"COOPERATE AND YOU MIGHT SURVIVE."

It's a funny thing how survival felt just like the opposite. He was floating in limbo: stuck between life and death, consciousness and sleep. It was difficult to remember the past to understand the present, but that hardly stopped him from trying.

He remembered the torture all too well. The serum injected into his veins to intensify the pain dealt. The mental mind games that damaged him just as much—if not more—than the physical prodding. He could remember the electric current coursing through his nervous system, just long enough to keep him on the edge of consciousness before tactics were swapped to introduce a new definition to the word pain. He was broken, bruised, and bloody.

His body ached. But as he slowly permitted his eyes to drift open, this ache was different than that of less than twenty-four hours previously. This ache was reminiscent of rigor mortis, of a body that had not moved for several days—if ever. It felt wrong. It felt vulnerable.

He inhaled and the air was like fire as it touched his lungs, burning them in a good way since he hadn't believed he'd ever breathe again. He'd lost hope and genuinely accepted that he wasn't going to survive his last interrogation session. Not after he tried to escape and the poison infiltrated his airways, smothering his vision and effortlessly choking him.

Hemlock's cold, manic eyes still bore into his soul—though none would claim he was capable of bearing a soul as clones had yet to be recognized as sentient beings. He closed his eyes and the scientist haunted his dreams, he opened his eyes and the monster still remained. A monster that not only caught him, but had captured the kid too.

"Crosshair. Crosshair, wake up!"

He could still hear the fear trembling in her voice from the brief moment she'd been permitted to see him as he recovered. He hadn't quite been conscious, but he'd felt her presence. She wasn't supposed to be here, but if she was that meant his message had failed to reach the ears of his brothers.

"Plan 88. You have to hide. They're after O—"

Those suspicions had only been confirmed when she'd visited his cell several days later. It had taken about a week or so for the first meeting, but so much time had passed before he saw her again that her hair had grown past her shoulders. From the imperial garb to the way her hair had been styled back into a ponytail, she looked like a miniature replica of the female clone medic that Hemlock kept at his side. It was eerie how quickly they'd indoctrinated her, yet her defiance wasn't to be undermined.

"I'm not giving up, Crosshair. I won't let you either."

"Omega." He sighed. It had been the first time he'd actually addressed her by her name. She either didn't realize or didn't point it out, but she'd softened his harsh exterior. A flaw he quickly tried to build his walls around. "Don't risk anything for me. I belong in here."

"None of us belong in here."

That was the last conversation they'd had together. A conversation so long ago that he couldn't remember how much time had passed since. It wasn't uncommon that he lost track of time between interrogation sessions. Especially not when Hemlock had suddenly switched up his tactics and actually allowed him to fall unconscious.

The walls of his cell were usually reflective enough to analyze the damage following a session. He'd created a habit of checking for bruises and cuts. It's not like he'd been given a medkit to repair himself, and it was rarely beneficial; however, it was one of the few ways he still felt in control where all sense of autonomy had previously been stripped.

He slowly rose from the stiff cot, knowing that if he lifted his head too quickly he might lose consciousness once more—something he'd learned after the first few sessions. Again, something felt wrong. He felt more exposed and vulnerable than he previously had, like his entire perspective had shifted.

His cell had felt tight and constricting before. It was almost enough to make him claustrophobic. Now it felt like the opposite. Too open and too large.

He could only come up with two plausible options. One: he'd been unknowingly transferred to a different cell. Two: they'd messed with his vision and damaged one of his most valued aspects as a sniper.

Neither option was correct.

The world wasn't any bigger, he was just kriffing small. The reflection that stared back at him paled as he felt the color drain from his own face. His breath caught in his chest while his heart pounded against his ribcage.

He fell back onto the ground, skittering away from the reflection that felt utterly impossible. He pressed his back against the cot behind him while one of his hands clutched the cloth material covering his chest as if that might soothe the beating of his heart.

Ever so slowly, he lifted his free hand up in front of his eyes. His dominant shooting hand trembled. He immediately pulled it down to his chest, holding it close as if he could deny the truth of how small it looked.

"Kriff," he whispered, but swallowed at the meek sound of a voice he hadn't heard in well over six years.

He closed his eyes, wishing that perhaps he was simply hallucinating. There was still a faint hope that when he opened his eyes that he'd actually wake up to the face he was accustomed to.

Yet it was that of a cadet that blinked back at him as he slowly approached the reflection a second time. By clone standards, he looked around three or four, which by nat-born standards was equivalent to anywhere between six and eight.

His silver hair was a bit longer than he remembered, just barely curling down around his ears. His tattoo was gone, but so was the burn from Bracca. It was his size that he found most jarring. Sure, he knew he'd been small and thin, but looking at his reflection now he wouldn't be surprised if the breeze from the cell door opening would knock him to the ground. No wonder Hunter had always been so protective.

