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jokeroutsubs · 6 months ago

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[ENG TRANSLATION] Joker Out, or the return of faith in the power of music:

Original article written by Žikica Milošević for EXIT 13.07.2024. English translation by IG irenalemajic, proofread by IG gboleyn123

The second night of Exit Festival 2024 on the Tesla Universe stage was literally and thematically dedicated to pop music, specifically 'classic', 'old school' pop music. The most significant stage of the festival was marked by performers from Slovenia and Vojvodina, so the north of former Yugoslavia demonstrated how to create an atmosphere and memorable songs.

And it began powerfully, while the sun above Petrovaradin Fortress, after another day of being merciless, was still blinding the performers, because Astrid & The Scandals got on the stage at 7:30 p.m. restoring our faith in alter-pop, as well as in Slovenian talent to produce hitmakers. In the old Yugoslavia, Slovenians were always at the forefront of musical breakthroughs, dictating trends along the Ljubljana-Zagreb-Belgrade axis. Independent Slovenia no longer had a lead role and for many decades we did not hear performers similar to Laibach, Pankrti, Lačni Franz or Buldožer, but the situation has abruptly changed in the past few years.

Instead of avant-garde and peculiar performers, hitmakers and creators of great pop music are now coming from Slovenia. The bouncy Astrid energetically announced the 'new era', adding oriental elements to her music, dancing seductively and delivering vocal virtuosity. Undoubtedly, she is 'the next big thing' in pop music in the region, and with a bit of luck, in Europe as well.

It has not happened for a long time, that the atmosphere becomes so 'heated' already at 8 p.m, but Astrid had already raised the temperature and the girls in Joker Out T-shirts were in the front rows even during the performance of Ljubičice, which perfectly continued the series of performances this evening. Their concert is a kind of poetic justice - they were supposed to lead the Main Stage at Exit in 2019 at 8 p.m. but unfortunately, the storm cut the program short and 'plucked' them from the lineup.

In the meantime, the band from Pančevo, which is composed of the two Stevanović brothers, who got a classical music education, has grown into a trio, since Olga Petrović has recently joined them as the 'third flower' in their little bouquet. There's an old saying that 'Vojvodina is Britain and Belgrade is America' in music, and pop bands from Vojvodina are widely known for their fresh melodies and hit potential and Ljubičice who, with their 'brotherly and neighbourly' band Buč Kesidi, began to conquer the region even before the pandemic, gaining fame with the song 'Jedva čekamo rat ljudi protiv mašina'. Ljubičice are the kind of pop band we've needed for a long time, and if their songs reminded me of anything, it is the sunset in summer...of 1983. A mixture of funk, synthwave and nostalgia, combined with guitar and bass skilfulness, gave us an excellent overture for what will happen later. Vuk reminded the audience that they performed at Exit back in 2014 on the Jack Daniels Stage, when they were young and relatively unestablished – and now they command the stage as if they were born to it.

And then - Joker Out, heartbreakers from Ljubljana, form with substance, the best of both worlds. It was clear to us what to expect when, at the mere hint of their entrance, the screams of the girls began, which I remember from the documentaries about The Beatles. Love messages on cardboard signs, choral singing, fantastic communication between the band and the audience were evident right from the opening song, 'Katrina'.

Joker Out are much more raw and more guitar-driven during their live performances than on their 'polished' recordings and the influences of bands such as Arctic Monkeys or The Strokes are evident.

On the other hand, the fascination of the female part of the audience is completely understandable, because besides the fact that they really know how to play, all five members have a 'superstar vibe', in the way Duran Duran or Spandau Ballet once had the same vibe. I believe that the last time such a reception was registered was during the era of boy bands 20+ years ago, but the Jokers are anything but a boy band. Singer Bojan Cvjetićanin probably 'reaped' the biggest 'harvest' of love from the audience, but the other members are not that far behind.

Slovenian is 75% understandable when read or spoken, which drops to 50% when sung (and when thousands of girls are singing along with Bojan), but it's clear that the lyrics are engaged in a way similar to Buč Kesidi – precisely dissecting the everyday life of young people in a big city, their disappointments, dates, breakups, loves and sorrows...

Bojan won the hearts of the local audience from the very beginning by addressing them in Serbian and he also managed to make a 'population census' among the attenders. We saw that (incredibly loyal fan base) quite a number of spectators came from Slovenia, but that there were even more people from the other parts of the former Yugoslavia and even those who understand none of our languages - simply driven by their love for the band that gained wider popularity at Eurovision in 2023.

The Jokers did not hide their exitement to perform on this already legendary stage.

The concert continued with a series of songs that are 'friendly' for parties, bedrooms, the beach and the radio - 'Plastika, znanstvena fantastika' and Bojan's sharp analysis of the 'culture' of plastic beauty made me look around and conclude that none of the girls in the audience were 'plastic' - which is a breath of normality and freshness we've been lacking now that we are wrapping up the first quarter of the 21st century. A better future is still possible, even though a worse present is dominant.

Joker Out jokingly call their style 'shagadelic rock' (translate it by yourself, but watch Austin Powers first), but there is nothing funny about their music. All of their songs are in Slovenian, except for two they performed in Serbian¹ (Bojan’s background allows him to play with languages and easily switch from one to another) and one in English.

In the song 'Tokio', they took us to Japan and sang part of it in Japanese too, previously teaching a 'little course on love expressions in Japanese.'

