Chapter Text
They wheeled the unconscious man into the room, his body completely decimated by the explosion which for all intents and purposes should have killed him. I did not think as I began working, piecing together the broken man laid out on my table.
“Who is he,” I asked the droid who had delivered the body, as I worked. My hands never once slowed as I pieced together man and electronic. Fusing the body with the metal alloy pieces I had been provided with. I sighed as I noticed that there was not a single bone in his body that was fully intact.
“Classified,” the droid snapped at me. I rolled my eyes, but turned back to my work. I began attaching the electrodes to the artificial spine I had been provided. I noted that the tech was not designed for comfort and sighed, quickly adjusting the prosthetics in an attempt to make them more bearable for the man I was working on. Whoever he was, he did not deserve to wake up to a lifetime of suffering.
Moving quickly so the droid would not notice my adaptations, I cut down the length of the prosthetic, ensuring that he would have mostly free movement. I was a scientist, not a torturer.
Looking down upon my work, I noticed that at one point the man was likely a very attractive man, his chiseled cheekbones telling me that he likely had women all over him in another life. I pushed the thought from my head, however, knowing that I was running out of time. I needed to finish before my supervisor returned if I was going to ensure the comfort modifications would be unnoticed.
Stitching the man back together, I sighed and began dragging his cot towards the waiting tank. Carefully, I loaded the man, who was beginning to groan as the anesthetic wore off, into the tank, attaching the various nozzles and cables to his body. I sighed once again as I closed the door on him.
This nameless man was only the latest of the individuals brought to our lab for “modification” and I was beginning to grow concerned as to where they were getting the participants. I knew that many were enemies of the Confederacy, but was often barred from learning of their true identities or speaking to them outside of my daily rotations.
“Doctor,” the droid approached me quickly, it’s tan plating flashing under the artificial lights of the lab. “Your presence has been requested.” I nodded once, brushing my hands on the stark white lab coat I had been provided. We walked briskly through the halls, towards the offices. I sighed, knowing that I would likely leave this meeting irritated and further overworked.
Wat Tambor was turned away from me as we entered the office. The chrome of his Armor, revealed nothing as he turned to face me. For a moment, we stood in uncomfortable silence, simply eyeing one another.
“I have been informed that you requested the identity of your most recent patient,” he snapped towards me, his tone brisk as always. I nodded once, wishing this conversation would end as abruptly as it started.
“I like knowing who I am putting my life’s work into,” I responded when it became evident that Tambor was not in a particularly giving mood. “I was told that only the elite would receive my technology, yet it appears as though the Confederacy of Independent Systems is content utilizing it on any man they can scavenge.” The man tisked at this, a near laugh coming from his concealed face.
“You may refer to your newest patient as 1409,” he responded, finally giving me something to work with. “He is to be taken out of stasis once daily for interview and interrogation. We need to know everything about him>” I nodded at this. My technology was meant to project consciousness into technology, but I knew better than to argue.
“Who will be conducting these interviews,” I snapped. “I am already under-”
“As part of your duties, you will be dealing with all aspects of this project,” Tambor appeared to grow irritated at my slight huff at this. “The greatest discretion is necessary.”
“Has my supervisor been informed,” I asked, suddenly realizing that I was not the senior most scientist on this project to begin with. Surely there was someone higher up who could take on 1409.
“Regrettably, all other scientists were found to be incapable in this case, your pay and title will be adjusted accordingly,” tambor was already turning away from me again. I nearly smiled when I realized what he meant. I was finally in control of my own research.
I turned on my heel, already excited to return to my newest project.1409 would be awake shortly and I could begin intake, perhaps even figure out who he was and why he had been chosen to become a part of the mainframe.
Reentering my lab, I noticed that the man was moving slightly in his stasis chamber and quickly pulled up a blank document on my datapad. I approached the tank slowly, knowing that the man would likely need a moment to adjust before beginning to speak to me.
“Where am I,” he snapped, seeing me approach.
“My name is Doctor (Y/N),” I said slowly, carefully annunciating each syllable. I was unsure how well he spoke the common tongue, and wanted to make sure he understood me. “You were brought here after you were injured.”
“What’s wrong with your voice,” he was growing more irritated according to his vital readings. That could become bad and I quickly took note of the spike.
“I need some information about you,” I spoke more quickly now, realizing that he was likely fairly educated from the way he was comprehending me.
“You first.”
“I have already told you my name, can I have yours?”
“You’re not Republic,” he observed, eyeing me slightly. I shook my head at this. An enemy of the Confederacy as always.
“I am not,” I confirmed, watching as the man visibly recoiled despite the fact he could barely move. That was odd. “May I have your name?”
The man remained silent, his eyes watching me as I slowly moved closer to the tank. I maintained eye contact with him, attempting to convey my sincerity without speaking. I tilted my head slightly at him as I noticed that his mental signal was completely silent. The technology I had attached to him should have been recording every single firing of his neural signals.
Instead, the screen was completely flat, only the barest of activity, showing me that he was in fact thinking, though the signal was far too weak to trace or extract any data from.
“I am going to check your vitals,” I explained, approaching him once again. The man continued to glare, his lips shut tightly. I began reading off his heart rate and temperature readings. He was perfectly fine, all things considered, however, his brain activity was beginning to concern me.
“I am going to be putting you into stasis shortly,” I explained, hoping beyond all reason that he would give me anything to work with. Instead I was met once again with stubborn eyes. “I need your name for your file.”
“Or'parguur gar, Seppie,” he snapped, his accent finally clicking with me. The number finally made sense.
A trooper number.
“You may hate me, clone,” I snapped, realizing who I was dealing with. Or rather what I was dealing with. “But I am the only one keeping you alive at the moment.”
“Wish you wouldn’t,” he snapped as stasis finally took hold. I held my breath as his eyes finally dropped closed. With a sigh, I collapsed into my desk chair, watching as his brain scanner began to pick up the very edges of a dream. He had been fighting valiantly against my tech, I realized. He had somehow managed to make his mind entirely blank in his distrust of me.
With a sigh, I realized that I had been handed a near impossible task. Getting information from a clone was next to impossible, when they were unharmed. I had a hostage, injured, clone to contend with. I would be lucky if I ever even so much as learned his nickname.
“Echo.” The brain scan read off. I quickly jotted the word down, wondering what it could possibly have to do with the man before me.