Hunter...

He'd initially been annoyed at the thought of his brother, but now there was a lingering desire for his presence. A need for safety that he'd only felt when standing along his brothers. A feeling that certainly wasn't attained by the sudden presence of troopers standing outside his cell.

"He's finally awake," the first noted.

"About time," the second scoffed.

Just from the sound of their voices Crosshair could tell they were nat-borns. The sub-par soldiers that the empire had less than subtly replaced the clones with.

The second trooper opened the cell and stepped inside. Crosshair failed to fight the flight reaction that forced him to cower further back, swallowing down the overwhelming fear that weighed against his chest. However, there was nowhere to flee.

The trooper had no problem snatching him by the wrist, but not without a warning, "Keep squirming and just see what happens."

Crosshair froze. He had no doubts that the trooper fully intended to act on that threat, especially after his finger twitched toward the blaster at his side.

Crosshair once prided himself on showing little emotion. He'd learned how to act like a wall, unfazed by almost anything thrown at him... but it had come with time and experience. In the present moment, that unwelcome fear overpowered everything else. It was only as the first trooper acknowledged the tears sliding down the sides of his face that he was forced to see how broken those walls were.

"You're scaring him!" the first trooper chastised.

"Why do you care?" the second trooper asked with a scoff. "It's just another one of the doctor's experiments."

"It's a kid," the first trooper corrected. "Don't you have kids?"

The second trooper scoffed again. "Absolutely not."

"Well, I do." The first trooper removed his helmet, glaring at his partner before bending down so that Crosshair wouldn't need to crane his neck nearly as far to look up at them. "It's okay."

Crosshair quickly brushed away the tears that stained his cheeks. He wasn't sure which he found worse: the intimidation tactics of the second officer or the pity of the first. Both made his stomach roil.

"Alright, let's go," the second trooper insisted. "And cover your face. You know they hate it when we remove our helmets while on the clock."

The first trooper sighed, offering Crosshair one last smile before sliding the helmet back over his head. He took point, leading the others from the front while the second trooper took the back.

They arrived at the private lab a few minutes later. The feeling of dread had moved down into the pit of Crosshair's stomach as he was directed toward the medical table in the center of the room.

His dread only increased at the sight of Nala Se and a woman he briefly recalled being named Dr. Scalder. Dr. Karr was nowhere to be seen; however, from the updates he'd previously received, it was safe to assume she was with Omega at the present moment. Perhaps the reason behind why the kid hadn't stopped by recently.

"Strap it down here," Dr. Scalder requested—though it was spoken more like a demand.

Crosshair struggled against his captors, but he was easily overpowered. The first trooper did appear concerned by the order, but held his tongue before leaving with only a single glance cast back over his shoulder as he exited the lab.

"Start preparing the tests," Dr. Scalder instructed. "I'll be right back... and I'll know if you've tampered with any of the results. Remember, Hemlock has precautions in order should you hinder the Empire's progress any more than you already have. We would've reached this step months ago had you not discarded the young clone's blood each time it was drawn."

Nala Se didn't say a word as Dr. Scalder left. She silently began working with the surrounding medical equipment, but there was a sullenness to her posture. Finally, Crosshair couldn't take the silence any longer.

"What did you do to me?" his voice squeaked. He'd meant to snap at her with a snarl, but his diminutive stature continued to counteract his intentions. He almost preferred the silence at that moment.

Nala Se froze. Slowly, she turned and looked at him with calculating eyes.

"The emperor," she finally spoke, "has ordered experiments to validate the theory that consciousness can be transferred from one life form to a carbon copy without deteriorating."

Crosshair felt his heart leap from his chest as he processed what her explanation meant.

"It was only after the proper bonding agent was discovered that we progressed to the next stage," Nala Se continued. "Many clones were placed in suspended animation upon their deaths in preparation of these experiments. We'd been growing clone bodies for this specific purpose and have attempted to transfer the consciousness of dying clones into these bodies... You are the first to have survived this process while retaining the designated M-count."

Crosshair took a shaky breath. "What does this have to do with Omega?"

"She was the final component," Nala Se explained. "Her blood acts as the binding agent between a cloned life form and a designated M-count."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed. Whatever fear had been holding him captive dissipated at the threat posed toward the kid. "Meaning what?"

"Should Dr. Hemlock find these tests satisfactory," Nala Se replied. "You and Omega will likely be locked within the walls of the Vault before the day is through... Let us begin."

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

IT WAS MID AFTERNOON BEFORE OMEGA WAS RETRIEVED FROM HER "ROOM", YET EMERIE ACTED AS IF THEIR ROUTINE HADN'T BEEN DISRUPTED. She hardly looked up from the datapad in her hand as she addressed the girl before her.

"Good morning, Omega."

