BAD BATCH: CX RESCUE

Viz Begins Her Work

A few hours later, an assistant researcher brought me the gray science fatigues and goggles. Part of me wanted to playfully put the goggles on CX-2, but the rest of me knew that it wouldn't be the same and no good could come of it. So, I shed my jumpsuit, armor and Jedi robe and put on the tunic and slacks.
I didn't need a mirror to know exactly what I looked like, and I hated how I looked. I was...colorless. Another cog in the wheel. A disposable piece with no personality. A pawn.
Why in blazes had I allowed myself to do this? I was supposed to be a Jedi, I was supposed to be a symbol for justice and compassion. Yet now I was just another tool in the Imperial box.
I took a deep breath, reminding myself of the real reason; I could save Tech. I just had to play along until I could get him and everyone else home. It was just a charade.
Wasn't it?
CX-2 picked up his helmet and headed to the turbo lift.
"Where are you going?" I whimpered, panicked.
"Up a level," he replied gently. "They expect me on the training grounds."
My hands began to shake as I rubbed them together. "When will you be back?"
"Within the hour," he promised. "Someone will come to help you get set up."
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Too many thoughts crowded my brain so that I couldn't pick the right words to say.
Tech didn't need me to pick them. "I will not leave you," he said. "If you need me, I am just a level away."
Instantly, the majority of my trepidation melted away, and I smiled and nodded. I was still rubbing my hands, but I also knew he was telling the truth.
Tech placed his helmet on his head, and CX-2 told me, "I will return shortly."
"See you," I replied, forcing a happy tone as he stepped into the lift. The door shut, separating us indefinitely.
I hugged myself, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. I was cold, but it was more nerves than temperature. I looked around my confinement, wondering how long I'd be trapped in this room.
Apparently, not long. I hadn't been alone five minutes before another assistant researcher walked in. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun, and her lips were pressed into a thin line.
"You are the new researcher officer, Avizra Charis?" she asked emotionless.
I decided not to make a joke this one time. "I am."
"Follow me," she sighed. "The Doctor has a facility prepared for you."
I began to walk after her, but she raised her eyebrows at me. Instantly, I remembered the goggles I hadn't put on yet. Snatching them up, I slipped them over my head, wincing as they touched the bridge of my nose. How many times I had teased Tech and put his goggles on...now, the once-comforting weight around my head felt like a constricting blindfold. I didn't like how the tint made everything red. I didn't like the lines that segmented my vision. I liked color, and I liked a clear picture. And I knew I may never get them again.
I followed the woman out of the medical room. She took me through another maze of identical hallways, but I figured I could find my way back if I tried. Soon enough, she stopped outside a door and opened it with her datapad.
"This is yours," she told me. "Expect your first specimen within the hour."
"Thank you," I said instinctively, when I genuinely meant, "Kriff you."
She handed me the datapad. "This is a limited-access datapad. It has all the information you will require, and no more."
I said nothing as I snagged the datapad and entered the room. It was two rooms, actually; joined together by a clear wall and a heavy-looking door. I figured that it was a one-way glass: people could look out, but on the other side, they couldn't look in.
I jolted slightly as the door slammed shut behind me. The woman hadn't said when she'd be back for me. Would she be back for me? Probably. Maybe. I walked forward, examining all the tools on the counter lining the wall. I couldn't tell what most of them were, but there were several syringes.
I adjusted my goggles—like Tech used to do—and began to inspect the datapad. To my surprise, it contained several files that were straight from the Jedi Archives, all about healing techniques of the Force. I smiled sadly as I read some of the familiar passages. Master Rig had taught me so much about the old Jedi and how powerful they had been. Over the years, the Jedi had slowly faded out these healing practices because they believed that such power was too great for any one Jedi, and to practice them would go against the will of the Force. Bantha fodder is what I called it. I could have saved hundreds of lives of the battlefield if I had known some of these techniques.
I didn't know how long I spent reading over the old texts, but suddenly I faintly heard a door open. I looked up to see that a clone had been shoved into the adjacent room by some TK troopers. The clones looked in rough shape as he fell to his knees and the TKs walked out.
I ran to the door that separated us and inserted my datapad into its slot. After I keyed a combination that I had read in the file labeled "Instruction Manual," the door slid open, and I rushed inside.
"Are you alright, trooper?" I asked, bending down and helping him sit upright.
"What do you care?" he muttered bitterly.
I chewed my lip. Right. I was one of the bad guys.
With a sigh, I slipped my goggles off, feeling a weight lift with them. "What's your name?" I asked him.
He glanced tiredly at me, his eyes dull. "CT—"
"Your name?" I repeated with a smile.
His eyes seemed to lighten for a second. "Vik," he replied, his voice stronger.
"Vik," I smiled. "I know you won't trust me, but I'm here to help you, Vik."
Vik sighed. "I doubt that..."
"I want to ease your pain," I told him. "Help you not feel so alone. Hemlock uses pain to get results; I want to stop him."
Vik shook his head tiredly. "How can I trust what you say? You're with the Empire."