'The song that brought us here – 'Carpe Diem'!' – Bojan shouted and the audience received an infusion of energy and joy. Indeed, it was almost unimaginable 20 years ago that a 'schlager festival' would produce new stars and headliners, but Eurovision has become just that – a springboard. And it doesn't matter that they were 21st in the competition. Who cares about numbers – some performers are there to win points during the competition and some are there to conquer the world after the competition. The last song, 'Šta bih ja', was perfectly timed to be released on Friday, on the day of the concert – and it tells us, somewhat in the manner of 'Arctic Monkeys listening to Sarajevo pop', about the experience of life in London.

Joker Out brought 'sexy' back to pop music. We didn't lack cheap sex appeal all these years, but we did miss sophisticated and rock sex appeal. They brought the classic pop formation back big time – and we've missed it. They brought the energy back to the stage, female fans who travel to see them, scream their names and know all the songs by heart.

I can imagine the 'good old' days of girls' bedrooms decorated with their posters. Even if they hadn't recorded a single good song, all of this would have been enough and refreshing. But they recorded plenty of good ones. And somehow I believe we witnessed history and the beginning of a 'stellar' story with five guys from Ljubljana in the lead role.

¹In this case, the author of this article is referring to two songs that have already been released in Serbian, 'Ona' and 'Demoni'.

The band now has three songs in Serbian, including 'Šta bih ja'.

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #jan peteh #nace jordan #kris guštin #kris gustin #jure macek #jure maček

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lifblogs · 6 months ago

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Crossing Paths

Neurodivergent Tech Week 2024 Day 1: Cadet Batch @neurodivergent-tech-week

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 7167 Summary: Clone Force 99 are on their way to a fortress world for a training mission when their shuttle is hijacked by none other than Hondo Ohnaka. Can they get out of this mess? WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

Tech recognized the familiar jolt of a ship coming to a pause, but—

“Why has our shuttle stopped?” Wrecker asked, rushing ahead to see if he could view what was going on through one of the few transparisteel viewports offered to them outside the cockpit.

From the starboard side, there wasn’t much to see: just black, empty space, and the twinkling of foreign, faraway stars.

“We’re not scheduled to dock yet,” Hunter said. “We still have another hyperspace jump to make.”

“Doesn’t seem like the pilots agree with that,” Crosshair said, trailing behind them as they walked the passageways, shoulders a bit hiked up, everyone on high alert.

“Yes, this is highly irregular,” Tech said.

He stowed his datapad on his belt, letting Hunter take the lead.

Blaster fire sounded, and everyone froze.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff! Tech didn’t have his blaster on him. They were being transported for a training mission, so they had all left their blasters in their barracks, about to wander around to kill some time.

Hunter at least had his vibroblade.

“Positions, everyone.”

Body already remembering his training well, Tech took a position to the right side of the passageway, fists raised to protect his face and chest. Crosshair took the left, and Wrecker was behind him. All of them were readying to fight, despite being severely outgunned.

What is going on?

Hunter pressed a button, and sealed the door in front of them.

Everyone’s breathing seemed too loud, and Tech tried to ignore the way it seemed to press at his eardrums like actual matter rather than waves. It almost tickled, the sensation deeply uncomfortable.

“What do you think is going on?” Wrecker asked in a too-loud whisper.

Tech ran through the catalogue in his mind, and came up with, “Pirates, perhaps. Or whatever enemy we are being trained so hard to fight.”

“Fun,” Crosshair commented, voice lethal enough to down an entire platoon from ten klicks away.

“Oh, I’ve never met a pirate before!” Wrecker said.

Everyone shushed him.

The blaster fire sounded again, louder, closer.

Sweat dotted Tech’s upper lip.

His instincts told him to back away, to run, and he even tensed his calves against the urge to do so.

Screams filled Tech’s ears, the screams of injured and dying men, their escorts for this training mission. He swallowed roughly, hoping the clones he’d spoken with during this trip were alive, but he wasn’t so sure about that.

At this point in their lives they were teenagers, probably around the biological age of fifteen or sixteen. Their training was getting more and more intense, and for this they were supposed to train on a fortress world, and get the feel of how a fully operational military base worked.

Would they even make it there?

“That does not sound good,” Tech said, surprised his voice didn’t quaver.

“Hunter, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Crosshair voiced.

Tech couldn’t help but agree with him.

Something—perhaps an armored body—banged against the door.

“Fall back,” Hunter ordered. “We make for the barracks. The entrance is smaller, more easily defensible.”

“Plus our blasters are there,” Crosshair added.

Wrecker groaned, clearly upset that he wasn’t able to use his physical prowess just yet. Tech could imagine that he wished he could barge through the enemies as soon as the doors opened.

They drew back in an organized rush, sealing the few doors in the passageways behind them.

The shuttle wasn’t very big, just a standard transport.

The power cut out, and soon they were bathed in the red emergency lights.

“Great,” Wrecker commented.

In the darkened passageway they all but ran into a pair of clones who were heading for the bow.

“Cadet, report,” one said. The flowy design in red on the helmet suggested that this was CC-9565, Ven. Tech had had a few meals with him, and had learned that he had a great eye for military strategy.

The other was CC-3498, Blight, the jagged geometrical markings on his helmet a strong identifier. He was what the others would call a bit of a wild card, but Tech liked his flying abilities and quick thinking.

Hunter fell into line, saying, “Intruders are aboard the shuttle. We believe…” He swallowed roughly, and continued, almost panting the words, “We believe there have been casualties. We sealed the doors, so we don’t know how many men are left, or who the intruders are.”

