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There is a rule among the clones of Experimental Unit 99. One that should not be broken, a line better left uncrossed. The rule is simple and consists of only four words: “ Don’t touch Tech’s stuff.”
Wrecker! Did you move Tech’s datapad?!
What- no! I- I mean I don’t really remember… Maybe I did?
Tech, breathe. You’ve got to calm down. It’s ok, we’ll find it, he didn’t mean to move it.
The Kaminoians teach that rules are put into place for a reason, and while the batch of young 99’s often defer from their rules, this is one they all firmly adhere to. They all follow it out of respect for their brother. Sharing isn’t the issue here, Tech would be more than happy to lend one of his few belongings to one of his brothers, it’s the order and personal space he minds. Well, that among… other things.
Well then help me look for it, di’kut!
Ah- um. A- alright, I will. I’m sorry. It’s gonna’ be ok, Tech. I’ll fix it, I promise-
Guys! Just… just calm down. Ittle’ help him feel better. He’s too overstimulated with all your yelling, even if you’re just trying to help.
Tech is a creature of habit. He wakes constantly each morning and falls asleep erratically every night. He eats the same cereal for breakfast and only the blue packaged ration bar in the evenings. He knows that his life as a soldier will fluctuate greatly, but he vainly tries to keep consistency where he can. The placement of his datapad is no different. It always sits on the far left, at the very foot of his bunk. It was not there when he came back from Nala Se’ this evening. His order was interrupted, however slightly, and now everything is wrong, upended, the final straw.
He’d been running on empty for a while now.
… I’ll look over here.
Y-yeah. I probably left it on a table somewhere.
Good, it’s alright, vod’ika. I know, just let it out. You’re safe here with us.
His thoughts and emotions are oftentimes too loud for his smaller than average build, at least in clone standards for children around ten years of age. Voicing those thoughts and emotions is even more difficult, especially when his exceptional mind betrays him.
Nothing on the table. Where the kriff did you put it, Wrecker?
I dunno, Cross. I- I just forgot, you know? I really didn’t mean it.
Hey- no. Please, don’t hit yourself too hard. It’s frustrating, I know but- oh. You can’t… can you not talk right now?
To go non-speaking is among one of his worst fears. It lies totally out of his control. He relies on his voice to relay information in a timely manner. If Tech is not chattering on and on over his current project or topic of interest, it is best to assume the worst. It’s no secret that he’s the most talkative out of the bunch, he uses his words to bridge gaps and create barriers, to fix problems and soothe his racing mind. To be without his voice and carefully chosen words leaves him floating adrift, unable to connect to his brothers and himself. This forces him to rely on other stimulants, such as rocking back and forth rhythmically or hitting himself, but oftentimes these actions leave him embarrassed and ashamed over needing such comforts to begin with. Comforts that the regs, and more importantly, his brothers don’t seem to need. Overtime, he’s learned that his brothers will never judge or try to change this part of him like the long-necks and regs do, but he finds it… difficult… to be this expressive.
Hey, hey- I know. Can you look at me, Tech? Repeat me.
Aw man . You guys know I can't read hand signals!
It’s not exactly hand signals, Wreck. It’s sign language. Here, I’ll help you look for the datapad. If I focus, I think I’ll be able to feel it…
It did serve them well as a team to know alternate ways to communicate. After the first non-verbal meltdown Tech had experienced, they all, save for Wrecker, had learned at least the basics in sign language under the patient tutelage of their ori’vod, Ninety-nine. Hunter also benefited from this arrangement, as his hyper-sensitivity made even the slightest noise cause for a throbbing migraine on his bad days.
Great job, Techie. Can you tell me what you- oh, alright. Yeah, I can hold your hand.
Any progress, Hunt?
Shh, almost. I- wait- I think it’s in your bunk, Wrecker.
Tech knew he could always rely on his brothers. Unlike the taunting jibes and outright cruel comments of the regs and the cold, calculating Kaminoians, his brothers were gentle in their words and actions when one of them was suffering. They all knew each other's emotional tells better than their own.
But I already checked there- Oh, Lula has it!
Sush!
Oh, right! Sorry again, Tech. Here you go. I’ll be more careful next time. I was playing with her while you were gone and thought she would want to watch one of your scienc-ey holos.
‘She’ can’t watch a holo. It’s a stuffed tooka.
