1x16 Kamino Lost (2)

[7.8/10] When people think of Star Wars, they tend to think about pretty simple morality. There’s the dark side, which is bad, and there’s the light side, which is good. Pretty simple, right? Brave Jedi knights fight evil Sith. Simple as that.

But then you get to Return of the Jedi and learn that there’s some of the dark side in the best heroes. Luke starts the movie clad in black and uses the force choke on some of his foes. He has to stop himself from losing control when the bad guys threaten his sister in the throne room. Good is suddenly not so simple.

And, of course, you learn that there’s some of the light in our most imposing villains. In the signature moment of the Skywalker saga, Luke redeems his father. Vader deposes his master. Even the scary antagonist whose pursued our heroes from the beginning of the franchise has good in him. The world is more complicated than all that.

The finale of The Bad Batch’s strong first season revels in that complexity. There is no villain in “Kamino Lost”, merely the threat of collapse and the need to escape. The lines of good and evil are washed away, as all members of Clone Force 99, past and present, must work together to make it out. There are no bad guys or good guys, just people who’ve made different choices and, for that matter, brothers.

It’s a bold choice for a season finale. “Return to Kamino” was the more traditional Star Wars ending. There was combat and a malevolent admiral doing terrible things. Blaster fire was exchanged and momentous changes happened. It plays as the explosive climax of the season.

But “Kamino Lost” simplifies the plot elements, to leave room for the psychological elements to flourish. The goal here is simple: get out of Kamino before the city collapses. The set pieces that follow are exciting and creative. Writer Jennifer Corbet and company come up with sharp, visually interesting obstacles for the Bad Batch to overcome.

The collapse of the main city requires the team to traverse the transport tunnels in the hopes of returning to The Marauder. The combination of down power circuits and the bone-chilling comps of a sea monster make the journey that much more tense and perilous. Another broken exit point requires more ingenuity. To reach their ship, Clone Force 99 must seal themselves in medical pods, while Omega explodes the protective glass holding back flood waters and AZ-3 steers them to the surface.

There is grand symbolism and poetry in all of this. The thing that saves the Bad Batch turns out to be the human-sized test tubes where they were grown. The imagery lists toward rebirth. As the place that was their home and birthplace sinks into the sea, they emerge from its wreckage. They reach the surface once more, now with the freedom to go wherever the winds take them, to make whatever choices move them, or haunt them.

It’s telling, too, that the death scare here comes primarily with AZ-3. At one point Hunter warns Crosshair that to the Empire, he’ll always just be a number. AZ-3 grappled with the same issue with Fives, the sense in which both droids and clones were property, arguably even chattel, to the Jedi, the Kaminoans, and the Republic writ large. His escape, rescue, and willingness to save Omega and the others at the risk of his own well being gestures toward his own humanity, venerated in his adventures in The Clone Wars but ignored by the powers that be.

But the most striking set pieces and poetic moments come from Omega rescuing Crosshair and Crosshair rescuing Omega. On the surface (no pun intended), the two couldn’t seem more different. Omega is always one for bravery and compassion, even when Hunter tells her it’s not wise. Crosshair is one to follow orders and throw his lot in with the Empire.

Yet, when Crosshair is at the point of drowning, Omega uses her creativity and gumption to free him, risking her own life in the process. It’s true to her character, to try to help those who need it, especially one of her siblings. The surprise is in Crosshair returning the favor, in a scene that teases betrayal but instead shows compassion. He saves both Omega and AZ-3, revealing that whatever tresspases he’s committed to this point, he’s not all bad.

Maybe it’s just his sense of honor. When Omega thanks him, Crosshair simply tells him they’re even. Tech writes off Crosshair in his analytical way, declaring that he’s always been unyielding and sclerotic. Wrecker is angry at Crosshair, for not returning when he could have at any time. Hunter wants to give him another chance, invites him to join them, even as the two have made choices to go down different paths. And Omega, like Luke before her, sees good in this lost family member who’s caused so much pain.

“Just because we want different things doesn’t mean we have to be enemies.” The line stands out. Morality in Star Wars has always been grayer than its reputation. We know that the Empire is a force for evil, but someone raised in war, bred to follow orders, apt to see the Imperial mandate as an extension of the Republic mission, wouldn't see things that way. We see Hunter trying to look after his squad and help those who need to be helped as a pure good, but as the last episode laid out, Crosshair can only see it as a betrayal. There is bad blood there that cannot be resolved through the exigencies of survival.

But it’s enough to bind these brothers (and sister) together despite their differences. There is light and dark in each of them. Each falters. Each struggles with the legacy left by the place now sinking beneath the waves. Each finds moments to save their fellow man despite their differences. The truth of who they are, and who we are, is more nuanced and tricky than any binary divide between good and evil could possibly account for.

The Bad Batch understands that, and this low-key, perceptive finale is the capstone to the best first season from any Star Wars animated show so far. And it’s a tribute to the complexity within each clone, suddenly faced with the ability to choose, torn away by the melancholy business of where those paths lead, but still bound to one another, in blood and in deed.