“All right. We’ll take it from here. Get to the barracks, and prepare for battle.”

All four of them said their yes sirs, and then broke off, Ven, and Blight holding their blasters at the ready, Clone Force 99 heading away from them.

When they got to the barracks, and readied their weapons, Tech began to shift his weight from one leg to the other.

Time passed.

And passed.

“We should go check on them,” Wrecker suggested. “Ven, and Blight could need our help.”

“They told us to stay here,” Crosshair pointed out, maybe just to be argumentative.

He was all but lounging with his rifle, and Tech was gritting his teeth from it. He loved Crosshair, but could he at least take a situation seriously for once?

No, that was unfair.

Crosshair was perhaps the most serious of them all, maybe enough to rival Hunter. He just showed it in different ways.

Hunter checked his blaster one more time, and said, “Let’s move out.”

It didn’t take long to find the enemy as they were sweeping the ship. They were too big to hide in the vents like Tech wished they still could, so when one of the passageway doors opened, and they were ready to spring in, they came face to face with Weequays.

So they are pirates.

Why would they be attacking a vessel transporting clones, of all things?

They all paused, and then the shootout started.

Tech twirled, jamming himself into a small alcove, the others doing similar maneuvers.

He aimed, heart nearly stopping as he realized for a moment that he’d never fired upon another lifeform with the express intent to kill.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Tech aimed for the chest of a Weequay firing at Hunter, he inhaled, exhaled. Squeezed the trigger.

The Weequay went down with a smoking, burnt hole through the heart; and Tech didn’t have time to lift his goggles and wipe away the sudden wetness in his eyes. He blinked, blinked again, and cursed himself for crying in the middle of battle.

His vision cleared somewhat, wetness coalescing at the bottom edge of his goggles.

Tech wanted to glance at the others, see if they were having similar problems.

Again, there was no time.

Everything became smoke, and bright bolts nearly searing his eyes, lighting up the passageway in confusing flashes, and screams, and cries. The red lights of the passageway. His senses were nearly overloaded, but his body moved as it had been trained, mind barely needing to consciously take in every detail.

His breathing sawed in and out of his chest despite hardly moving, adrenaline working overtime to try and keep him alive.

Hunter took out the final Weequay in the group.

Tech resisted the urge to lower his blaster and lean against the bulkhead. This might not be over yet.

Hunter went over to observe one of the bodies, nudging it with a foot to test if he was really dead.

“What now?” Wrecker asked.

“We advance,” Hunter said, “see if we can get the pirates to retreat, retake the ship, and get the hell out of here.”

“Do we go back to Kamino?” Tech asked, trying to think five steps ahead.

“We’ll contact the Kaminoans when we retake the ship. Now move, come on!”

They jogged down the passageways, running into bodies—both those of clones, and Weequay—blasters raised at chest level, ready to fire. A detached coldness took over Tech, making it easier and easier to look at the bodies.

Clone Force 99 frequently paused to do a quick check for enemies, and checking to see if any of the other clones were alive, and then they’d keep moving.

Talking sounded dead ahead, and they all turned into alcoves, trusting the shadows to hide their presence.

“What a mess,” a voice said in an accent Tech hadn’t had much time to study yet: Weequay. “Look what you’ve done. I didn’t want everyone dead. I just want those clone cadets. And what if they’re not even alive? They’re worth a lot of money to me, you know? I need them alive. Do you even know what the means?”

A strange, hoarse laugh followed. A Kowakian monkey-lizard? He recognized it from his various recordings.

Tech frowned, wondering who would pay to have them. Sure, they were finishing up training to be a special ops force, but going to all this trouble?

“And I like money,” the Weequay went on, voice getting louder as he drew closer.

Tech signaled to Hunter, What’s the plan?

Hunter turned to them, knowing Tech, Crosshair, and Wrecker had an eye on the passageway ahead of them.

He flashed various hand signals that basically amounted to, Charge them, and take them by surprise.

Ah, so the usual.

The voice drew closer, steps sounding like a loud and over-important swagger against the durasteel.

Go, Hunter ordered.

They charged around the corner, firing.

Tech took everything in the passageway in in less than a second, filing through all this information for immediate use. There were five Weequay in the passageway, one with a large red coat and goggles, the Kowakian monkey-lizard lounging on his shoulders, and giggling. All the flare suggested he was the captain of this pirate crew. The others grabbed their blasters almost immediately, two Weequay coming in to guard the leader…

…who shoved them aside.

He didn’t have a blaster raised. In fact, he raised his empty hands.

Hunter and Crosshair shot the knees of two of the Weequay in front and they went down in screams and groans.

The one in the red coat shoved the blasters of his other men down.

“Stop, stop. We want them alive. Alive is good. We all like being alive, don’t we?”

Tech considered shooting him, shooting the others, but it didn’t feel right now that their blasters were lowered.

“Hold,” Hunter said.

Wrecker didn’t quite listen, charging through with a rough cry and smashing the heads of the two suffering Weequay on the floor together, rendering them unconscious.

Guilt prickled at Tech’s chest when his brain presented him with the selfish, unsavory thought of, At least I don’t have to hear them scream anymore.

The one with the coat got close enough to push at Wrecker’s chest, while his pet jumped down and sauntered over to Tech. In a flash his datapad was in its hands, and he made a grab for it, but blasters started to raise again.

Tech huffed, but stepped back. He glared at the animal, and it shook the datapad, taunting him.

“You’re a big one,” the captain said to Wrecker.

Wrecker stepped back.