Says you!
Now with it returned, Tech held his datapad close to his chest, flexing his hands around the cold metal plating as he continued his rhythmic rocking. He wanted to thank them, his brothers, to let them know that he wasn’t mad at them, only that he had a rough day of testing today and that he’s glad that they are here with him, safe. However as he lifted his shaky hand to sign, those sentiments did not come through how he intended, only a clunky, half-witted version of what he wanted to convey.
Thank you. I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry…
Don’t mention it, Tech’ika.
Yeah, it’s my fault. I forgot about the rule, but it won’t happen again because I’m gonna remember.
Hmph.
Hey, what’s that supposed to mean, Cross? I will! You watch me!
Alright you two, cut it out. Ok Tech, you wanna sit on your bunk, or stay here on the floor. Up to you.
Seeing that his signing wasn’t getting the job done efficiently either, Tech moved a hand away from his datapad to pat the floor in an awkward, jerky motion to convey his wishes. He didn’t have the strength to care about how undignified he might currently appear.
Floor it is then.
I’ll get the blankets!
Don’t grab the gray one. He hates that texture.
I remember, thank you very much… Bet I can get more blankets and pillows before you.
Hmph. You’re on.
Their fierce individuality guided him, strengthened him. With Hunter, it manifested in his sure guidance and unyielding protection. For Wrecker, always plowing ahead and never losing his stride despite everything. The scarcity of Crosshair's gentle presence and understanding that hid behind his snide dementor made it all the more treasured. Each one of them picked up the slack wherever they were lacking, emotionally and physically and… he was deathly afraid of losing them. He could not. Would not. He would rather die first himself than live without them.
They're crazy, aren’t they? But they're our kind of crazy, huh?
It’s rude to call people names, Hunter.
You called me an ‘idiot’ earlier, Cross! I’m gettn’ you back for that, jus’ so you know.
I’d like to see you try it.
The mere presence of his brothers was a balm to Tech’s soul, as the simplicity of watching them act like themselves, away from the labs and tests, helped him in ways they’d never understand.
Blanketed in fondness and security, he finally started to relax. This gave him the opportunity to reflect on everything that had happened in the lab today, the main contributor to his meltdown.
He recalled that as he was in for testing, he overheard the Kamanoians speaking of one of their other ‘projects’ . There he heard Nala Se’ wispy, unnerving voice talking about one of his brothers. Of his younger brother, his twin. Crosshair.
He had been out cold from anesthesia, but he had been floating in that strange limbo of sleep and awareness and most importantly not discovered by his observers. As he was lying still on the cold examination table, too afraid to even breathe, he discovered from the scientist's conversation that, in their opinion, Crosshair is lacking. She said ‘his eyesight is not calibrated enough, more tests must be done’. Then another agreed, ‘He is too skinny, too frail to be a component soldier’.
They even spoke of decommissioning .
The walk back to their barracks from the lab had apparently been forgotten to Tech, seeing as he can’t remember walking the sterile white halls from point A to point B. His body ran on autopilot as he thought of all his possible solutions and each disastrous conclusion. When he eventually made it back to his bunk, not even recalling how he got into the room, his data pad was missing. He was going to use that to- to do what he didn’t know, couldn’t remember… something to do with saving his little brother, but other than that he just didn’t know.
And that’s when he spiraled.
He wanted to scream over the unfairness, to cry, to run his fist through the wall and shatter the fragile bones in his hand, but he could not. He was trapped in his own mind, recycling all the awful thoughts that popped into his head, one after another.
He’ll die if you don’t fix this. Figure it out. You’ll be next. You’re not strong like the others, either- he shouldn’t think like that- They won’t miss him. You’ll probably forget him too- he would never- You’re just selfish. Always only concerned for yourself.
You don’t even realize when he’s not around- that… that’s not true- If you can’t solve this, who can? He’s going to die. He's going to die he’s going to… Crosshair is going to die.
Before he could realize what was happening he was on the ground, slumped in front of his bunk and sobbing wretchedly as he clawed his blunt nails into Hunter’s back, his ori’vod not faltering as he held Tech’s shaking frame tightly. When did Hunter get here…?
All this led them to the search party and blanket gathering for the impromptu cuddle pile that was apparently taking place over what his brothers thought was a meltdown over a missing data pad. Tech felt his neck flush from embarrassment. How trivial.
