Prisoners of War

by Murasaki99

Part One - Captives

“Clones are an utter abomination! They should not exist and would not exist had not Grand Admiral Thrawn, curse him, rediscovered the secret of their manufacture. They are not human. They should all be destroyed the minute they fall into our hands. We can start with these.” Bothan High Councilor Fey’lya spoke with adamant conviction. An ugly murmur of agreement rippled through the assembly. All present remembered the years of the Clone Wars. While the clones serving the Grand Army of the Republic had been greeted with enthusiasm during the Republic’s time of need, no one had been entirely comfortable with an army composed of mass-produced warriors. During recent time, Admiral Thrawn had discovered and restarted the secret clone factory of the Emperor, causing old fears and hatreds to flame anew.

Lieutenant Anam Gorseth scowled at the New Republic High Council, sitting in special session just to address ‘the clone problem’. He stood in the dock as if he were a prisoner accused of a high crime, marooned on a low platform in the center of the great High Council chamber. Gorseth was a human of average height and medium build with brown hair, gray eyes, and a patrician face that sprang from the noble families of Alderaan. The High Councilors themselves sat in ordered ranks above him, many of them human, but many were alien as well. Human or alien, it did not take any great sensitivity for him to perceive that they held him in contempt and loathing. He stood in a rigid brace and refused to let his face show weakness or fear.

His men were depending upon him to keep them alive and safe from the vagaries of the political storms that were raging, threatening to carry them all away. He had thought that they would be safe enough as prisoners of war in the hands of the New Republic, but now he knew better. His platoon of cloned storm troopers had been one of several serving aboard the old Victory-class cruiser V-23. In their most recent fight, they had been outnumbered and outgunned, but had managed to destroy a number of New Republic ships before they had been damaged beyond repair and the ship’s captain had been forced to surrender.

Gorseth and his troops would not have given up had the choice been left to them, but he and his men had been injured during the battle and they had woken up in a New Republic medical facility long after the shooting had stopped. As soon as they had recovered enough to be out of danger, they had been removed to high-level detention - a prison much more secure than what was usually necessary for ordinary POWs. Gorseth had been separated from his men at that point. He eventually learned that the difference in treatment was because his men were clones. The survivors of his platoon were made up of clones of three individuals, none of the originals of which were alive any longer. The New Republic politicians had reacted to the knowledge with extreme revulsion and a near-blind desire to destroy the objects of their fear.

When he had learned that the New Republic High Council was debating their fate, Gorseth had demanded that he be allowed to address them. He did not feel as if he was at all qualified by training or temperament to debate a gang of politicians, but he felt obligated to try. After enduring an initial spate of angry questioning followed by several hours of windy argument from the High Councilors, he soon realized that the situation was even worse than he had first imagined. The politicians wanted blood, Imperial blood, and his platoon of cloned soldiers provided an easy target of opportunity.

Drawing in a steadying breath, he tried again to talk sense to them.

“Don’t we share common procedures in the treatment of prisoners of war? We of the Empire don’t shoot our prisoners out of hand.”

“Some of your superiors have done worse, Lieutenant.” Fey’lya gave him a keen stare.

“Everyone in our battle group obeyed the War Standards of Coruscant!”

“You do not have the full information available to us, Imperial lackey,” snorted a Rodian.

“I cannot speak for every decision taken by every Warlord or Moff in the Empire, but we - our battle group - followed the proper procedures in good faith.” Gorseth tried to rein in his temper, but felt that if he were obliged to take much more he’d have to try to grab a sidearm from one of his guards and shoot at least a few of the yapping Councilors to uphold the reputation of the Empire.

“Wait! The Imperial argues against the killing of his clones,” said Fey’lya with a suddenly bright expression. Gorseth watched him suspiciously. “We do not have to sully our hands and perhaps violate any treaties by actually killing these creatures,” the Bothan continued.

“What do you propose?” grunted an elderly Ithorian.