“Thanks?”

The Weequay drew closer as his pet with its stolen object clambered up to his shoulder again. Hunter levered his weapon at him.

“Come any closer and you’ll find yourself with a hole in the chest. You and your pet.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” he said, taking a step back. “Boys, boys, boys. I don’t want to kill you. We don’t want to kill you.”

“I kinda want to kill them,” a Weequay in the back commented.

The supposed-captain rolled his eyes, and sauntered over to him, grabbing him by the neck.

“Don’t you understand?” he cried. “We need them.”

He shook him, and then let go.

He sniffed. “I’m sorry for my friends. They don’t have much going on upstairs sometimes, you know?”

“Hey!”

“Huh?”

“Why do you want us?” Hunter asked.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to not find out. Let’s just say a lot of, um, spice is involved.”

“Spice?” Tech asked, not having really heard the term before.

The captain sauntered over to him, and he was close enough for Tech to press his blaster against his forehead, pausing the Weequay who had outstretched arms. He did falter as he glanced at his stolen datapad the Kowakian monkey-lizard was now playing with it.

“Don’t even try it,” he told the captain.

“Fine, fine. You boys are trigger happy, aren’t you? Look at this mess!”

“Who are you?” Crosshair demanded.

“Oh, how rude of me. My name is Hondo Ohnaka, the best pirate captain in the galaxy,” He bowed in a rather overdramatic way, movements thrown wide. “And I am here to deliver you to my current employer for this job. But come, come, why don’t we head to the mess and talk without the blasters? I’m starving.”

Everyone just stared.

“You do have a mess hall, right? You eat? Actually, do clones need to eat?”

“Of course we eat,” Crosshair scoffed, voice injected with enough venom to stun a rancor.

“Tough crowd,” Hondo commented.

Tech slowly started lowering his blaster.

“What are you doing?” Hunter hissed.

Tech turned to his team, saying, “We need to know more about what’s going on. If Hondo here wants to talk, then let’s talk.”

Hondo pointed at him. “I like you.”

“I am afraid the feelings are not mutual.”

“No, they wouldn’t be, would they?”

“Fine,” Hunter said, motioning for everyone to lower their weapons. “Let’s hear him out.”

“But first,” Wrecker said, charging forward again, poking at Hondo’s chest hard enough to make him wave his arms a little as he almost fell backwards, “we want to know if Ven, and Blight are alive.”

“Um, who?”

“Our friends.”

“Two clones that went to confront you,” Hunter asked. “Please, are there any others alive?”

“I certainly hope so. I could get into a lot of trouble for what my men did. Why don’t we go find them, and then we can eat?

Tech looked around at all the carnage, stomach plummeting.

“How can you eat at a time like this?” he demanded.

“Oh, it’s easy, my dear boy. You see, you put food in your mouth, you chew, and you swallow. Simple as that.”

“He meant the dead bodies,” Crosshair intoned.

“Right! That. I eat around dead guys all the time. You wouldn’t believe how messy this business can get. Now, come on! Let’s go. We’ll check the cockpit first.”

Hondo started leading them away, and Clone Force 99 stared at each other, frowning.

“I don’t like this,” Crosshair admitted.

“Neither do I,” Hunter said, “but we have no choice. Come on.”

By the time they caught up to Hondo, Hondo had his arms thrown around Ven, and Blight while his pet knocked on Ven’s helmet with Tech’s datapad. Hondo was talking to them like they were old friends out for a drink instead of two men he could have killed and probably would have if not for Clone Force 99 deciding to leave the barracks.

“Are these the two you were looking for?” Hondo inquired. “They’re a bit shaken up, but they’ll be fine.”

Then he said to his men who waited to the side, “Bind them, and throw them in a supply closet somewhere. I can’t have fully trained clones wandering around my ship.”

“Excuse me,” Tech said, “but this shuttle is actually Kaminoan property.”

Hondo laughed. “Do you understand pirates, my boy?”

“I am familiar with your… profession, yes.”

“Well, then it shouldn’t be a stretch for me to say this ship is mine now.”

Hondo approached and poked him in the forehead. Tech frowned hard enough that if looks could kill Hondo would have been dead years ago, body imploded in space. And he spared a second or two to train that look on Hondo’s highly irritating pet.

Ven, and Blight didn’t say anything with blasters pointed at them, until they were being toted away.

“Stay strong, cadets,” Ven said.

“We’ll figure this out,” Blight promised.

Tech highly doubted that, but he recognized their words as what was almost a mandatory script of reassurance. It was just how most lifeforms interacted with each other, some sort of script that Tech had never gotten (so he tended to make his own).

Hondo shoved Ven and Blight, and then kicked a body (Tech grimaced, stomach turning over), and they were forced to lead Hondo to the mess after their weapons had been taken from them. Though, Tech was pretty sure Hunter’s vibroblade was hidden in his sleeve, strapped in place with a holster he kept there for emergencies like this (not that anything like this had happened before).

Eventually all four of them were sitting down in the mess across from Hondo. Tech and Crosshair had almost matched sneers for Hondo as he ate, and the others looked like they were experiencing varying degrees of disgust.

Guards with blasters set to stun had those blasters held to the backs of their heads. The cold of it was already starting to warm from Tech’s body heat.

Tech sat beside Wrecker, who sat beside Hunter, and Crosshair was next to him on the far end.

“So silent,” Hondo commented, shoving more food into his mouth.

His pet ate right from his plate.

Hondo took a sip of his drink—a Kaminoan engineered juice that was perfect for clone metabolism—and slammed it down.

