body, and he whips around, searching for their squadmate. The ringing in his ears is just starting to fade, and suddenly he can hear a brother's voice.
"Hevy, Hevy! Help me!"
Hevy jerks around, and catches sight of black-gloved hands clinging to the edge of the platform.
"Cutup! Hang on!" he yells, and his own voice sounds warped to his damaged eardrums.
Hevy dives for Cutup's hands. He can see them slipping, and desperately grabs for them. He manages to close one hand around Cutup's wrist, but the other misses, and he shouts in pain as Cutup's full weight tugs brutally at his arm.
"Droidbait!" Hevy shouts, before remembering that Droidbait is unconscious, and Fives and Echo are a whole platform away. Cutup's hand is slipping, slipping, but Hevy tightens his grip, because he is not going to let his brother fall.
Cutup scrabbles to grab onto him with his other hand, but the strange distribution of weight throws off Hevy's sense of balance and nearly sends them both tumbling over the side. Hevy grits his teeth as the pressure on his arm increases, threatening to dislocate the limb.
Fives shouts from the other side of the platform. Hevy thinks their predicament has finally been noticed, but blaster fire rings out—the droids are back.
Cutup is slipping again.
Hevy refuses to let go.
Cutup looks up at him, tilting his helmet back.
"Hevy," he says. It's the first thing Hevy's been able to hear clearly since the detonator, and he knows what Cutup is going to say before he does.
"No," he spits out, grimacing at the strain. Cutup ignores him.
"Let go," Cutup says evenly. He releases Hevy's wrist himself, and it feels like the weight on Hevy's arm has doubled.
"I won't," Hevy snarls through gritted teeth. "I won't, don't you dare—!"
"Help them," Cutup urges. "Help them. They're good, but they can't do it alone."
"We need you, too," Hevy insists stubbornly. Cutup's breath hitches.
"Let go, brother," he says again, terrifyingly neutral.
Hevy feels the phantom heat of an explosion across his body—a different explosion, from a different time. He hears a droid's voice, cold mechanical—"Do we take prisoners?"
"I'm not letting go," Hevy growls. He knows better than anyone that self-sacrifice is sometimes necessary—but not this time.
"I've got you, brother," he says firmly. "I've got you. No one's getting left behind."
His arm kriffing hurts. The pressure is agonizing, and he knows it won't be long until it's tugged out of it's socket. He doesn't know if he'll be able to hold on then, but he's going to try.
The platform suddenly lurches beneath them. Hevy staggers, slides. He nearly loses his grip.
"They're cutting the support pillars below!" he hears Echo shout in panic, and a ball of ice sinks in his stomach.
The platform buckles again. Fives and Echo are shouting, shooting—but whatever they're doing, it isn't working. Hevy's mind whirls. If the droids destroy the platform, it will be obvious that something happened to the base—but then, maybe they don't care at this point.
There's a strange groaning sound as somewhere below them, metal pillars buckle. Hevy looks into Cutup's visor and tries to imagine his brother's face behind it.
"Hevy..." Cutup says again, voice thick. Hevy hears more shouting behind them—perhaps Echo and Fives have finally noticed them, but it's far too late.
The platform drops. It's been cut away from the main base, and Hevy catches a glimpse of more commando droids hiding in the shadows of the cliff underneath it, armed with explosives and laser cutters.
Freefall rips Cutup away from him, and the world is spinning, spiralling, out of control. A brother plummets past him—he can't tell who it is in the chaos, but the fear he feels is not for himself—it is for his brothers.
They've failed.