Dependence

Shaak Ti's office is a haven amidst the cold impersonality of Tipoca City. The lights are dimmed from the near-painful white in the hallways; the walls hold artful, colourful tapestries; a diffuser sends a pleasant, warm scent through the room, so much sweeter than permeating chemical disinfectant. The effect is calming on any who come to speak with her, even Alpha-17, who stands a little less rigidly than usual on the other side of the Jedi general's desk.

Shaak Ti herself paces, hands clasped behind her back thoughtfully.

"They are more than just close," Alpha-17 finishes his report. "They're dependent on each other."

"From what I have observed," Shaak-Ti replies, "they balance each other out. This makes them strong."

"But it can also be a weakness," Alpha-17 counters.

Shaak Ti inclines her head, conceding.

"I've seen it happen before," Alpha-17 continues, a shadow passing over his face. "If one of them dies, the other doesn't last much longer."

"What would you recommend?" Shaak-Ti asks, pausing in her pacing and meeting his eyes.

Alpha-17 inhales before delivering his opinion. "They should be separated. Boba should be folded into the Coruscant Guard as General Windu suggested, but Diaro should be resettled on his homeworld."

A slight frown tugs at Shaak Ti's face. "Do you believe Diaro is unfit for serving the Coruscant Guard?"

Alpha-17 sighs. "He hasn't proven himself yet. For the most part, he follows Boba along passively. They're a good team, I'll admit, and Diaro has shown impressive determination, but he has yet to take the last step to show that he can be strong on his own."

"I see. You believe he still has a chance, then."

Alpha-17 hesitates, but admits, "Yes, sir. But the designated training course is about to end, and Diaro seems no closer to – "

Shaak Ti's comm chirps, the distinct sound marking it as an urgent message.

"Excuse me." Shaak Ti turns away and activates the comm. "Yes, Captain?"

"Sir," the Kamino Security Captain greets her, anxiety clear even over the line, "we've been informed that Generals Kenobi and Skywalker are on their way here. They have urgent news – about an impending attack on Tipoca City."

"An attack? I'll be right there." As her comm switches off, Shaak Ti looks over her shoulder at Alpha-17. "We will finish this discussion later, Captain."

Alpha-17 nods and follows the Jedi's hurried stride from the room.

---

The sudden alarm startles Boba, who reaches for his vibroblade on instinct before remembering – with a surge of irritation – he's not allowed to carry weapons.

Omega leaps to her feet, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I have to go! Nala Se says if the alarm goes off – "

"It's fine," Boba interrupts her, standing up from the bench as well. "Get to safety."

"We'll talk again soon," Omega promises. She half-reaches out, hesitantly, then pats Boba awkwardly on the shoulder. "Be safe!"

Boba stares at her as she runs away down the hallway. He hadn't expected… any of that. That he had a sister; that she was another unaltered clone; that she actually wanted to get to know him; or that he didn't mind any of it.

The alarm continues blaring.

What the kriff is going on? he wonders as he sprints down the opposite hallway. He and Omega had snuck away to a less busy area to talk in peace, but now he was regretting it. I have to find Dia.

He skids to a stop in the barracks hallway, with a huddle of cadets glancing around nervously. Boba grabs the shoulder of the nearest one.

"What's happening?" he demands.

The cadet shakes his head wordlessly, eyes wide.

"Cadets!" a voice barks – the supervisor, striding down the hallway towards them. "Form up!"

The cadets fall into formation reflexively, but Boba doesn't have time for this.

"Are we under attack?" he demands, stepping up towards the supervisor.

The older clone glares at him. "Fall into line, cadet."

Boba glares right back, unmoving.

"Boba," a voice hisses at his shoulder.

A hand closes over his wrist and tugs him backwards. Tension dropping from his shoulders, Boba lets himself be dragged to the end of one line of cadets with a parting glare at the supervisor. Only then does he look over at Dia, standing the next line over. He looks fine, if nervous.

"You alright?" Dia asks.

Boba nods, and turns his attention back to the supervisor.

"Cadets, we have been informed that the Separatists are preparing for an imminent attack on Tipoca City. Silence," he adds, harsh, as the cadets start to whisper fearfully. "You will remain in the barracks, where you will be secure."

"Sir?" one cadet speaks up. "What if the Separatists breach the barracks?"

The supervisor's expression tightens. "Then you will have your chance to prove your loyalty to the Republic."

---

Boba kneels behind an overturned table, breathing heavily. The lights have switched to red, giving an uncanny glow to Dia's eyes as he glances upwards nervously.

