After a quick check at the gate asking what my business was, and a search and scan to make sure I wasn't carrying any weapons, I was allowed onto the base's public office for its reclamation operation.
I had to say, the interior looked almost exactly what Republic/Imperial bases and ships looked like in the various media I've seen back home; grey metal everywhere, lightstrips in the walls, various doors/bulkheads, those circular turbolifts, the works. I had to say, despite knowing otherwise, it kinda felt like stepping into an amusement park.
"Please take a number and seat. You'll be called up when ready," I was broken out of my thoughts by a dark-skinned man in a service uniform with a very familiar sounding voice, both from past media I enjoyed and the fact the armored guards that frisked me earlier had the same one, if slightly distorted by their helmets, sitting at a front desk.
"Right, will do, thanks Mr…" I trailed off.
"Trooper CT-2847, but don't worry about remembering it," the clone said in an even tone.
"Oh… would it be wrong to call you 'CT' for short, or would that be confusing?" I asked curiously, knowing for a fact this clone most likely had a name but being aware they were unlikely to share it with a civilian.
"Just address me as Trooper if you need something, but my commanding officer should be available shortly since we don't have many walk-ins today," the clone informed me. "Just take a seat till then."
"Right, will do, thanks," I said a literal awkwardly as I took my seat in the little lobby area, instantly finding the metal chairs uncomfortable as I pulled out my datapad and decided to do some browsing while I waited.
Dantooine didn't have a very well-developed HoloNet, and its connection to the wider galactic one wasn't the greatest, but it did have some games and other minor things to pass time with. I'd have to do a dive into the kinda media this universe had at some point, especially during long rides through hyperspace, in the future to see what I could find that I would like. Considering how old the setting was I was sure to find something, even with Imperial censorship I knew was likely already starting up.
Looking around, I found the clone receptionist, since I had no idea how to read military ranks, was right about there being few others around, and most of them looked like your typical citizen/farmer. Made me curious what they were in here about, but not enough to actually talk and approach anyone.
Being transported to another universe did not suddenly make me a social butterfly, with only pragmatism making me even be here at all.
Thankfully, in the end I barely had to wait an hour before my number was called up and I was allowed into the Reclamation Center's supervisor office, the door whooshing open as I approached.
First thing that stuck out was that the man was obviously not a clone, just your average light skin human with short brown hair in a grey officer uniform that was going through his computer before noticing me and sighing to himself. Apparently he either found these meetings beneath him or just plain annoying.
"Be aware that this is not the place to place forward your complaints about Imperial forces disrupting your farmlands, herds, or any other insignificant issue you have come today about. So, if that is why you are here, you can leave now or I can have security escort you out," the man stated without even looking at me.
Wow, it apparently didn't take long for assholes to apparently infest the Empire's office corps. Still, I had enough common sense not to say that out loud to his face.
"I'm actually here to get a salvaging license?" I said instead. "I was told I needed one if I wanted to recover any war material from the nearby battlefield to turn in back here for credits."
"Ah, another 'metal farmer' then. Well, at least that falls under my department, as ill-fitting as it is for one my station," the officer said, finally turning away from the terminal to address me. "I am Lieutenant Ellher, commanding officer of this Reclamation Center. Might I guess in assuming you have yet to receive a Chain code?"
Yeah, the Empire's form of civilian ID, and a means to record everyone they could. I was well aware that Palpy wasted no time in wanting to monitor and track all of his subjects as soon as possible to better control them.
"Well, yeah, but I was told-"
"As expected," the lieutenant cut me off. "Chain code registration is not a major priority on barely populated backwaters such as here, so for now we are not requiring its need to receive a salvaging license, but be aware that might change in the near future. Also be aware it is a serious crime to attempt to transport any salvaged military material off world, attempt to make use of it, or sell it to an unauthorized third party. Doing any of this will put you in violation of Imperial law and you will be detained. Furthermore, the Empire takes no responsibility for any injuries or deaths you might sustain in the effort of salvaging abandoned war material, be it from said material, hostile local wildlife, nor criminal action. You will be paid a certain amount of credits per pound of recovered material and no more. Now, go to the front desk to fill out the information for your license. You are dismissed."
"Oh, that's it, cause I had a few-"
"Direct all your questions to the front desk. Dismissed," the man said with finality.
I took the hint and left his office shortly after, his door whooshing behind me the second I stepped out.
"Jeeze, that dude is a prick," I muttered to myself as I made my way over to the front desk clone again. "Hey, I was told to come over here to fill stuff out for my salvaging license?"