“What is this?” he cried. “Don’t you have any alcohol around here?’

“No,” Hunter answered. “Not unless you check the barracks for contraband, I suppose.”

Hondo waved at two of his men. “Go—go do that.”

“Why haven’t you just taken us to your ship yet?” Tech asked, finding Hondo’s methods strange. It unnerved him a bit that he couldn’t quite grasp his enemy yet, but he would. “Aren’t we supposed to be delivered to your employer?”

“All in good time, my friend.”

Hunter growled at him.

“You boys are so rude.”

“You killed our escorts,” Crosshair spat.

“That was an accident!” Hondo cried. “My word, can you not understand a thing?”

“I think you’re the one not understanding,” Hunter argued.

“Fine, you are my prisoners. I have to deliver yout to my employer alive, but I’m hungry. Can’t a hardworking pirate captain take a break? Jeez.”

He continued eating, his pet spilling the juice after one taste.

Hunter’s sneer was almost as bad as Crosshair’s. Wrecker sat in surprised, grim silence.

Tech tapped his fingers against the table, desperately wishing for his datapad, if only so he could type to release all this horrible energy within him.

He was trying to figure Hondo out as he tapped away, trying to see how they could possibly get out of this. If they tried anything physical they’d be stunned.

“How much are you getting paid?” Tech asked.

“As if I’m going to tell the boy who doesn’t know what spice is.”

“I have already figured that out. Go on.”

Hondo gave a number, and Hunter whistled.

“Wow,” Wrecker said.

Tech ran the numbers through his head, comparing them to others he knew about, and of course accounted for the inflation problem he’d discovered quite by accident once.

“The Kaminoans can pay more,” Tech said.

“Tech, are you sure about that?” Hunter asked.

“Right!” Hondo cried, throwing his fork about. “Names. Names, names, names. How rude of me—I forgot to ask you your names.”

He went down the line, pointing at Tech.

“Tech.”

“Yes.”

“And you, the big one.”

“Wrecker.”

“Hunter,” Hunter sighed.

“Figure it out yourself,” Crosshair answered.

His Weequay guard took offense, and shoved his blaster against his head. Crosshair grunted, being forced to bend over the table.

“Stop that—that nonsense,” Hondo ordered. “I’m trying to befriend them, not torture them.”

“Last time I checked friends don’t sell each other for drugs,” Hunter commented.

“Then you must not have any good friends, my boy.” He gestured at Crosshair, shoving what had survived his wild gesturing with his fork into his mouth, chewing roughly. “Now, come, tell me your name.”

Crosshair glared, eyes showing that if he had a rifle Hondo would probably be shot directly in between the eyes, not even a millimeter off.

“Crosshair,” he spat.

“See, was that so hard? So, you four, you’re different. Not regular clones.”

Crosshair crossed his arms, and joked, “Oh, what gave that away?”

Wrecker, not picking up on the joke (and it had taken Tech a few seconds, and if his calculations were correct Hunter had been able to understand it a whole five point four seconds earlier than him), said, “I am really big.”

Hondo sniffed. “Yes, you are. What are they feeding you?”

“Rations.”

“Enough of this,” Hunter said. “Just take us to your ship and sell us if that’s what you’re going to do. We are not your friends, we have no desire to have any sort of relationship with you. I don’t know what spice you’re snorting to delude yourself into thinking you’re the good guy here, but get your head out of the clouds. I’ve had enough of these games.”

“Games,” Hondo guffawed.

Two Weequay returned at that moment with a bottle of alcohol, and Hondo grabbed it, popped the cork, and started drinking

“Ah, that’s better,” he commented; passing it to his pet; who, to Tech’s surprise; drank it quite heartily. Hondo leaned in, and Tech was reminded of the predators that drew their prey in with pretty colors, or bright lights, and then they struck. Hondo wasn’t stupid. “I do not play games,” he intoned, voice low, lethal. “If you don’t want to eat with me you can go be locked up in the barracks for all I care. I’m taking this ship with me. I can leave you in the care of these fine gentlemen.” He gestured to the Weequay behind them. “Now go. I’m going to finish my lunch.”

“And get drunk,” Crosshair commented in a low voice.

He was lightly smacked with the blaster, and he growled, rubbing at his head.

Crosshair, why can’t you keep silent sometimes?

Most times he didn’t speak much at all, but in tense situations his few words tended to easily turn a bad situation into a worse one. Crosshair lived for conflict.

Tech looked back at Hondo and his pet as they were led out of the mess hall (as if they didn’t know their own way, which made anger boil in Tech’s chest amidst the cold shock he realized he’d been feeling), studying him.