“Very simple. We put the entire group into cryofreeze. They do not die, but they will no longer be a danger to the galaxy. The solution is cheap and simple.” He looked as pleased as if he’d just been presented with the Presidency. Cries of approval from those present greeted his proposal.

“A vote then, all in favor indicate your approval,” declared the presiding President from his central podium. In short order the results were flashed to everyone’s data screens.

“The motion has been approved by a clear majority,” said Fey’lya. He offered a satisfied nod to his fellow Councilors.

Gorseth stared up at him with horror. “You cannot! My men are honorable soldiers and citizens of the Empire! They deserve full rights under the Standards!”

The Bothan favored him with a frozen glare. “Your men are most certainly not citizens, of this galaxy or any other.”

“Do you mean that the rights of a citizen only belong to those who are not cloned?” asked the lieutenant.

“That is exactly correct, Lieutenant Gorseth. The Empire created these - creatures, solely as pawns of the state, and we cannot accord them more rights than what they were given. In these dangerous times it is far safer for us to simply remove them from the game. Be grateful that we have chosen a more merciful option for them.” He gave the officer a supercilious smile. “Your arguments have at least given them a chance at life, rather than death, take comfort in that. You yourself will be remanded to a detention facility here for Imperial officers…”

“Take comfort!” Gorseth sputtered. “A chance at life?! How can you call being frozen solid ‘living’?! What sort of chance is that?”

“I realize the decision of this Council disappoints you, Lieutenant Gorseth, but the matter has been decided by consensus and there will be no further discussion.”

The lieutenant glared at Fey’lya for a long moment, speechless with anger. When he finally managed to get his emotions under control, he ground out, “If that is the way your decision stands regarding the fate of my men, then there is something else you need to know.”

“And that is?” The Councilor looked vaguely annoyed by Gorseth’s persistence.

The Imperial officer drew himself up. Looking straight ahead he spoke clearly his deliberate lie. “I am a clone as well.”

“What? You did not see fit to mention it earlier!”

“No. Because of your obvious prejudices, I saw no reason to do so while I thought I could spare my men an unjust fate. Now that you have made your decision, I do not want to be separated from them.” He impassively returned the glares from several hundred angry eyes, ignoring the fresh furor which broke out over his admission.

“He’s lying!” cried a Councilor from Mon Calamari.

“To what purpose?” snorted Fey’lya. “Not even the insane would volunteer for such treatment.”

“Unlike you humans and others, we clones cannot lie. We are conditioned against such behavior.”

“Very well, since you have demanded that you share the fate of your men, so it shall be.” Fey’lya gestured at the guards, who came forward to surround Gorseth. “Take him to detention and put him with his own kind. We shall place you and your men in cryofreeze as soon as the facility is prepared to process a large group. You will not have a long wait.”

Without another word, Gorseth performed a precise turn and left the council chambers with his guards, moving at such a pace that his escort nearly had to run to keep up. They finally managed to form a proper cordon around their prisoner and led him away.

*****

Gorseth found himself returned to the detention facility he had occupied since his discharge from the hospital. Instead of being taken back to the cell he shared with an officer of the same rank, he was marched into an even higher security area and pushed into the cell block that housed his men. Much to his relief they all seemed well and unharmed.

A brief inspection showed him the cell block was not too much different from the Imperial standard, consisting of a somewhat cramped eating/living common room with four sleeping pods branching off to either side from the main area. At night the men were locked into these smaller cells, four to six in each. A heavily-shielded holovid played to itself in the corner of the common room. Although the place was Spartan, it wasn’t too bad compared with other dungeons Gorseth had heard of. Upon his arrival, his eighteen men all crowded into the commons.

