Burdens

It was late at night, and the room that the surviving members of Delta Squad all shared was pitch black. It was also silent and devoid of all of the sounds that it would have contained if any of the squad had actually been sleeping. There were no rustlings as any of them shifted in their sleep, no steady snores, and no incoherent mumbling from talkative dreamers. The silence lay heavily over Scorch like a stifling blanket, and he stared numbly at the ceiling, hoping to bore himself to sleep and doing his best to block out any and all memories of Sev that rose in his mind. His conversation with Vau had done a marvelous job of stopping Sev from haunting him in the daylight, but Scorch still had to confront insomnia at night. Oh, well, he told himself now as he did every night, that it was better insomnia than nightmares. With nightmares, there would have been the chance that he might wake up screaming, and former commandos weren't crybabies unless they happened to be members of Omega Squad.

"Fixer, Scorch, are either of you two awake?" Boss's voice was only a whisper, but it managed to pierce through the silence like an exploding grenade from the bunk below Scorch.

"I'm awake, sir," Fixer answered in a hushed tone from the lower bunk across from Boss's. If they had been back at HQ on Triple Zero before the battle of Kashyyk, Sev would have been lying on the bunk across from Scorch's above Fixer's. If Sev were here, Fixer would have been exploring some technological wonder or other that Sev would gladly have shot if given half an excuse, and the rest of the squad could have whispered to each other or not as the whim struck them. If Sev were here, things would have been normal, but now that Sev was gone, things could never be quite normal again.

At least nobody was sleeping in the bunk that should have been Sev's. If anyone slept there, it would be like they were trying to replace Sev, and no one could replace Sev. Scorch was grateful that not enough clones had deserted to necessitate that a clone be placed on that bunk. Scorch was also happy to think that it would be unlucky that a clone would show up here alone. On a whole, clones liked groups and were disconcerted by the idea of doing anything different from their brothers. That's why Scorch had abandoned Sev. He couldn't bear the idea of being different and not conforming with Boss and Fixer.

"How am I supposed to answer if I'm asleep?' Scorch asked.

"You could try showing some respect for your commanding officer for a change," grunted Boss. "Anyway, genius, you talk in your sleep."

"I don't, Sarge," Scorch argued.

"Liar," Boss said. "You always wake me up when you mutter things like 'Explode…inaudible m sound…order…inaudible u sound…crater.'"

"Well, I can't be expected to know what I am doing if I am asleep." Scorch shrugged cheerily.

"That's not a very good excuse, Scorch," Boss replied irritably.

"If it works, it is." Scorch grinned.

"Speaking of excuses, is there a reason you asked if we were awake, sir, or can I go back to trying to go to sleep now?" cut in Fixer, as serious as ever.

"The reason I asked if you two were awake was because I wanted to talk to you." Boss sounded hesitant, and Scorch couldn't help but frown. In all the years that he had known Boss, he could count on one hand the number of times that he had encountered an uncertain Boss. The circumstances that created an uneasy Boss were never particularly pleasant ones that beings the galaxy over would be lining up to experience. "Excuses actually provide a decent opening for what I want to talk about."

"Are you trying to be as cryptic as a Jedi now that they have all been shot?" Scorch asked, making it sound like a joke, because, as Vau had reminded him, it was his job to lighten the burdens the squad carried with his humor. If he could transform whatever horrible things happened to them into a joke, then nothing could truly harm them and they could remain sane. It was his job to boost Fixer's and Boss's morale, and Scorch, like every other clone, really wanted to do his duty. Thus, humor was really the only thing he took seriously.

"I'll be less cryptic, then, if that's what you want," answered Boss, and Scorch could picture his face settling into a taut, grim mask. "I want to talk about Kashyyyk."

"I don't." Scorch felt himself shivering even though he had felt too hot a moment before. Something was definitely wrong with the room's ventilation. In the morning, Fixer would have to mend whatever it was. "Let's not talk about that. That wasn't the high point in our careers. Let's talk about the fun we had with the Trandoshans on the Prosecutor, how we generously saved Omega's shebs when they were running out of oxygen, how we stomped out a whole terrorist cell on Triple Zero, and how we prepared the battlefield as only we can on Skuumaa. It will be much more uplifting."