There was a way to crack him. There had to be.

~~~~~

“Do we have any grenades?” Wrecker asked, looking around at the four of them and then eyeing the guards.

Crosshair sighed, and leaned back against a bunk. “Does it look like we have grenades?”

“Um…”

“Crosshair, leave him alone,” Hunter said. “He’s just brainstorming.

“Yeah, that,” Wrecker agreed.

“Well do it quieter or we’re all in trouble,” Tech murmured, not taking his eyes from the scuffed deck. Currently, if he tried to look and understand people’s faces he’d lose his train of thought entirely.

His fingers tapped against his thigh, and he desperately wished to feel the keys of his datapad against the pads of his fingers instead of his trousers. His fingers almost itched, but deep. It was highly uncomfortable.

But he was thinking.

Script.

He needed to script something. He needed to talk to Hondo.

Without informing the others what he was doing (why would he need to? They’d find out soon enough) Tech stood, turning to the guards. Two of them pointed their blasters at him, but Tech was unfazed by it at this point. If you’re going to use them, use them. Don’t just use them as a prop.

“Tech, what are you doing?” Hunter asked, almost getting to his feet.

Tech waved a hand, telling him to stay where he was.

“Excuse me,” Tech said, “but may I have my datapad back?”

“What, so you can contact someone for help?”

Tech rolled his eyes. “That is not actually what it’s for.” Though I’m sure with some tuning I can give it that capability.

“I don’t know,” one of the guards said to the other. “Maybe he’s got some plan. Could use it as a weapon, perhaps.”

Another roll of his eyes.

He wanted to check his recordings, and make notes. That was all.

He pushed his goggles higher up his nose, then crossed his arms, jutting one hip out. “Do you even know what a datapad is?”

The guard just hefted his blaster at him. So that was a no then.

Typical. There was no way he could properly explain himself to someone who apparently did not care to utilize his brain.

“Fine,” Tech bit out. “Can I at least have flimsi, and a pen?”

“What for? To craft an escape plan?”

“No, I want to have my thoughts in order for when I speak to Hondo.”

“Hondo’s busy.”

“Oh, I suppose being drunk is an occupation now?” Tech quipped.

“Tech,” Hunter said, tone full of warning.

Right. Too much snark.

He pushed his goggles up his nose again.

“Please,” he said. “I’ll let you look over anything I write down. If you find anything suspicious you can get rid of it, or report it to Hondo, or whatever else you want to do with it.”

“Just flimsi and a pen?”

Tech nodded.

“Fine, but sit back down or you’ll find out what getting stunned feels like.”

Tech turned with a sigh. “I already know that well enough,” he informed them, somewhat under his breath so he wouldn’t start anything. To think they didn’t take him seriously. They just saw a teenager, not someone who had been in training his entire life.

A guard was ordered to go get him the flimsi and the pen, leaving them with just three of them instead of four. Hmm… He hadn’t planned on him and his squad outnumbering the guards in the room, but he wondered if they could also use that to their advantage.

Hunter seemed to notice. “What are you planning?” he whispered, leaning in. “You know I have—”

“Yes, I am aware,” Tech uttered quickly, not wanting them to be overheard, especially about Hunter still having his vibroblade.

These guards were sloppy for even allowing them to talk. If Tech were in charge he would have bound and gagged all of them, and separated them for good measure. He supposed it was good he wasn’t.

“I just want to talk to Hondo,” Tech said, “and get him to talk to the Kaminoans. I’m sure they’d pay more for us than whatever Hondo is getting from his employer.”

“But we’re just an experimental unit,” Hunter said. “Any of us could be decommissioned at any time. How are we worth anything?”

Tech glanced at him, raising an eyebrow to show he found his words slightly ridiculous. “Yes, we’re an experimental unit, but look how far we’ve come, how many tests we’ve aced, how we work as a team. They’re not getting that from the regs.”

He must have spoken louder than intended because Crosshair said, “You got that right.”

“Yep,” Wrecker agreed, leaning back against a bunk, arms behind his head.

“While we’re four on three,” Crosshair began, “or five on three if you count Wrecker twice, we could overpower them.”

“And then what?” Tech asked him. “We’re still on a ship with mostly dead clones taken over by a pirate. We’d have to seize the cockpit, figure out our coordinates, and probably fight our way out of here as we’re hounded by Hondo and his men.”

“Sounds fun,” Wrecker commented.

“I want to try talking first,” Tech said.

“What, scared of a little action?” Crosshair teased.

Tech readjusted his goggles so Crosshair could easily see his glare. “You know I’m not.”

“Stow it,” Hunter said. “If we’re going to act now we don’t have much time.”

“Well, we could release Ven and Blight,” Tech said. “They could help us.”

“Are we doing this then?” Wrecker asked, leaning in.

Hunter looked to Tech, the one who had had a different plan to begin with, and though Tech was a bit disappointed he couldn’t try his plan, he saw that time was running out. Change was an inevitable fact of life, he kept telling himself. And yet, it still stung a bit. He figured if his mind didn’t work so abnormally fast this would be more of a problem. He nodded.

Hunter flashed some hand signals, which Wrecker studied with confusion.

Crosshair leaned in and whispered, “He says we’re attacking on three. You take the guard by the door.”

Wrecker cracked his neck.

The guard Tech was assigned was behind him. He didn’t watch him, just watched Hunter’s fingers, waiting for the signal.

Three.

Two.

One.

They all stood as one.

‘Hey, what are you doing?”

“Sit back down, you little shabs.”

Wrecker cracked his knuckles, laughing. Having had a recent quick, and painful, growth spurt, Wrecker towered over them.

“Who are you calling little?”

Tech charged his guard, the others going after theirs. Wrecker easily dispatched his; Hunter sliced at the wrists of his, grabbing the blaster; and Crosshair had wrestled his to the ground (he was winning). Tech went in low to avoid the blaster, and he used his weight to lean against him, and then twirl, the angles and shifting of his body throwing the guard across the room, where he tripped over Wrecker who had stooped down to grab a blaster.

Just as Wrecker was about to whack him in the head, Tech had the blaster in his hands, and fired, not exactly remembering if this was set to stun or not.

It was, and he nearly hit Wrecker.

“Hey!” Wrecker cried.

“Sorry.”

Hunter stunned his screaming and bleeding guard almost carelessly, and Tech was suddenly so very glad he wasn’t ever going to be Hunter’s enemy.

After quickly surveying the room Hunter said, “Let’s move.”

As they were leaving the barracks they ran into the guard with the flimsi and the pen.

He stood slack-jawed.

“Sorry about that,” Tech said, gesturing at what he held. Then he stunned him.

“Should we split up?” Crosshair asked as they once again traversed the passageways. “We need to find Ven and Blight.”

“Wrecker, go with Crosshair. Check the port side. Tech and I’ll check starboard. We meet up at the cockpit, ready to fight. Now move!”

They separated flawlessly, and went on their search.

Hunter paused in one passageway after they’d just shot up a bunch of Weequay (settings thankfully on stun [Tech figured he was going to have to get over this issue with killing at some point in his life]).

“What is it?” Tech asked, panting a little from how fast they were moving and taking out enemies.

“This way.”

He split off from their original path, and Tech followed, trusting Hunter and his enhanced senses.

He stopped at a supply closet, and the banging coming from within was evident.

Hunter hit the button to open the door, and Ven and Blight—bound at the wrists and ankles—practically fell on them.

As Hunter cut their bonds, Blight commented, “We were told you guys were good, but still in training. Guess we underestimated how good.”

“Not much estimation has to be taken into account,” Tech said, fingers fiddling with nothing because he didn’t have his datapad. “The pirates seem to be lacking in intelligence. I accidentally tricked them, and then we were able to overpower them.”

“And the captain?” Ven asked.

“We still need to take care of him,” Hunter said.

Ven and Blight grabbed blasters once they’d shaken out their limbs a bit, and they let Hunter take point.

After so much training the firefights didn’t take much concentration for Tech. He supposed part of him had worried that the real deal would be too much to handle on the psyche, but he knew how to move, what to anticipate, and how to take out their enemy. Most of the fighting involved dodging stun blasts, ambushing the enemy because Hunter knew where they were before anyone else, and firing at targets who didn’t have many places to hide.

Tech was sweating a bit, and panting by the time they made it to the cockpit. Hondo was waiting for them, the Weequay probably having commed about their escape.

Crosshair and Wrecker had made it there first, and were in a bit of a standoff.

“Well, well, well, boys, I can’t say I didn’t expect this. You know what your issue is?”

“I’m assuming you’re going to tell us,” Hunter said.

“You’re too stubborn. You can’t be good little captives and stay locked up. And to think I had offered to share a meal with you. So rude!”

“Capturing us is rude,” Wrecker argued.

Seeing that the standoff was going nowhere, and probably wouldn’t proceed for some time, Tech strolled right up to Hondo, up to his stupid, annoying pet, and ripped the datapad from its claws.

“I’ll take that.”

“See what I mean?” Hondo said, gesturing. “Taking my property.”

Tech didn’t bother to argue, and just rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll just stun all of you,” Hondo said. He waved to his men. “Take them out.”

“Wait,” Tech cried as blasters were raised in earnest now. “There can be a diplomatic solution to this.”

“I already told you the Kaminoans cannot pay higher than what I’m already getting paid to capture you.”

“Then think about why we need to be captured,” Tech said.

Hondo laughed, as did the other pirates. He walked up to Tech, grabbing his chin.

“You’re valuable to someone,” Hondo explained, “and that’s all I need to know.”

Tech pulled away, and wanted to spit in disgust. “Then we’re surely valuable to the Kaminoans. Think about it. We look different, we had this substantial escort—we’re worth a lot of money.”

“Can they pay in spice?”

“Yes.”

“Tech,” Hunter warned.

Hondo let out a big sigh. “Look at all this work you’re making me do, and for no reason! Fine, fine, fine. I will talk with the Kaminoans. But only after you get restrained in the cockpit. So no funny business.”

The cockpit door opened as he made to step in, and Tech saw a massive, circular ship through the viewport (probably Hondo’s), and then a smaller golden ship that could probably only fit one passenger—a solar sailer perhaps? It was on approach.

“Ah,” Hondo said, freezing.

“What?” Wrecker asked.

“It would appear my employer is here to pick you up.”

“Kriff,” Hunter swore.

