Crosshair-Ghosts of Tantiss

LENIENCY

He's not sure how long it is before the light finally switches off. It could have been minutes, though it was probably hours, as he's lost count of the times he's mentally counted to 60.

He breathes a sigh of relief as the pain finally eases, but the lingering burn remains. He stands up straight, his entire body aching from the physical abuse earlier. He opens his eyes slightly, but they feel dry and achy. He groans and rubs at them, wishing more than anything for his old eye drops from the Imperial medbay.

He decides to try to ignore it. And as he does, his stomach rumbles and he realizes it's been a while since yesterday's meal. And it sounds like his snark earned another zero-meal day...

Unfortunately, he's used to it.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps approaching. He flinches slightly, steeling himself for whatever's about to happen. The door opens, letting a crack of light inside, and a peek at the outside world. His vision is blurry for a while and he squints his eyes as he tries to adjust, but it still burns.

Finally, his eyes register that this is another clone commando.

"CT-9904. Hemlock will see you now."

Crosshair reluctantly steps out in front of the commando, who escorts him down the hall, past the elevator he'd entered on.

Wait. The elevator was that way.

He gets a sinking feeling in his stomach.

The two soon arrive at another door, one guarded by more ray shielding. The commando deactivates it and then urges Crosshair inside.

This hallway is well-lit, stretching with several sets of doors. Crosshair glances at them as he walks by, but he can't see anything through them. Instead, the commando escorts him inside the door at the very end of the hall. And on the other side of the room, sits Hemlock. He rises as the two enter the room.

"CT-9904, is it?"

Crosshair stares at the man, gritting his teeth.

"I'll take that... as a yes." Hemlock meanders towards them, quietly tugging on the glove over his left hand. The man has an unnerving calmness as he speaks, his voice quiet.

"I am told that you have been... misbehaving. Which is rather unfortunate. I had high hopes for you as one of my finest recruits."

"...Recruit?" Crosshair sneers with a scoff.

The commando starts to step forward slightly, but Hemlock waves him off. Crosshair notices.

"Yes, recruit." Hemlocks eyes don't leave Crosshair's for an uncomfortably long moment. Taunting him.

Crosshair clenches his jaw and glances away first. "...For what?"

"Anything is certainly a more attractive option than being a prisoner. Don't you agree?"

Crosshair looks back at Hemlock, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Not interested."

Hemlock shakes his head. "Do refrain from making a judgement until you see what I have to offer. Please, sit down."

Crosshair feels another shove to his back, towards a chair. He glares over his shoulder towards the commando and then reluctantly seats himself. Hemlock then swivels his chair and presses a button. The privacy screens disappear from the windows encircling the room and suddenly, Crosshair gets a clear view of a training floor below.

It's got a well-stocked artillery wall. There's a shooting range and a hand-to-hand combat area. There's also a small living area with ration packs, medkits, running water, and a refresher.

Eye drops. There has to be eye drops in those medkits.

Crosshair takes in every detail of the accommodations, staring almost longingly at them. It's been so long since he had such autonomy. But it's almost too good to be true.

He looks back at Hemlock, eyebrows drawn together. "What aren't you telling me?"

Hemlock chuckles quietly, glancing down. "Of course. These accommodations will be your compensation for some... minor... services that you will provide."

"For the Empire." Crosshair's judgmental stare doesn't waver. "Still not interested."

Hemlock looks at him, drawing a breath. The clone's resistance is testing his patience. "Perhaps you misunderstand me."

Crosshair raises an eyebrow.

Hemlock leans closer. "I'm not asking you to join this program. You are already a recruit. The longer you resist, the more you miss out on. Why suffer?"

Crosshair huffs, shaking his head. Hemlock doesn't relent.

"You will spend the rest of your days on Tantiss."

He pauses, letting that implication sink in.

"Your life could be short and miserable. Or, you could live a long, happy life, fighting for something you believe in."

Crosshair gives Hemlock an icy stare. "I don't believe in your Empire."

Hemlock draws a long breath, then exhales it, giving a nod, as if he's coming to terms with the clone's resistance. He meets Crosshair's glare. "Then you are a failure. And you will be dealt with as such."

Hemlock holds his glare for a moment, then turns on his heel and gestures at the commando. "Take him back to the light room. Four hours this time."

—

At least he knows how long the burning light will last before he's finally afforded some reprieve.

He doesn't know if that knowledge makes it any better.