"I want to talk about Kashyyyk because that was our only real failure," explained Boss, and now Scorch could envision his lips thinning. "Actually, when it comes down to it, it was my failure, and you two should know that. I made the decision to leave him, and I take full responsibility for that."

"It's more my fault than yours, sir," Fixer contradicted him. "I was the one who advised you to abandon Sev. I could have sided with Scorch, but I did not."

"I could have listened to Scorch and not you," Boss responded. "You would have gone along with whatever I decided because I am in charge."

"You two make me sound so innocent, but I'm not." Scorch emitted a laugh that contained no true amusement. "I abandoned Sev as much as either of you did. I could have fought harder, but I did not. I could have disobeyed, but I did not. I left him, too."

"The blame still rests with me, because I was in command, and I made the ultimate decision," insisted Boss.

"We can play the blame game all night, but that isn't going to make any of us feel better, since, once it's over, we're all still going to think that we are at fault for what happened," Scorch pointed out. "We should play sabaac, instead. That way one of us can win and feel good while the other two of us curse loud enough to wake the whole house."

"Maybe we're approaching this in the wrong fashion," muttered Fixer, inserting himself into the conversation once more. "Do you remember that training exercise when we were five when Vau piled us all up with backpacks so heavy even we couldn't carry them?"

"No, I try to block traumatic events like that from my very consciousness," Scorch answered after a moment's reflection.

"Well, I do. I remember how we all stumbled around for awhile and ended up falling down into the simulated mud within minutes. Vau barely needed to waste a shot on us. Then, I remember how he told us afterward that we were a bunch of di'kuts. He said we should have figured out by now that we were placed in a squad for a reason, and that reason was because we weren't meant to operate alone, but as a group. He said that if we had worked together and made a sled from the trees, we would have been able to carry the backpacks. What if we're making the same mistake now? What if this guilt isn't something we're meant to lug about on our own?"

"Maybe you're right," Boss said after a long pause in which Scorch thought that neither he nor either of his brothers breathed. "Perhaps we're meant to share the blame for what happened among the three of us. Maybe if we do that, we'll find a way to move on like Sev would have wanted us to do."

"Speaking of moving on, are you two planning on taking the antidote that Skirata is having Uthan concoct to cure our premature exit from this world?" Fixer, who seemed to be in a rare talkative mood, inquired.

"Yeah." Scorch shrugged. "I don't know what to do with myself during many afternoons, but I'll extend my lifespan, because being alive is more fun than being dead."

"I feel myself slowing down already, and I don't want to die yet," added Boss. "I think I'll take Uthan's magic medicine as well."

"With all due respect, sir, you already spend much of your days roaming around looking bored," Fixer pointed out. "What are you going to do with a suddenly elongated lifespan?"

"Maybe we can all become mercenaries," suggested Boss. "We have the skills for it, and if we wear armor, nobody has to know that we are deserters."

"We should become mercenaries," Scorch commented. "After all, we are Mandalorians when it comes down to it, and Mandalorians become bounty hunters in the same way that intestinal parasites become lawyers and businessmen."

"But if we use Skirata's cure, then it will be easier for other people to learn about it and use it to create soldiers like us who have to serve for twice as long," Fixer protested. "Is that fair to them?"

"It's hard enough being responsible for ourselves," answered Scorch. "Let's not take responsibility for what every chakaar in the galaxy does. It will only result in our biting off all our nails."

"Fixer, Skirata would use the cure with Omega and his Nulls anyway," Boss reminded him. "Us using it too hardly matters."

"It still seems like we are tampering with the natural order of things," murmured Fixer.

"If you tinkered around with explosives more often, you would see how awesome disorder can be," Scorch informed him.

"You don't have to accept Uthan's cure if you don't want to," Boss told Fixer. "I wish you would, though. I don't want to lose another man if I can help it."

"Sir, I promise that if you two accept the cure, then I will," announced Fixer, all seriousness. "I have learned that abandoning my brothers is the last thing that I want to do."