Omega didn't reply. She kept her eyes turned toward the ground. Yet as Emerie finally looked up, the scientist could see that the child was in a better mood than the previous evening... Perhaps it had been the gesture of peace extended when the makeshift tooka doll had been returned.

"Come along," Emerie instructed. "There is much to do today."

Omega quietly followed Emerie without so much as a word; however, her brow creased with unease at the increase of patrols. There'd been a decent amount of troopers located at the Tantiss base previously, but now it appeared overrun as one could hardly take two steps without running into another patrol unit.

This wasn't the first difference she'd noticed though. It had started almost a week ago when Emerie had taken a private sample of the girl's blood and tested it herself. Hemlock had been less than pleased to discover that Nala Se had apparently been hindering their work. Omega only learned of the results herself as the doctor used such information against her the same day she released Batcher out into the wild. He'd made an alternate threat once she'd made the claim that she was untouchable: the people around her were not.

From that point she'd quietly behaved and fallen into line, still searching for any weak points to escape while ensuring she did what was necessary to keep those closest to her safe. Aside from the increased amount of tests, not much had changed from her daily routine... at least not until today.

"Something's different," Omega noted, breaking the bitter silence between them. "Why are there so many troopers around?"

"I'm not certain," Emerie replied. Her eyes remained on the datapad in hand. It beeped as she continued to scroll through the day's itinerary.

"You don't know?" Omega asked. The tone of her voice was stuck between incredulous and disbelief, but she masked both well.

"The doctor will inform me if it's necessary," Emerie explained. She seemed unfazed by the secrecy of the Tantiss base, but perhaps Omega would have been too if it was all she'd ever known... She'd always been inquisitive by nature; however, back on Kamino there were moments that Nala Se had left her in the dark.

The door to the lab slid open. Dr. Hemlock and Nala Se were already waiting.

"Emerie, a word?" Hemlock requested, pulling aside the scientist. Omega couldn't help but eavesdrop as she drifted to Nala Se's side. "An unexpected guest is arriving shortly. Nala Se and I will be indisposed until he departs. Oversee the lab in her absence."

Emerie nodded. "As you wish, Doctor. I will begin testing the latest samples."

Nala Se frowned. "That is unnecessary. I will see to them when I return."

Although his expression remained neutral, Hemlock's eyes were smug—as if he'd caught the Kaminoan in a lie that she was indeed hiding something else. "Dr. Karr's quite capable of handling such matters. See it done."

Hemlock turned toward the clone commando who'd approached, and Nala Se did not hesitate to pull the girl aside. They had little time and not even a second could be wasted.

"Omega, listen carefully," Nala Se instructed, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "If Emerie is left to conduct these tests, you'll be locked away in the Vault before the day is over. Any chance of escape will be too late. You must flee this facility."

Omega's brow furrowed. The number of questions swimming around her mind only grew. "But why? She's been testing my sample all week. What's changed?"

"There's no time," Nala Se contradicted, slowly shaking her head. "Go to the lab, retrieve my datapad and use it to escape. Sneak aboard a shuttle and flee."

"Nala Se," Hemlock insisted the Kaminoan leave the room with him.

"You must go," Nala Se repeated just above a whisper as she returned to Hemlock's side and was escorted out of the lab.

As if to emphasize her point, the large scanner beside the data servers rotated and whirred as another sample was tested. The lab doors closed with a swish and Omega was left alone with Emerie.

There was no conversation between them, but the room was far from silent. The datapad in the scientist's hand beeped with each task, the servers blinked and chirped, and the scanner whirred with each rotation.

It was only once Emerie looked up that she noticed the girl lingering rather than completing her assigned tasks. "Did you need something, Omega?"

"I..." Omega hesitated. "Hemlock said there's a guest arriving. Who is it?"

"It's best not to ask questions," Emerie replied. "See to your tasks for the day."

Omega hesitated again, glancing between Emerie and the datapad hung on the wall. "What's different about today's tests?"

Emerie almost looked surprised, though her face did little to express that other than the slight eyebrow raise. "We've made recent advancements on our primary objective. Dr. Hemlock wishes to see how far we've come with the latest experiment."

"And what does that have to do with my sample?" Omega asked.

"It was your sample that allowed us to connect the dots of what we were missing. Your sample allowed us to take the next step," Emerie explained.

"The next step?" Omega understood she was pushing the limits with all of her questions, but her curiosity hardly ever let her back down.

"You will see soon..." Emerie vaguely replied. She noticed the unease and tension in the girl's shoulders. She sighed, briefly offering an alternative before turning back toward the samples. "Forget your assignments and get some rest. Dr. Hemlock has informed me that you'll be transferring to another room this evening."

Omega's blood ran cold, but she slowly nodded her head—keeping a look of feigned innocence plastered to her face. "Okay."

She paused at the door, something that didn't go unnoticed as Emerie addressed her again. "Omega, I can handle things here. Go. I'll check on you later."