“Lieutenant! You’re all right! We thought those Alliance huttslime were going to kill you!” The clones, when they were together in a group, had the disconcerting habit of either talking in unison, or taking turns finishing each other’s sentences. It was rather like being at a large reunion of quintuplets, but Gorseth had become used to that aspect of working with clones some time ago. His men were members of a series of clones taken from templates of three different people: Rui, tan, blue-eyed and black-haired; Osman, hazel-eyed and dark with brown hair, and Buian, blond and very pale with piercing black eyes. They were all well over six feet tall and strongly-muscled. Several weeks of confinement had not overly harmed their fitness, which meant they had maintained the discipline to exercise. He was even more pleased to see that none of them appeared to have suffered crippling injuries and that all were well-healed from their wounds. They’re good soldiers, he thought, none better in all the Empire.

Gorseth remembered a time when his platoon had numbered three squads of ten men each. Now he was down to this brave remnant; six of Rui, eight of Osman, and four of Buian. Looking at them and thinking of their coming fate at the hands of the New Republic gave him a strange pain which swelled like a hot bubble in his heart. In his few years at the Academy, Gorseth had come to expect either glorious victory over the enemies of the Empire, or a quick death in battle. He had never envisioned having to shepherd himself and his men through a protracted ending. Seeing their glad expressions at his arrival only made him feel worse.

“Lieutenant! Are you hurt?” asked Khefret Osman in concern. “You don’t look so good, sir.”

Gorseth lowered his gaze, unable to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry, men. I’ve failed you.”

“Failed? What do you mean?” Tenno Rui asked, his clone brothers all nodding together.

“I couldn’t get the New Republic Council to agree that you are citizens under the War Standards of Coruscant. They’re going to put you all in cryofreeze rather than keep you as proper POWs.”

“Lieutenant, they were going to kill us outright. I think you did ok,” said Khefret to murmured echoes of agreement from his mates.

“Sir, we saw most of the Council meeting on the holovid. You were lucky to get what you did out of them. They really wanted to have us all shot, we could see that,” said Tef Buian.

“It isn’t right,” gritted the lieutenant. “It just isn’t right!” The raw edges of his pent-up frustration and rage colored his voice despite his best effort to keep it dispassionate.

“Lieutenant, you told them you were a clone like us. Why did you do that? Now you’ll be frozen, too.” Cornel Osman looked at him with curious non-comprehension. At that, Gorseth uttered a short, harsh laugh.

“It may sound strange, but that was the easiest part. After they decided to freeze you, I felt that I couldn’t bear another day looking at their ugly faces.” Stepping forward into the group he grabbed the shoulders of the two nearest men and gave them a rough squeeze. “You’re much better company than any pack of strutting politicians. I’d rather be with you, alive or dead, frozen solid, or in one of the seven hells of Niruu!” The hot, painful bubble finally burst and Gorseth was surprised to feel warm liquid run from his eyes and roll down his face. He released his men and swiped at the tears ineffectually with his sleeve. They gathered about, patting his back gently in an awkward effort to comfort him.

“Here, what do you think?” asked Tenno Rui of his comrades, speaking over the head of his officer. “What we spoke of earlier?”

“Yes, it’s only right,” Tef Buian said.

“We’re all agreed then. I’m glad,” Khefret Osman nodded.

They’re doing it again , Gorseth thought with a flash of gratitude for the distraction. That peculiar way of talking was normal behavior for his men. Although the room was more than likely monitored, the odd speech pattern was actually the result of several years of soldier’s almost-telepathic shorthand than from any fear of eavesdroppers.

A sharp tone echoed through the room, followed by a recorded announcement, “Curfew and lights-out will commence in 10 minutes. All prisoners are to enter their sleeping quarters.”

“Or they’ll shock the shit out of you,” Tef added the last detail helpfully with a wry grin. He gestured at the nearest cell. “Here, Lieutenant, there’s room in our pod for another. Space is kinda tight, hope you don’t mind.”

They herded him into the pod, which was lined with sleeping platforms. A tiny ‘fresher opened off the end of the pod. Gorseth used this to clean himself up as best he could. When he returned to the sleeping area he noticed that he was companioned by one of each of the clone series. He blinked at that. “I thought you mostly kept to your own set?” The cell door ran shut in its track with a sharp clang, startling him. He saw that his men had been incarcerated long enough not to react to the closure.