"Oh, so that's what you are here for," the clone said as he turned to his computer and started clicking away at it. "I'll need your name, date of birth, planet of origin, and other personal information such as that."
Huh, my name? Weird, I just realized I hadn't introduced myself to anyone since I got to his universe, even after I got my PUT so I could talk to people.
Granted, I didn't really want to give the Empire my actual name, and in fact I might need to rely on many in the future, so I decided to make one up. After all, new universe, new name, right?
"Nick," I said, using a simple one. "Nick… Claus. Yeah, that's me!"
"And the rest?" The clone asked as he typed in my, in hindsight, stupid name.
"Uhhh, that's a bit tricker since my homeworld does time differently… and it's even more of a backwater than Dantooine…" I tried to explain.
"I'll help you out to make it as accurate as possible, take your time," he said, instantly proving himself way more likeable than his commanding officer.
"Thanks!"
It took some time, but eventually we were able to fill out my license information to a decent amount, got my picture taken, and my license freshly printed out and handed to me. It looked kinda like a sci-fi looking driver's license, giving me permission to basically pick up garbage and turn it in for money at a 'designated facility'.
"These are the coordinates of the battlefield and your salvage range. The drop off location for salvage is on the side near a loading bay," the clone explained to me after updating my datapad and handing me my license. "It's open most of the day until late evening and opens early in the morning, so be sure to turn any you find in around those times. I recommend dropping off whatever you got each day before closing so you don't have to worry about keeping an eye on a pile of salvage and possibly being fined for 'improper storage'."
"Will do," I said as I pocketed my license. "Do I need to worry about someone trying to steal my haul?"
"In the city, very unlikely, but outside its borders it's less certain, so I recommend having some protection and backup if you can find it. License means only you can turn salvage in, but that doesn't mean you can't recruit others to work with you and split the take afterwards however you like," he shrugged. "Besides, old clankers, even the B1s, can be pretty heavy. Also helps discourage some of the more dangerous wildlife from thinking you are dinner with more bodies around."
"Good to know, thanks," I nodded in thanks. "Anything else I should be aware of?"
"Well…" the clone looked towards his commander's office for a moment, and seeing it was still closed leaned forward a little bit. "If you find any bodies of any troopers out there… we'd really appreciate you turning them in if you can, but I can't say you'll earn anything from it besides their armor and equipment."
"There isn't a turn-in rate for fallen soldiers?" I asked curiously, but not surprised.
"No. Officially clone soldiers are marked as 'equipment', but since unlike droids, guns, and armor they can't be recycled and broken down for material, there is no incentive for it to be collected," the clone explained in a slightly sad tone of voice. "I know it's a bit much, since it's extra weight you need to transport you won't get any credits out of, but my brothers and I would appreciate it a lot. Kriff, if you can just find their ID tags, that would likely be enough for-"
"I'll do it, no problem," I interrupted, surprising him.
"You sure?"
"Hey, it's the least I can do for the brave soldiers who helped win the war," I said in all honesty. "I'm sure you'll send them off better than anyone else could anyhow."
"I… thank you," he nodded. "I'll let those at the drop-off site know ahead of time, so you can drop everything off at once."
"Thanks," I nodded before turning around. "Whelp, better get to work. Those credits won't earn themselves."
"Hey!" he called back to me, making me quickly turn around.
"Yeah?" I asked back curiously.
"Its Digit, my… unofficial designation," the now named Digit explained. "Just so you know."
"Thanks! I was getting kinda tired referring to you as just 'clone' in my head," I said as I waved him off. "See ya, Digit."
"You as well, Nick."
And with that lighthearted moment, I headed out of the base and towards my parked speeder, thinking about the logistics and stuff I will need to do a decent job salvaging stuff to make a decent amount of money everyday. As the old saying went, you had to spend money to make money.
Also, it helped me not think dark thoughts like; how many innocent Jedi did Digit possibly kill?
I felt a lot of empathy for the clones as a whole, being born and bred to be tools for a larger evil plot and eventually thrown away, but I also couldn't ignore that each one was a trained killer that would totally gun me down if ordered to.
In this galaxy, if you wanted to be kind, you had to be smart about it. Which is why endearing myself to local clones was both the right thing and might just help me out in the short-term.
Either way, I was gonna have to think over a lot of things to figure out the best way to survive and eventually do more than that.
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AN: Clones are awesome... but important to remember at this time that most are being mentally conditioned to follow orders, no matter how horrible, just further making them dangerous victims in this galaxy. So, why not make friends when you can since who knows when you might be able to count on some perfect soldiers to help you?