Remaining cautious, Omega quickly dislodged Nala Se's personal datapad from the wall before exiting the lab. Her pace was quick, but she refrained from running to keep the surrounding patrols from growing suspicious. Once the coast was clear, Omega used the datapad to gain access to the nearest lift—not without kicking an approaching mouse droid as it tried to follow her into the area. And that kick was personal, everything she kept pent up that she couldn't release on those that she actually wanted to. She took the lift down to the sub levels, sneaking past several cells before stopping in front of the one assigned to her brother.

"Crosshair."

No one answered. If Omega hadn't heard the small shuffle along the wall of the cell door, she might have assumed that no one was actually inside the cell. But since she had, it seemed that Crosshair was actually just avoiding her. She rolled her eyes.

"Crosshair," she tried again. "I know you're in there."

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, but he kept himself pressed against the wall of the door so that she couldn't see him. Although his voice was just above a whisper, something was different about it.

"Escaping," Omega replied. "And you're coming with me."

"You found a weak point?" he sounded surprised.

"Not exactly," Omega sheepishly admitted with a shrug. "I'm kinda improvising."

"Is that some kind of joke?" Crosshair asked. She could almost picture the way his nose would have wrinkled as he asked the question with a cadence of disbelief. But as he kept himself hidden, imagination was all she had to work with.

"I'll explain later," Omega promised. "Just get the guards' attention."

"That's not a plan."

Omega scoffed. "Just distract them."

She sprinted back around the corner just as the pair of guards entered the main chamber. The troopers were at ease, failing to recognize her presence; however, she understood that would only last so long. Crosshair had yet to do anything, and she was beginning to grow nervous by the tense silence that clung to the air.

"Guards!" Crosshair's voice dispelled the silence.

Omega still couldn't understand why something at the back of her mind issued a warning. It was like a sixth sense that occasionally vibrated her skull, telling her that something was wrong. She never equated her senses to the skill level of Hunter, but that gut feeling had yet to ever steer her astray.

The pair of troopers slowly made their way toward the cell. The first lingered back, but the second showed no hesitation to approach the cell.

Omega didn't wait to take advantage of the distraction. She kept her eyes focused on the task before her even though her inner thoughts kept telling her to turn around.

"Unlock this cell," Crosshair's voice cracked with a tremor.

"What do you think you're doing?" the second trooper asked, a haughty condescension present in his tone.

"I was giving you an order," Crosshair replied.

Omega could picture the ongoing staring contest of her brother and the trooper. Neither one willing to back down while glaring into the other's eyes. Yet she was surprised by the laugh that echoed from the trooper.

"This kid thinks he outranks us," the trooper scoffed.

Omega froze. She'd assumed that the change in her brother's voice had been caused by the torture he'd undergone during his time here on Tantiss. But as she glanced over to get confirmation that he was ready for the next stage in their improvised escape plan, her blood ran cold as she turned to see an undersized cadet glaring up at the trooper.

"I do," Crosshair bristled. "And I'll take your blaster too."

The trooper laughed and shook his head. "Oh yeah? How are you gonna do that?"

"You'll see—"

"Uh huh," the trooper didn't sound like he believed him. Without warning, the trooper lowered his blaster and opened the cell door himself. "Take your best shot, kid."

The look of defiance was quickly wiped from Crosshair's face as he took a wary step back. He'd been caught off guard by the trooper's bold move—but even if he hadn't been, Omega understood that there was little Crosshair would have been able to do had she been the one to open the cell. The trooper towered over Crosshair, more than twice his size and he was quick to use that to his advantage as he lifted the cadet from the ground.

"Leave the kid alone, Gar," the first trooper finally tried to intervene.

"It's just a little harmless fun, Crik," the second trooper—Gar contradicted. "It's not like I was actually going to hurt the little—"

He stopped speaking as he turned and his gaze landed on Omega. Crosshair was struggling against his grip, but it was obvious he was less than comfortable as the trooper held him at an arm's length away by his wrist.

Crik also turned, facing the other child that had interrupted his partner's sentence. Although his helmet remained on, the way his posture tensed implied that the situation was about to get a lot worse.

Omega swallowed then offered a sheepish wave, "Hello."

Gar dropped Crosshair—hard as her brother landed on the ground with a thud. The trooper scrambled to aim and fire, but the stun bolt that followed did not originate from his blaster.

Crik took a shaky breath, lowering his blaster as Gar collapsed inside the cell beside Crosshair. The first trooper then placed his weapon on the ground as if to prove that he meant them no harm. Omega immediately snatched the blaster from the ground, pointing it toward Crik as she backed up toward the cell.

"Crosshair," her voice trembled with concern and uncertainty. "Are you alright?"

"Define alright," he groaned as he slowly returned to his feet. His posture went rigid as he looked up at Omega. She was now at least a head taller than him—an unfamiliar dynamic between the two as the last time they'd stood beside one another he'd craned his neck to look down.