I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Okay, well, that's true, I suppose." I fought back the urge to begin rambling my defense. "But I want to make things better, not worse."
Vik looked me in the eye. "How?" he demanded, his eyes pleading.
"I-"
I broke off as a movement caught my eye. A security camera was watching us, semi-hidden in the ceiling corner. I clamped my mouth shut. Just another reminder that I was a prisoner just like Vik.
"I don't know just yet," I finally replied. "Maybe we can figure it out together."
Vik shook his head despairingly. "Why bother?"
I felt a lump form in my throat, but I forced it down. "Here, give me your hands," I invited, holding my hands out, palm-up.
Vik eyed me suspiciously, but apparently didn't feel like opposing me. He laid his hands in mind.
"Take a deep breath," I instructed, forcing cheerfulness, "and clear your mind."
"What for?" Vik demanded.
"This is a Jedi technique," I told him. "It'll help you heal in mind and spirit."
Vik's eyes narrowed. "A Jedi technique? What's this about?"
I couldn't bring myself to lie to him, but if I told him the truth...wouldn't it make it more painful for everyone involved? "Hemlock won't win if he can't dominate your minds," I told Vik. "If we keep it strong, then maybe we still have a fighting chance?" I left it as a question because I wanted Vik to agree to this. I had flung all my principles out the door when I agreed to this experiment, and yet I still wanted to believe I had a shred of morality left.
Vik just shook his head and took his deep breath.
Guilt gnawing at my mind, I did the same and reached out to the Force.
I slowly touched Vik's mind. Touching someone's mind was something I was good at—in fact the Jedi Council would bring me in to pull information from prisoners from time to time. Each mind was a challenge to enter, like a puzzle to be unlocked. Vik's, bless his heart, was no puzzle; it had already been beaten down by exhaustion and torture, and it held no defense against my probes. Before I knew it, I was feeling his memories. It was like they were my memories now; I knew the context behind every joke, the friendship and story behind every death, and the fear and terror of the most recent memories. Vik used to be a wonderful man: strong, courageous and a little overconfident in his abilities. He had been an ARC trooper. I saw countless battles, and countless laughs. But the deaths of those close to him...those were numbered. And they hurt. I could feel how they hurt him so much...
There was a young trooper. Hanger was his name. Vik promised he'd take care of him, yet an ill-timed tank explosion cut that promise short. I knew the guilt Vik had felt, watching that young trooper flying through the air, ablaze. Vik couldn't help but think of that promise...
But what if that promise went away? What if I told Vik that he had never made that promise—would he believe me? Would he find...peace?
I decided to take that risk. I went back to the memory of that promise.
"Eh, don't worry, Hanger. I'll watch after you."
"Oh, thank you, sir. I can take care of myself, though."
"Yeah, sure you can, rookie. Just stick by me, alright?"
"Alright, sir."
I replayed the scene over and over until I imagined it differently, and placed this re-imagined vision in Vik's mind.
"Eh, don't worry, Hanger."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can, rookie."
"See ya later, sir."
I replayed the new scene over and over until the old one began to fade away. Once that had been accomplished, I began to "remember" in Vik's head the moment Hanger had died. After a few rewatches, I changed the scene again in my own mind; Hanger had in fact dodged the explosion, and survived the battle to join another division and never be seen by Vik again. This was a stretched, but I had to try. I planted that imagine in Vik's head, and replayed it over and over until he accepted it as reality.
Finally, I broke the mind-meld. I gasped, exhausted, slumping forward, but a pair of hands caught me.
"Easy, there," Vik said, his voice lighter. "You alright?"
"Fine," I panted, not daring to look him in the eye.
But I did, and I was shocked to see that a tiny bit of a spark had been restored to his brown eyes.
"What was all that about?" Vik asked.
I shrugged. "Do you feel better?" I asked, dodging the question.
"Strangely, yes," Vik said tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That Jedi stuff really works. I feel like I'm forgetting something, though."
"I couldn't imagine what," I lied. "Well, Vik, this concludes our session."
I took up my datapad and hit the call for the troopers. The TKs entered immediately, and Vik rose to his feet.
"Be seeing you, then," he mumbled to me as the TKs gripped his arms and led him away. The door shut behind them, leaving me alone.
I sat in the middle of the floor, sucking in deep, ragged breaths. What had I just done? Had I completely rewrote a memory? That shouldn't have been possible, and yet...what in blazes had I done?
I curled my legs to my chest and began rocking back and forth, my mind a prison that bombarded me with guilt and hatred. I had no right to change his memories. I shouldn't even be here working for Hemlock. Why was I so selfish? Why couldn't I just let go of Tech and actually help these clones? Wasn't Tech dead anyways? CX-2 was all that remained.
No. No, Tech was still alive. It wasn't just my mind living in a fantasy, he was alive. I had seen him.
I wiped away the tears that had drenched my cheeks. I was going down a terrible path, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. True, I had just changed Vik's memories, and that change would impact the lessons he had learned from that memory. Ultimately, it could change many of his views on life. That was my fault.
But if I could change memories, I could also bring Tech's memories back. And once I had done that, we could help everyone escape.