The Clone Assassin: A Star Wars Story

Birth of the Impossible

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . .

On the stormy, ocean world of Kamino, home of the cloning facility that produced soldiers for the Republic, the latest batch of cadets was extracted from their pods. The transparisteel casings were summoned from their docks, floating steadily up the tubes that lead to the nursery. Robotic arms then carefully opened and emptied the pods of fluids and life. One hundred infants wailed within hovering, transparent cradles. One hundred clones, one hundred future soldiers. Just as their creators had planned.

The cloners, indigenous to this world, were a tall, slender-bodied race with alabaster skin, large, dark eyes and flat slits for nostrils. Their clothing was simple yet elegant, perfectly sculpted to suit their forms. Their speech was gentle and they moved with regal grace. Two of them, currently, were overseeing the nursery: a bright, white room with a window along one wall opposite a computer system. Their slender fingers tapped and swiped at holographic displays above and around the cradles. These displays were of the health and status of each infant clone. Most the Kaminoans found satisfactory. Only one, however, was not.

The Kaminoan studying the unusual display frowned. "This can't be right," he muttered, his gaze shifting between the program and its infant. "The genetics of this one have been altered."

His companion turned, frowning as well. "That's impossible. What is its number?"

The first cloner found the infant's pod number, and the second moved to the computer and began typing, searching for the status of the pod. The screen soon portrayed the pod in question, detailing its status and function history. The findings were unpleasant.

"There was a minor malfunction just before the zygotic stage," the second cloner announced. "It seems unlikely that that would alter the genetic programming."

The first Kaminoan tapped the display above the infant again. "Growth acceleration, durability and obedience are normal. Its vitals are healthy and functioning." He tapped the display again and found the abnormality. "Only one genetic sequence was affected."

The other came over to read the display, her frown changing from confusion to disgust. "I will inform the Prime Minister of the anomaly. We can't allow a repeat of this mistake." 

"And the clone? Shall we dispose of it?"

"Of course," the female Kaminoan stated briskly. "It's defective." 

The male Kaminoan removed the infant's cradle from the line and pushed it into the hall.

Hearing the cloners' conversation from the other side of the window, 99 was appalled. Shriveled and hunchbacked from accelerated aging, he served as a maintenance worker in the cloning facility. He knew every corridor, every room, even the names of all other clones. And though he himself had never been treated fairly by his brethren or his creators, given that he'd failed his combat training, the oldest living clone had never seen the Kaminoans cast aside an infant cadet at birth. Nor could he believe how casual they were about it.

As the male cloner entered the hall with the cradled infant before him, 99 immediately returned to his work, trying to appear as though he hadn't heard nor seen anything that had just occurred in the nursery. The cloner saw him briefly but suspected nothing, it seemed, as he continued down the hall with the child. Remaining as inconspicuous as possible, 99 followed. 

The old clone had heard and seen everything. He knew why the Kaminoans had called the baby "defective." And as a defective clone himself, he had a hunch about what they'd meant by "disposal." Thus, as a fellow defective clone, he couldn't allow them to do it.