~~~~~

The four of them were properly restrained now, binders attached to anything bolted down, and Tech’s datapad had been confiscated once more. Ven and Blight were locked up in the cockpit with them, and when Tech looked over they were trying to discreetly free themselves from their binders.

Hondo stood before Clone Force 99, and before him was a darkly dressed man, the lines of his face, and his gray hair and beard suggesting he was in his later decades, yet he moved with a fluidity and grace Tech found himself studying. His clothes were finely tailored, it seemed, and the materials were rich despite the plainness to them.

His voice was deep, and sonorous.

“You have done well, Ohnaka.”

Hondo bowed to him, movements sloppy (perhaps purposefully so).

“Of course, Count. Four teenage boys. Wasn’t too hard.”

“The bodies and distress still lingering on this ship suggest otherwise.” He paused, looking at Tech. “What are you staring at, boy?”

“The Kaminoans can pay both of you double,” Tech said.

Hondo laughed, clapping Tech on the shoulder from where he knelt close to his side (and not by choice).

“Oh, this one. He keeps talking about payments. So ridiculous. We like to have our fun.” He pat his shoulder again, and Tech bristled, trying to throw him off.

“I am well aware what the Kaminoans would pay for all of you.”

“Tell me, is it double what you’re paying me?” Hondo asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t see how that is any of your concern, pirate.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It was.”