The floor rumbles beneath them with another distant explosion, and Boba curses under his breath. "We can't stay here – we'll be pinned down." His hands tighten over the blaster he managed to grab before he and Dia were chased into this room.

Dia, unarmed, scans the room, eyes landing on the door to the next hallway. "We don't know how far into the halls they've reached. These rooms circle around."

"Here," Boba says, shoving the blaster into Dia's hands. "Find somewhere to hide, I'll take down as many as I can."

"With what?" Dia scoffs, pushing the blaster back to Boba. "Either we both run or we both fight."

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm not the one being – "

A distant shattering crash makes them both jump, and they eye each other nervously.

With a frustrated groan, Boba spins around, searching for anything they could knock over to slow down the droids. His gaze lands on the loose cables strewn across the floor,

"Hey, you see those metal screens?" Dia says suddenly. "I bet if we pushed them together, we could make some sort of pen – you know, to trap the droids." He turns to look at Boba, eyes wide with hope.

Boba frowns. The screens have small metal holes, large enough maybe to shoot through, if one were close to it. He recalls something from his time in the Dune Sea.

"The Tuskens sometimes chased prey into these walled pens," he says slowly, "and killed them when they were trapped. We could do something similar, except – "

"Instead of chasing, we'll be luring them," Dia finishes the sentence.

"That could work," Boba agrees, surprised.

"But we couldn't move everything or kill them all, not by ourselves. We'd need – "

Footsteps thunder down the hallway, and the door swings open with a terrible crash.

Startled, Dia drops to the ground behind a crate. Boba has his blaster up and trained on the intruders before they step inside, but soon lowers it with an eye-roll.

Dia peers over the crate, relaxing slightly when he realizes they're just cadets. 

"Oh, great," one cadet sneers, lowering his own blaster. "Just what we need."

Dia stands, recognizing him with a wince – Jax, who's held a grudge since a disastrous training simulation.

"Come on, Jax," another cadet pleads. "We can help each other."

"He's right," Dia says, stepping closer and holding out a hand. "I'm sorry for what happened during training – "

The clone cadet smacks Dia's hand away. "You let me get shot!"

"I didn't mean to." Dia steps backwards. "Really. I just – "

"Just sacrificed the rest of us to protect precious Boba," the cadet spits, glaring at Boba over Dia's shoulder. "You're no better than us!"

"I am better," Boba declares, his stance easy but his eyes burning. "It was your own carelessness that got you shot."

"Huh?!"

"Listen to me," Dia says sharply. "We're in danger. We need to work together, and stay alive until the Separatists are driven back."

Boba and Jax glare at each other for another moment, before Jax looks away. "Tsk."

Dia relaxes slightly – it's a start. "We have a plan," he tells the cadets, "but we'll need your help."

---

Minutes later, the door crashes open again.

A dozen cadets crouch, hidden, across the room, behind crates, on top of shelves, hardly daring to breathe.

Half as many droids step into the room. Their heads swivel, blasters raised and ready to fire.

When they're past the marker, Dia shoots to his feet. "Come and get me, clankers!"

He takes off, sprinting towards the sectioned-off end of the room.

"Get him!" a droid squeaks.

The droids run after Dia, firing. Blasts ricochet off obstacles and narrowly miss Dia as he weaves and dives, keeping the droids just close enough.

He reaches the metal sheets, hopping over the cord. The droids are on his heels, but find themselves tripping over the suddenly-taught cord.

With startled cries, the droids trip over each other, tumbling into the trap. Dia reaches the far wall and scrambles up, catching Boba's hand and hoisting himself up into the vents.

"NOW!" Dia shouts, twisting to look over his shoulder.

The third metal sheet slides into place, cutting off the droids. Blaster shots illuminate the dazed droids.

Before any of them can react enough to even stand up, they're beyond repair, blaster holes scorched through their processors and wires sparking.

The blaster shots die out into tense silence.

"Did we do it?" Jax asks.

Dia and Boba peer down from the vents. None of the droids so much as twitch.

"We did it," Dia sighs in relief.

"But the fight's not over," Boba reminds them, as distant blaster-fire starts up again. "Take the droids' blasters – we'll hold this room."

The clones jump to action. Even Jax doesn't argue.

"You know," Dia remarks quietly, nudging Boba with his shoulder, "you're actually pretty good at ordering people around. You'd make a good commander."

Boba rolls his eyes and punches Dia's shoulder, no force behind it. "Let's go."