She noticed the flicker of fear that widened his eyes and the way his chest hitched with each breath he took. Her lip trembled as she looked her brother over. He shrunk under her gaze, but she didn't let him pull away as she quickly wrapped her arms around him.

"What did they do to you?" she whispered as she held him close.

"I... I don't know," his voice broke. He was hesitant at first, but he slowly wrapped his arms around her while his fingers clutched the cloth on her back. He tucked his head into the crook of her neck and his chest heaved as if he could no longer hold back the wall of emotions overwhelming him.

"You're gonna be alright," Crik said, breaking the silence as if trying to console them.

Omega immediately lifted the blaster, aiming at Crik with one hand while keeping the other around Crosshair. "What did they do to him?"

"I don't know what they do in the labs," Crik admitted, "but the screams are haunting enough to know it's something unnatural and inhumane."

Crosshair scoffed. He slowly stepped out from underneath Omega, putting on a brave face as if nothing had changed. "Inhumane never offended your kind previously when it came to our treatment."

Omega agreed, narrowing her eyes as she lifted her second hand to steady the blaster. "Why'd you stun your partner?"

"You're kids," Crik replied, pulling off his helmet while kneeling as if to put himself at their level. Crosshair flinched, but the trooper didn't seem to notice. "This isn't a place for kids."

It was like some kind of understanding had been reached between them. Omega slowly nodded her head. "Thank you."

She then pulled the trigger, stunning the first trooper as he too fell to the ground unconscious.

"Come on," she ushered Crosshair to follow as she retrieved Nala Se's datapad from the central control center. "We have to go."

"Go where?" Crosshair asked.

"I told you. We're escaping," Omega replied, tucking the datapad under her arm while she offered one blaster to her brother as she retrieved the other which had been discarded when Gar was stunned.

Crosshair accepted the blaster, but it looked clumsy and oversized in comparison to his small frame. He grimaced, but voiced no complaint as he followed Omega down the corridor back toward the lift.

"Why now?" he whispered, watching their backs as Omega unlocked the doors. "What's changed?"

Omega glanced back at him with an amused look.

He sighed. "Aside from the obvious."

"Nala Se said I had to," she replied vaguely. "And I wasn't gonna leave without you. She told me to use her datapad to access the base and find a shuttle. We just need to find a shuttle."

The doors swished open and they rode the lift up to the next level, finally escaping the cell level. Omega led the way, ducking behind a central command server as a patrol entered the room.

"We're not supposed to be on patrol until midwatch," the first trooper complained.

"Commander's orders," the second trooper explained as they exited the room. "All hands on deck until the Emperor departs."

"The emperor's here?" Crosshair hissed.

"What?" Omega innocently asked while sliding the datapad into the server. "I didn't know."

Crosshair sighed. "Another reason why this was not the day to wing an escape."

"Thanks for the reminder, but I think we're past that point," Omega retorted, but paused as she noticed the way the blaster trembled in her brother's hands. "Your hand's getting worse, isn't it?"

"I-It's fine," he stammered. Yet there was an edge to his voice that contradicted him. He tried to cover one hand with the other to stop the shaking. But after nearly dropping the blaster, he was forced to keep two hands on the weapon at all times.

"Uh oh..." Omega muttered as she turned her eyes back toward the datapad.

"What?" Crosshair questioned.

"All shuttles have been grounded, except the Emperor's," Omega replied. A determined look crossed her face. "We'll have to steal it."

"Impossible," Crosshair immediately shook his head. "It will be too well-guarded, even for me—" He paused, glancing down at his diminutive stature. "Even for me at the proper size."

Omega pursed her lips, glancing toward the ground. She gasped as she met Crosshair's gaze with a look that was reminiscent of one his brothers' would make when creating their half-brained schemes. "Wait! I know a shuttle we can use. It crash-landed outside the perimeter back when I first came here."

Crosshair frowned. "How does a crashed shuttle help us?"

"If the comms are still functioning, we can contact Hunter and Wrecker," Omega explained.

Crosshair sighed. "And how do we get outside?"

That scheming look on her face only grew more determined. "Follow me."

Crosshair glanced over his shoulder, then followed after her. He swore under his breath, cursing the current length of his legs as he struggled to keep up with a pace that would have been a brisk walk for his stride at full size.

"Are you alright?" Omega asked, stopping only once the doors had opened to the kennel room.

Crosshair ignored the question, glancing around the room with unease. "Now what?"

Recognizing he didn't want to talk about the obvious problem, Omega accepted the silent request of topic change as she explained her plan. "We'll use the kennel chute. It leads outside, but it's protected by a timed ray shield. We'll have to move fast or we'll be trapped."

Crosshair twitched at the raucous barking that echoed around the Lurca hound kennels. He frowned. "Oh, I can hardly wait."