“We often do, Lieutenant, but we all wanted to share you properly among ourselves tonight, and for that we needed one from each series.” Khefret came up to him and began carefully unfastening the front of Gorseth’s tunic.

The lieutenant held motionless for a long minute, not quite understanding, and then his eyes went wide. “Whoa! Wait!” He caught Osman’s wrists. “I could be court-martialed for doing anything with you!” Tef Buian and Tenno Rui moved behind him and also began working on his clothing. Gorseth quickly realized that he was short by several pairs of hands if he wanted to fend them all off. He was neatly encircled by his men and they kept him penned in their midst.

“As I recall the regs, Lieutenant, you could be disciplined for forcing yourself on a subordinate.” Khefret said with a happy smile, freeing his wrists with a quick in-fighting move and returning to his interrupted task. “The regs say nothing about the reverse situation.”

“Besides,” added Tenno with a low chuckle. “No one gives a womp-rat’s butt about what we clones do with each other, and you’re a clone now, too, right?” He reached down, grasped Gorseth’s ankle. “Here, pick up.” When the lieutenant obeyed without thinking, the soldier removed the boot with an expert pull and twist, released the leg and did the same for the remaining one.

“But… I don’t…” Gorseth made a last protest. Between the three of them he was fast running out of clothing. His heart pounded like a runaway hyperdrive and he clutched at his shorts and undershirt with stubborn determination.

“Lieutenant, please let us,” said Khefret. He looked into Gorseth’s eyes with a sudden intensity that had nothing to do with lust. “We don’t know how much time we’ve got before they come for us. A day, two at the most, maybe. This is the only way we can sync-up and share resonance with you.”

“Resonance? What’s that?” Gorseth’s voice sounded strange to his ears.

“We clones all have a feeling for each other, which works whether we’re near or far. We can tell how we-the-group-of-us are doing. We all have it and we call it resonance. It’s strongest between those of the same series, but even across different series there is a sense of connection. Between series the resonance is enhanced if we sync-up this way.” Khefret slid his hand up under Gorseth’s shirt and pressed it against the officer’s tight abdominal muscles. “Can you feel it?”

The lieutenant wasn’t sure if it was the sheer thrill of forbidden excitement or not, but he felt an odd, cool tingle of sensation radiating into his skin from Khefret’s hand. “I feel… something,” he said hoarsely. “Something different.” He shivered, even though the room was comfortably warm. In the years he’d led his men, he’d never been told about this strange ability, although he’d certainly seen for himself their unspoken connection with each other.

“Please, will you let us?” Khefret asked again. “This is the one thing we can give you that no one can take away.” He and the others made no attempt to grab at Gorseth. The men behind him waited, merely touching him gently on his rigid back and shoulders. Where their fingers contacted his bare skin, he could feel more echoes of that odd sensation.

He stood in the soft gloom, breathing fast and shallow, aware of the cool other-sense pooling into his body where Khefret held his hand with steady pressure. He was also acutely aware of the calm presence of Tenno and Tef. They were offering a gift, he knew, the one unique thing they shared only with other clones. Until now. Gorseth drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. You wanted to be with them, he thought suddenly, so be with them.

Releasing his grip on his clothing, he let his hands fall to his sides. “I accept,” he said simply, relaxing into their arms. For the lieutenant the dim forms of his men soon blurred and ran together as sensation vied with perception. He gave up trying to sort it out and closed his eyes as the cool tingle spread into his nerves, flared up brightly, and consumed his senses.

*****

They had two entire days, days in which Gorseth could begin to adjust to the strange benefits and drawbacks of sharing resonance with eighteen other people. A pooling of awareness meant he always knew the state of health of any of his men. It also provided some emotional cushion and support against the trials of the day. The clones were all very even-tempered and stable and it took quite a bit to get them upset. They had learned early on the dangers of uncontrolled emotion, which could ricochet through the group like a blaster bolt, dragging everyone into its vortex. The lieutenant found their alert calmness a steadying influence for his worried mind.