“That, my friend, is where you’re wrong. Anyway, four strange clones, all yours.”

“Why do you want us?” Tech asked, deciding to be as blunt as ever to cut to the heart of the situation.

The count came closer, and leaned in.

“What does that matter to you, boy?”

“I would say my future and well-being matter to me.”

“Well forget about it. Your future will belong to me now.” The count gestured to Ven and Blight, who had stopped their struggles now. “And who are these two?”

“No one important,” Hondo said.

“Good. Kill them.”

Tech’s eyes widened slightly. Hondo hesitated.

“Come now, Count, there’s already been so much death today. Why don’t we just relax, and—”

Suddenly there was a hum, and Tech was blinking against a red, glowing blade in his vision. He was dying to record the sound.

Now what is that?

“Do not test me, pirate scum.”

Hondo somehow still stepped forward, and poked the count right in the chest. “And don’t test me. You see my ship out there? I could easily have it destroy your solar sailer, leaving you at my mercy, and, Count, I am not very merciful today.”

“Then killing these two should be nothing to you.”

“Fine, fine. Kill them if you wish, but I won’t have their blood on my hands.”

A plan formulated in Tech’s mind, faster than it would in a regular mind, and he saw what he had to do, no matter how distasteful it was.

The previous fighting had ruined some of the durasteel in the cockpit, specifically the seat Tech was cuffed too. He’d noticed a small strip of metal earlier, and hoping his aim was right, he jammed his wrists into it.

It slammed home into the binders, and with some quick maneuvering, they came free.

There was no time to discuss the plan, only time for action.

He didn’t attack the count head on, not wanting to mess with what he assumed was an incredibly deadly weapon. What he did do was trip Hondo and his pet, which got him his datapad.

Hunter complained, “Tech, this is no time—”

He tapped away at it, and soon a loud screeching sound was emanating from the device. It was an animal he had recorded on one of their training missions, fascinated with how disabling the sound was if one wasn’t at least mentally prepared for it.

It dropped everyone in the room, but he knew his brothers would recover quickly.

The blade deactivated, the red hum silencing.

And the count dropped it.

It was the closest weapon, closer than a blaster, so Tech rolled, reaching for it.

The hilt was heavy and strangely curved, but he quickly got a feel for it as he stood. He found the button to activate the blade, and figuring he knew exactly what this kind of weapon did, he went to free Ven and Blight with it.

“Don’t move.”

They were still cowering from the horrible screeching noise.

But they remained still as the blade burned right through their binders. How fascinating!

Tech freed the others, and by the time the count had a hold of himself, he was sneering at Tech, standing to his full height.

“You have no idea what you are wielding, boy. Now give it here before you hurt yourself.”

“Make me,” Tech challenged, not sure where the words came from.

Bright light filled the room, crackling so loud his eardrums felt like they were going to burst. Heat zinged right towards him.

The blade caught it.

Then Tech realized what was happening. Lightning had sprung right from the count’s fingers and it had been shot towards him, and the blade had caught it, humming loudly.

He could scarcely breathe, in shock, exhilarated.

Something yanked on the hilt. He tightened his grip.

Tech didn’t quite know what the force was, but somehow knew the count was the one yanking on the hilt.

“Hold onto something!” Tech yelled.

“I’m tired of your plans!” Crosshair cried, but did as he said.

Tech didn’t have time to check if the others were okay, fighting hard against whatever yanked at the hilt.

He turned and slashed through the transparisteel, anchoring himself on the console.

Instantly the vacuum of space attempted to suck everything from the cockpit, breathable air included.

The count went rushing past him, and as he held onto the viewport, transparisteel slicing into his hands, he snarled at him. “You have no idea what kind of enemy I am.”

“I hope to see you on the battlefield, then,” Tech said, releasing the weapon towards the count with the blade activated. “If you survive.”

Hondo was sucked out too, banging into the count, who grasped at his weapon. Tech grabbed his datapad as the Kowakian monkey-lizard passed by (and he resisted the urge to give the creature a rude hand gesture). Some of the surviving Weequay were also pulled out, but not all of them.

Tech couldn’t get a gasp of air in now, getting closer and closer to the broken viewport.

He slammed a button on the console, ray shields falling down over the viewport, and he almost collapsed from the sheer lack of forces pulling on his body.

Ven and Blight quickly shot down the last of the Weequay.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ven said.

They took over piloting, and Tech brushed off his datapad.

Hunter wrapped an arm around his shoulders, congratulating him on his quick thinking.

“Well, isn’t that what I do?” he asked, not quite sure what the point of all this was. They were safe now, the ship giving a jolt as they made it to hyperspace. Ven and Blight were talking with the Kaminoans, and they were heading home. If anyone else could think as quickly as him surely they would have done it too. Tech was nothing special.

Or, he supposed he was. Otherwise, this day never would have happened.

He took a seat, trying to contemplate that.

Huh, I’m special.

For some reason that was harder for him to wrap his mind around than all the deaths. He was just Tech, and he had acted as he was supposed to. Still, it was good to see his team safe, and to know that he had gotten them to that point.

The only one not congratulating him so far was Crosshair. Crosshair just sat beside him, a toothpick in his mouth.

Tech went back to searching things on his datapad.

Eventually, Crosshair said, “Nice job.”

Tech eyed him, knowing a compliment from Crosshair was rarer than naturally occurring astatine.

He took in a deep breath, realizing just then that tension had made doing so quite difficult earlier.

It felt good.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Crosshair nudged him.

Tech smiled at his squad.

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