"We can use Batcher's empty kennel," Omega announced. "Be ready—"

The entrance door swished open and Emerie entered the room. She looked surprised, but only to see them here. She hardly glanced at Crosshair despite the fact that he had his gun trained on her.

"Omega."

Crosshair adjusted the blaster, but Omega held out a hand and shook her head. "Don't!"

"You should go back to your room," Emerie suggested.

"You mean her cell," Crosshair seethed, adjusting the blaster in his arms again. It was heavier than he remembered and his arms were beginning to fatigue.

"You're not thinking clearly," Emerie contradicted. Her eyes then focused on Crosshair with both a hardened look and one of softened sympathy, implying that she knew who he was. "Neither of you. But it's not too late. Come with me and no one needs to know about this."

"I can't do that." Omega shook her head.

"Omega, if this is about being separated from your brother that will not be an issue by this evening," Emerie explained. Her voice was cold, but there was something subtle in her tone almost like she was trying to console the girl. "You weren't the only one being relocated to the Vault."

Omega glanced over at Crosshair before narrowing her eyes as she looked back at Emerie. "What do you mean?"

Emerie didn't blink, but she did shift her focus toward Crosshair with a hidden curiosity. "What has Nala Se told you about Project Necromancer?"

"Nothing," Omega admitted with a defeated look. "Just that I would be in danger if you tested the samples today..."

Omega glanced over at Crosshair. Confusion twisted his features as he glanced between Emerie and Omega as if they understood something he didn't. "What?"

"You're what's different," Omega whispered as if coming to that realization herself.

Crosshair blinked. "What?"

"It's your sample that's so dangerous," Omega continued. "Nala Se was probably destroying it like she'd previously done with mine, but now that Emerie was left in charge..."

"Your sample is just as important, Omega," Emerie corrected. "Without your blood, we never would have been able to take the next step in successfully transferring a conscious essence while retaining the designated M-count. It's the combination that's special."

Crosshair didn't like where the conversation was headed, but Omega's questions didn't stop. Her eyes widened and she took a protective step in front of Crosshair, one he would have stopped if he hadn't been frozen in place. The blaster in his hands trembled again. Now with Omega directly in front of him, if Emerie did make a move he wouldn't be able to take the shot.

"You mean you didn't just make him younger?" Omega asked in disbelief.

Emerie shook her head. "That would be virtually impossible. Nala Se constructed a carbon copy and we transferred his life force into the cadet. For reasons one can only make assumptions about, the emperor has taken a great interest in Dr. Hemlock's work with Project Necromancer."

Crosshair's breathing grew quicker and shallower. The careless manner at which Emerie described the process was even more jarring. He felt violated in the least and enraged was an understatement; yet he remained frozen in place, unable to free himself from the fear clouding his judgment.

"We can still fix this," Emerie added.

Omega shook her head, stepping back just enough that she was no longer in Crosshair's line of fire. "I spent most of my life confined on Kamino. I won't be trapped here too... You're a clone like us, Emerie. Help us."

"Escape is not possible, Omega," Emerie contradicted. "This is for your own good."

Crosshair should have seen the comm in her hand. He should have assumed that she had one to begin with. He should have reacted quicker, but the scientist managed to press the button at the end of the comm—likely alerting the nearest Imperial forces. She took a step forward. He missed the first shot, but the second successfully stunned her.

His voice quivered as he announced the obvious. "We have to go."

He sprinted down the kennel chute, huffing with every step. Omega was just seconds behind, but she easily caught up after retrieving the datapad from the far wall. He struggled to maintain a good pace as the blaster slipped in his grip, but he didn't stop. Especially not after the ray shields began to flicker on, closing the trail behind them.

"The shield's not supposed to activate yet," Omega exclaimed, the fear of her voice echoing down the chute.

"They know we're in here," Crosshair noted. "Move faster!"

However, they both knew Crosshair was already running as fast as he could. Omega glanced over her shoulder at the quickly approaching ray shields. She bit the edge of her lip, trying to come up with a desperate last ditch effort for success.

"Crosshair, drop your blaster!"

"What?" he hissed.

"Drop your blaster," she repeated. "It's weighing you down. Get rid of it."

She could tell he was thinking over her words, contemplating and analyzing the situation in a matter of seconds before ultimately deciding that she was right. She internally sighed with relief as he dropped the blaster, increasing in speed as he was no longer so encumbered. She easily hopped over the blaster, falling right back into step behind him.

They barely made it out of the chute, diving into the open jungle as the ray shields and the final door slammed closed. They tumbled down the hill—head over heels—sliding into the bushes with little grace.

Crosshair sputtered and coughed, spitting a few leaves from his mouth while Omega stood and dusted herself off. She offered him a hand, but he brushed it aside—not harsh, but as if to prove a point that he didn't need her help.