Eventually, he would have to inform Hunter of his findings, but seeing as how he can’t even speak a word right now, that would have to wait. It was unlikely and illogical to think that the Kaminoians would decommission Crosshair before they ran more tests, but that only sated his anxiety slightly. For now, Tech knew his brother was safe. All of them were safe. He had time to work on a plan if the worst case scenario happened. He was working only on ‘ if’s’ right now. He refused to think of a ‘ when’ .
Speaking of safe, Crosshair was currently laying out blankets with his nonchalant precision while Wrecker wrestled pillows into place. Hunter had resumed his position at Tech’s side.
After a few more adjustments and one more playful argument between Wrecker and Crosshair over who won their little competition, their floor nest was complete.
Hunter stood, dusting his uniform of imaginary dust before he offered an easy hand for Tech to take. As his tears slowed and began to dry on his overheated cheeks, Tech took a slow, shaky breath, then he met Hunter’s hand halfway. Before they went, he deposited his data pad on its rightful place on the end of his bunk, now content to allow Hunter to guide him along.
Come on, Tech’ika. Let’s go see if they did it right. Feel free to move whatever you’d like, they won’t give you shit for it… well, of course maybe Cross will. But that’s just his way of saying ‘I love you’. You know that, though.
Hunter’s rambling was surprising, but not unwelcome. In fact, Tech took a greedy advantage to his body’s current tolerance for physical contact and leaned more into his older brother's arm as they walked. Normally, he found having someone touch him felt, for lack of a better word, repulsive.
From his place at his side, he heard Hunter huff a laugh as he squeezed his hand reassuringly.
You know, you’ll probably be taller than me one day. The long-necks keep saying I’m gonna’ be on the shorter side. Lucky me, huh?
That brought a small smile to Tech’s stony countenance, making Hunter smile as well.
Their slow pace finally brought them to the edge of the nest of blankets heaped in the center of their bunkroom. Within the pillowy pile a smiley Wrecker had found him and Lula a spot in the middle, his large arms and legs spread out to take up as much space as possible. Crosshair, on the other hand, was making himself as small as possible, curled up on a small stack of extra pillows at the far edge of the nest and looking especially miffed towards Wreckers direction. Well, at least Tech knew who had won the competition.
A little gentle prodding from Hunter was all it took to get Tech to step into the ring of pillows and blankets. He glanced around at it, finding that everything was to his liking. Having nothing to change, he dropped down into the softness and found a snug place at Wreckers side. The large clone responded in turn by wrapping his arm around his shoulders protectively, pulling him in as close as he could go. Hunter did the same on Wreckers' other side, sighing in content to finally be lying down.
Tech deduced that everything was perfect. Well, nearly perfect. The lights had shifted into night hours, dimly illuminating the room enough to still make out shapes, but only just. The blankets were as soft as standard issue Tipoka City bedding essentials as one could get, and the weight and warmth provided by his second oldest brother nearly lulled him to sleep. Only one thing was missing- or rather one person .
Lifting his groggy head, Tech squinted minutely to search for Crosshair’s huddled form. Unable to find him, he was just about to use his re-emerging voice to call out his name, but stopped himself when he heard the rustling sounds of movement. Crosshair stood, dragging a blanket behind him as he made his way over to Tech. His eyes glinted unnaturally in the dark- unnatural to those who weren’t his brothers, that is- and wordlessly plopped himself down beside his twin.
He settled into Tech’s side, sighing contentedly as he got comfortable using his arm as a pillow.
I saw you looking for me.
Tech hummed in agreement. Crosshair huddled closer, lifting his blanket to include Tech under its warmth. Everything was calm. The familiar ambient sounds of recycled air and the pittering of rain on the transparisteel window relaxed Tech’s overworked mind even further. He found he was happy. That’s what this feeling was called. He sighed, letting out the last bit of tension as he all but melted into the blankets.
But before he allowed sleep to claim him, he wanted one more thing. Ignoring the intrusive thought that echoed greedy in his mind, he reached down to find Crosshair’s slender hand. His brother responded instantly, clasping their hands together, effectively banishing the final bit of insecurity from Tech’s mind. Crosshair's hand was cold, but they always were and the feeling grounded him to reality as he allowed the rest of him to finally, finally relax.
The only thing on his mind now was the rain, brothers, and rest.