On the morning of the third day since their “trial” at the hands of the High Council, they were given no breakfast, but were met instead by what appeared to be an army of New Republic guards armed with heavy stun blasters. A Captain Kento commanded the detachment, a tall, powerful man with dead eyes and a cruel set to his mouth. The clones were hauled out one by one and put in restraints that bound both wrists and ankles. Then they were loaded into an armored personnel floater and flown through the morning skies of Coruscant, landing at last in the ambulance hangar bay of one of the city’s largest hospitals. Once disembarked, they were lined up within a double row of guards and made to walk as best they could, given their shackles, into the far reaches of the building.

They were marched at last through a wide door into a large, well-lit room. A series of specialized medical droids puttered about with trays of instruments, the use of which could be guessed from their shape. The far wall of the room was entirely taken up with deep cabinets sealed with heavy magnetic hatches. A chill breeze like the very exhalation of winter greeted them. As Gorseth led his men farther into the room with his guards he came upon a clutch of medics, both human and droid, working on a small girl laid out on a repulsorlift table far too large for her thin body. Gorseth stopped, pushing gently back into that othersense he shared with his men, and the entire line halted as neatly as a skytrain stopping at the station.

Tenno Rui peered over his shoulder and grunted in surprise. “She doesn’t look like a dangerous Imperial clone to me.”

“She isn’t, you dummy. She’s just a kid,” said Korion Osman. “Wonder what she did to get herself frozen? Seems a bit young to be a dangerous subversive.”

A short, stout, comfortable-looking woman in physician’s garb stepped away from the table and approached them. When she saw the large group of armed guards surrounding the men clad neatly in the black uniforms of Imperial storm troopers, her mouth thinned into a grim line. Captain Kento indicated the captives with a jerk of his blaster muzzle.

“These are the prisoners that need freezing down.” He said without preamble.

“You’re early,” said the doctor shortly. She looked at Gorseth’s face and his rank flashes. “You’re the officer I saw on the holovid. Lieutenant Gorseth, right? I’m Doctor Semya.” She held out her hand then dropped it with embarrassment when she noticed his wrists were bound behind his back.

“Doctor,” said Gorseth politely, making a short bow. “I wish I could say that I am pleased to meet you, but under the circumstances…”

“So, what did the kid do?” blurted Tenno, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. He indicated the child with a lift of his chin. “She an Imperial spy?”

“Stars, no!” cried the doctor. “This is a hospital! She’s a patient. She has a rare blood disease for which we don’t yet have a cure, but we hope to have one in two or three years. We’ll keep her safe in cryofreeze until a cure is found, then revive and treat her.”

“Poor thing,” said Korion. He eyed the array of cryofreeze units anxiously. “You don’t have too many of those in that freezer, do you?” The clone had never actually seen a real child before, and now that he had, he found the thought of them being put into cryofreeze far more upsetting than his own situation.

“Actually, most of our patients are critically ill children with rare diseases and some few of the elderly who want to delay their deaths in hope of an eventual cure for whatever ails them.”

“You’re gonna put us in with sick kids and old people?” snorted Tir Buian. “Some prison!”

“It is the securest of prisons. You’ll never escape and you’ll never notice your cell-mates!” Captain Kento said with a nasty smile.

“This isn’t a prison, it’s a hospital!” Doctor Semya glared at Kento. To Gorseth she said. “We are taking you under protest. This is a place for sick people, not the healthy. This whole thing is medically unethical.”

“Please, Doctor, you’ve been through all this before with your superiors.” Kento looked bored. “You have your orders, as do I. Now finish up with your patient so we can get these - things - put where they belong.”

Semya looked at her medical team. “They will have the process complete in three minutes or so. Since you’re early, we don’t have everything entirely set up to do multiple people at once. I’ll put in a call and the extra droids and medics will get down here as quickly as they can.” At the captain’s unhappy look she continued, “In the interim we can begin processing one at a time.” She looked at Gorseth. “Who do you want us to work on first?”

The lieutenant felt the attention of all of his men focused on him like a tight-beam laser. He caught flashes of fear and anger and pushed it down resolutely. Calm, he sent out, breathing deeply. Be calm. The fearful sensations eased. This took but a moment. “You may as well do me first. I lead them into battle; I must lead here as well.”

“Very well. You’re a brave fellow. Normally our patients never see this place since most of them are brought here under anesthesia.” She gestured with her hand. “Have the rest of them line up against the near wall.” The guards pushed the clones back to the indicated spot and waited at parade-rest, watching their charges diligently. Captain Kento thrust his blaster into Gorseth’s back and pushed him forward after the doctor, almost running him into the group of medics. The humans in the bunch looked at him with expressions ranging from fear to annoyance.

Now that Gorseth was at such close range, he could get a good look at the child. Her nude body was waxy-pale and Gorseth could not tell if she was breathing. She looked like nothing more than a dead child embalmed and laid out for burial. Some sort of tubing, nearly as thick as his finger, ran into her chest above the heart. Other tubes, not quite as thick, ran out from the arteries on either side of her neck. Everything was connected to one of the specialized droids.

Seeing his expression, Doctor Semya hastened to explain. “The tubes are arterial shunts. We remove almost half the patient’s blood volume and replace it with Xylitax fluid. It penetrates the tissues and prevents cellular damage during freeze-down; otherwise we’d never be able to do this safely. The best way to deliver a high volume of fluid quickly is by pumping it in through a shunt in the heart and drawing the excess blood out through the carotid arteries. Once begun, the entire process takes only five minutes and the patient is ready to go into cryofreeze right after.” As she spoke the droids carefully disconnected and sealed the shunts, leaving the stubs where they were embedded. They lifted the girl with a precise movement and laid her on another repulsor gurney. One of the general orderly droids pushed the gurney off toward the cryofreeze unit. This left the processing table open, if not terribly inviting.

Semya touched the controls and the table lowered. “Here, lie down.”

Gorseth sat down on the table then swung his legs up. His boots thunked dully against the metal and the leg shackles raised a loud metallic clatter. The doctor uttered a noise of irritation. “This is ridiculous!” She pointed at his restraints. “Remove those immediately. The man can’t even lie down with his arms bound like that!”

“He’s dangerous,” grunted Kento.

“If he’s so dangerous, have another guard come up and help, but we can’t work on him like that. I can’t believe the lack of planning from you people! You should have had them all remove their heavy uniforms and change into light gowns before bringing them here.” She turned to a nearby orderly droid. “Thirty-three, get some heavy vibro shears, will you? We’re going to have to cut him out of his clothing; we can’t freeze him in this stuff.”

Kento brought up two guards and under the threat of their blasters the shackles were removed and Gorseth was laid out and strapped to the table. The woven restraints were adequate, if not terribly heavy, being meant more to keep sick people from falling or hurting themselves if they had convulsions, but it obviously made the guards feel better to have him tied down in some way. For himself, the threat of having his men killed if he misbehaved was a far more effective restraint than any physical device, but Gorseth did not feel obligated to tell the New Republic people that. Doctor Semya raised the table up to its working height.

One of the droids produced the requested shears and with quick efficiency began to remove his uniform by cutting it away into pieces. Gorseth endured this humiliation in silence and stared stoically at the lights of the distant ceiling. He wondered if the child who had preceded him had felt quite as terrified, and hoped that she hadn’t. At least he trusted the droid not to slip and cut him as it worked. Resonance told him his men were wary but relatively calm, and he let that awareness ease his nerves a little. Without the fabric to insulate him the table felt icy cold.

“Here, take a blood and cell sample and I’ll calibrate the main shunt driver,” Doctor Semya gave orders with confidence, falling into the familiar pattern for cryofreeze prep. “We’ll need a general. Triclo, I think, given his age and fitness level.” Instruments clinked behind his head, out of the range of his vision. “Have you had any major illnesses?” she asked him unexpectedly.

Gorseth focused on her face. “No, not since I…” He was about to say, “not since I was a kid”, but stopped himself just in time. “No. Nothing.”

“Allergies?”

“No.”

Semya looked professionally at his bare chest, examining with her fingers the fine tracery of scars that threw a pale webwork over his ribs and upper body. “Something got you good, fairly recently.”

“Hull-burst on our ship,” he said. “My squad and I stayed to seal up the holes. Then we were hit again. It’s how we came into the - care - of the New Republic .”

“Scan shows that tertiary healing of the patient’s wounds has been completed, Doctor Semya. We can commence cryofreeze preparation safely,” said the medical droid. It extended an arm adapted to hold a heavy gunlike device that held coils of shunt tubing. The business end of the device it positioned precisely over Gorseth’s chest, a little to the left side of his breastbone and directly above his heart.

“Calibration complete. Give me that tube of Triclo, we’ll put him under, and then perform the thoracic puncture.” She reached over one of the smaller droids for the ampoule of anesthetic being offered by a human medic.

Captain Kento had watched the preparations with a growing sense of outraged anger. The doctors were treating the Imperial like a patient rather than a war criminal! With a growl, he said. “What are you dragging your heels for? These aren’t human; you shouldn’t even be worrying about them. Quit wasting time! Here, let’s get going!” Reaching out quickly, he pressed the trigger release on the shunt driver. With a sharp pop of compressed air it drove the shunt into Gorseth’s chest. As programmed, it penetrated skin, muscle, and lung tissue like a spear, boring smoothly into the heart muscle and sealing itself into place. The lieutenant surged against the restraints as a black flower of agony bloomed in his heart. Without anesthesia the process was brutally painful and he uttered a choked cry before getting himself under some control. Imperial soldiers were trained to resist torture and he called upon that conditioning now to keep himself from screaming his lungs out. With an iron will, he pushed the pain aside. It was still there, but it no longer commanded his mind.

Doctor Semya, frozen for an instant in shock at this sudden assault on her patient, now reacted with trained speed, slapping the ampoule of anesthetic against Gorseth’s neck. It emptied itself with a soft popping sound.

Gorseth’s face, which had been set in a terrible grimace, smoothed out a little. Speaking slowly and carefully he said. “I take great comfort in knowing that you people are worse then we are. It confirms my bad opinion of you.” A thin trickle of bright red, frothy blood ran from his nostrils as broken capillaries leaked into his punctured lung. Doctor Semya saw at once that the dosage of anesthetic was ineffective when used on a patient in dire agony whose entire system was charged with adrenaline and cortisols.

Captain Kento laughed at him. “You Imperial slug. This is nothing. You’re lucky I don’t have the time to do half the things I’d like to do!”

Doctor Semya stepped between Kento and his victim, her face pale. “Enough! Get away and let me prepare him properly for cryo. Just because he’s an Imperial is no reason to hurt him!” Having served for years under harsh Imperial rule, Semya found it nearly impossible to go against the orders of soldiers, but she managed to find the internal strength to do so now. She stopped her protests as the sounds of riot intruded on her awareness. The rest of the platoon, sequestered in their neat line against the wall had seen, heard, and felt everything.

“The Sithspawn are torturing the Lieutenant! Get them!” Tenno Rui shouted in outrage. In an instant they had broken ranks and were fighting as only storm troopers could fight. The fact that they were in restraints didn’t discourage them at all. Sheer pandemonium raged for several long minutes as the New Republic guards fought to get their charges back under control. There was at least one unfettered guard per prisoner. It didn’t matter. The clones rolled on the floor, kicking and thrashing. Guards who stood too close received broken legs for their trouble. Those foolish enough to tackle and grab a clone were summarily and severely bitten. Finally the guards and their captain resorted to firing stun bolts at the clones. One by one they jerked and lay still. Silence fell at last, broken only by the groaning of the injured guards.

“Oh, well done,” said the dry voice of Gorseth from his place on the table. Kento shook an unconscious clone loose from his arm and fired a stun bolt into the immobilized Imperial officer. Gorseth’s body arched in a sharp convulsion then sagged back.

“There,” he said with a snarl at Doctor Semya, who had watched the entire thing in horror. “They’re all properly unconscious. Process them now and be quick about it!”

The medical staff slowly reassembled and began to work on Gorseth, mopping away the blood that had leaked out around the shunt and applying a sealant to halt the bleeding. Those New Republic guards with only bite wounds began to help those with broken limbs away to Emergency, while the less-injured dragged the limp clones up to the processing area.

“Get, get some anesthetics - Pherizine will do - and dose them all. I don’t want any of them to wake up.” Semya ordered one of the droids.

“Doctor Semya, Pherizine is recommended for the fragile patient,” reminded the droid as it began selecting ampoules of drugs from a tray.

“Exactly. After the systemic shock of being stunned, they are all in a fragile state. I don’t want any of them to go into cardiac arrest.”

“Very good, Doctor,” the droid replied. As it rolled off, she snagged an ampoule from the tray and applied it to Gorseth’s neck. The rigid muscular tetany eased and his face suddenly looked much younger as the drugs finally took hold and he relaxed.

“Why bother? He’s not going to wake up before you freeze him. Stun bolts take a couple of hours or more to wear off.” Kento shook his head at what he regarded as a waste of good drugs.

“Unconscious doesn’t mean anesthetized, Captain.” She gave him a flat stare. “Next time you’re a patient here I’ll note in your chart that you are willing to take major surgery with only a stun bolt as a painkiller.” Much to her relief, Kento backed away and left her and her team alone with their patient.

*****

“Well, that was horrible,” said Semya with a heavy sigh as she slid the last clone into his place in the cryo-storage unit. Touching the control panel caused a port to close with a hiss of cold air, sealing the occupants firmly inside their frozen prison. She gave Captain Kento a dark look. He shrugged, indifferent to her censure, brushing at the bite mark marring his left forearm.

“Who cares? These were only storm trooper clones. Council wanted ‘em frozen, now they’re frozen. They can stay that way forever for all I care. They can’t complain and no one will ever know.”

Unfortunately for the New Republic officer and his men, a tiny spider-like vididroid clinging outside the hospital windows had recorded the entire scene. The evening’s holovid news played and replayed the drama in full color and sound. Networks throughout the settled systems relayed the news. By the next morning there wasn’t a clone in the Empire who would even consider surrendering to the New Republic, and even many Imperial ships with normal crews had decided it would be better to fight to the death rather than risk such a fate. Lieutenant Gorseth had been a natural human - the Imperials knew that even if the Council did not - and the sight of him being tortured and frozen by a laughing New Republic officer made them furious.

****

Leia clicked off the 3D newsvid with a groan when the clip flashed up for the third time that evening. She had been sitting with her brother in the main family room of her residence. “Things were starting to settle down; we were making real headway with the last of the Empire. Defections and surrenders were way up. Now this happens!”

“I think before we try to negotiate any more surrenders we need to get the Council to come to some decision on how to treat any surviving clones,” Luke said, looking at the vid unit as if he could still see the struggling images of Gorseth and his men. “Freezing them isn’t the answer.”

“They’re afraid,” Leia said. She paced the length of the room, stepping over Jacen’s scattered toys. “I understand their feelings. The clones are chilling to see. You and I can feel how different from normal people they are. So can anyone with the Force.”

“But they aren’t evil, as such. Given time and a different situation, they could adapt to a more normal life, I believe.”

“That seems to be what we’re short of, isn’t it?” She asked with a strained smile at her brother. “Time?”

Luke levitated a toy X-wing into his hand and placed it gently on the table. “Lieutenant Gorseth and his men have all the time in the universe right now.”

Leia exhaled an exasperated sigh as she thought of the onerous task ahead. “I’ll speak to the Council as soon as possible.” POW Part 2

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