His eyes drifted upward, scanning the skies before looking out into the jungle that laid before them. "What direction is the crashed shuttle?"

"Not sure," Omega sheepishly admitted, wiping away some of the dirt that smudged the screen of the datapad.

"Oh great," Crosshair muttered. An engine roared overhead as a departing shuttle flew overhead. Crosshair gestured upward before offering a suggestion of his own. "We'll follow the flight path."

Omega nodded. Crosshair took the lead again, but now that they were out in the open, it didn't take long for Omega to pass him. His lungs burned and his chest heaved with every breath, constantly reminding him that this wasn't the conditioned body he was used to. But this pain was pleasant in comparison to the interrogation sessions. And it was a welcome distraction from the emotional breakdown he'd experienced within the detention level.

"I'm picking up on something. I think it could be the ship," Omega broke the silence between them. She stopped running only long enough to change the direction they were headed. "That way."

Crosshair opened his mouth to speak, but froze as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. A low growling echoed around them, but the source remained unseen.

"Oh good," Crosshair sighed. His hands clenched, feeling extremely empty without the presence of a blaster. "The killer hounds."

Omega didn't hesitate. She tugged Crosshair by the arm, pulling him into step behind her. They could hear the hounds begin their pursuit as a trio of howls filled the air. The duo was making decent progress though as Omega kept track of their movement using the datapad as their guide.

Growing more excited as she glanced back over her shoulder, Omega exclaimed, "It should be up ahead—"

While distracted, her foot caught on a root. She gasped as she immediately lost her footing and slammed into the ground after falling down the short hill. The datapad bounced a few feet away. She groaned, groggily rubbing her head as she gathered herself.

Crosshair retrieved the datapad first, handing it back to Omega as he helped her back up onto her feet. He didn't ask if she was alright, but she understood how he operated enough to understand that it was implicitly asked during the silence.

She nodded her head, catching her breath as she accepted the datapad. "Thanks."

A low growl—deeper than the Lurca hounds she was familiar with—warned them of a new challenge making itself present.

Omega's eyes widened. "Crosshair..."

Crosshair slowly looked over his shoulder and watched in horror as the looming shadow increased. The Dryax rose back onto its hind legs, towering over the pair. He'd felt small before... the word puny came to mind now.

"Go..." his voice betrayed him in a chilling whisper. He turned on his heels, forcing Omega to run as he shoved her forward. "Go!"

The Dryax lunged but was overpowered as the Lurca hounds caught up to the fight. It was mere seconds, but those seconds may have just saved their lives as they sprinted deeper into the jungle.

They didn't stop running until they reached the crashed shuttle. Omega wandered inside—gathering a few supplies that remained scattered around—while Crosshair leaned against the communications console, sliding down onto the ground as he tried to catch his breath.

He grunted as Omega dropped a blaster into his lap. She grimaced, seeing that the blaster was nearly half his size before offering a sincere apology. "Sorry."

"S'fine," he muttered, adjusting the blaster so that he could keep watch while sitting there as Omega tried to get the console working. The combination of both the datapad and the console beeping put his nerves on edge. He glanced up over his shoulder, noticing the frustrated look painted on her face. "Anything?"

"It's not working!" she groaned, slamming her fists into the console. "Comms are completely dead."

The overhead whine of a ship's engine grew louder. Crosshair frowned. "They're coming."

Omega sighed, sliding down onto the ground beside her brother as she pulled her knees up into her chest. "I'm sorry. I thought this would work..."

Even though every fiber of his being felt like it was simultaneously lit on fire yet also melting into a puddle, he pulled himself off the ground back onto his feet. It was rare for him to initiate contact unless needed, so the shock on Omega's face as he extended his hand was understandable. Her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched with curiosity, but she accepted the gesture, rising back to her feet.

"You got us this far. And we're not done yet." Crosshair pulled Omega into the shadows around the side of the crashed shuttle once the sound of snapping branches made his ear twitch. His eyes darted around the dark of the jungle, trying to come up with a plan to get them out of the current predicament. He wasn't wrong, she'd gotten them that far. Which meant it was his turn to step up. He might be smaller, but his mind was still sharp. Hesitantly, he turned toward the girl. "Did they teach you plan 72?"

"Mm-hmm." Omega nodded her head. "Tech had me memorize all the plans."

A fond, bittersweet smile made the corner of his lips turn while his eyes focused on the incoming adversary. "Of course he did."

No other words were needed between them. This plan only called for two parts: the distraction and the hijacker. Neither side was safe exactly, but Crosshair was willing to take the risk of being shot at. If he went down at least she'd still have a chance at getting away.

The Rho class shuttle hovered overhead. Between the whirring engines and blinding lights it was a miracle his senses hadn't overloaded yet. He remained patient, hiding in the bushes as the commando troopers slid down their cables and began their search.

Crosshair took a deep breath, focusing on the leader. If he took out the primary commander the better their odds to take advantage of the ensuing chaos. He took another breath. He closed his eyes. The world felt silent. His eyes opened, narrowing as they focused. He released his breath, pulled the trigger, and... missed.

His shot careened into the side of the crashed shuttle, embarrassingly far from the commander and any of the other troopers for that matter. However, if he was trying to get their attention, he'd at least been successful there.

He clenched his dominant hand into a fist, pulling it close as he swallowed. His eyes widened with alarm while he struggled to get back onto his feet as the bombardment of laser fire was too much to recover from.

"Kriff!" Crosshair hissed, scrambling down the hill to fall in behind their forces.

The bushes rustled as he moved, drawing the attention of the commander who had felt at ease enough to contact his home base. The howl of a Lurca hound far too close for comfort pulled the commander's attention back toward the shuttle, which Crosshair didn't hesitate to take advantage of. He fired off a barrage of shots—none of which hit—then charged the commander, forgetting about his severe disadvantage in the current situation of hand-to-hand combat.

He ran headfirst into the commander's gut, knocking away his blaster. Although the commander grunted with discomfort, he only appeared briefly inconvenienced as he whirled around with speed greater than Crosshair had anticipated. He caught the sniper by the small frame of his chest, lifting him into the air to press him against the side of the crashed shuttle. The commander's elbow had risen higher, pressing against the smaller clone's windpipe. The breath was crushed from his lungs as his own blaster fell to the ground. Crosshair clawed at the arm restricting his airflow and his legs thrashed violently in the air. His vision tunneled and panic flooded his senses as he pictured himself trapped back inside the communications center choking on Hemlock's toxin.

His eyelids fluttered as his eyes began to roll back inside his head; however, just as he was on the verge of passing out, the commander's hold dropped and so did he. Crosshair landed on his face. He coughed and choked then gasped, flipping over as he skittered to press his back against the crashed shuttle. His trembling hands reached up to touch his throat as he caught his breath. His widened eyes bore into the ground while his hands drifted upward from his throat to pull at the curls matted to his forehead. Beads of sweat dripped down the sides of his temples. The sound of his own breathing drowned out the screams around him as his knees tucked closer to his chest.

It was only after a cold, wet tongue doused his face in slobber that he broke free from his trance. He flinched and recoiled, but the Lurca hound before him only took that as an invitation to draw closer. He was waiting for it to lunge at his throat and finish the commander's job, but the hound only cocked its head as if waiting to be scratched between the ears.

Crosshair swallowed. "You must be Batcher."

Force, he hated the sound of his own voice. It quivered with every syllable and betrayed the emotionless reputation he'd cultivated over the years. It was childish, high-pitched, and even sounded whiny at times—none of which a seasoned sniper and soldier should exude.

The hound only confirmed his theory with another quick lick before charging back into battle. Crosshair groaned and coughed, pulling himself back onto his feet while crouching to retrieve his blaster which had fallen to the ground. He took a shaky breath and steeled his nerves before facing the chaos around him.

His eyes widened and he narrowly dove behind the crashed shuttle in time to evade the laser fire that Omega rained down from above. She'd successfully hijacked the Rho class shuttle—and he couldn't help but feel a small seed of bitterness at how much better she was faring—which meant it was time to high-tail it out of there.

He lifted his knees, tossing his blaster to the ground as he realized that he'd need every advantage he could muster as he sprinted toward the ramp that Omega was in the process of lowering. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tight as if he expected to be shot down any second. The enemy fire did come, but Omega provided cover just as quickly. He took the lift up to the cockpit, briefly opening the visor just long enough to dump the pilot—which took much longer and more effort than he cared to admit. He then slid into the pilot's seat, frowning as he was forced to kneel in order to reach the flightstick. He took another breath then guided the Rho class shuttle toward the atmosphere as the screech of TIE fighters streaked toward them in pursuit.

A few rounds were fired—colliding with the engine to create damage which would become a larger problem later down the line; however, the fighters fell back. Either they'd been called off or something much worse waited for them out in the expanse of space... Crosshair didn't treasure the thought of either. He didn't waste time thinking about those options though, the second they were clear he punched the shuttle into hyperdrive then collapsed back in the chair and finally allowed the fatigue to overcome him.

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𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞| Most of this fic will follow the timeline of season three; however, there will be variations from time to time which impact the plot. I've already got a few chapters written which will likely be posted later today and tomorrow. It is to be noted that this fic has no ties or connections to my other Star Wars universes. It is a completely separate universe that I may eventually build on.

I've been reading quite a few deaged clone fics recently and was inspired to throw my own twist on the trope. This story is cross-posted on ao3; however, this version will likely receive visuals and drawings that the other version does not, simply because it's easier to upload them here. I'm trying something a bit different with this story as any original characters introduced will not be the focal point of the story. Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts!