Christophsis – The Hidden Enemy

"Where are they, Jester?" Slick's voice was low and somber but Jester began shaking, the gun rag tightly gripped in his hand, his fingers white as he scoured the barrel of his blaster with jerky strokes.

"M-me-me," Jester began but Slick cut Jester's stuttered word with his own harsh voice.

"Hurry up, Jester, I don't have all day." The sergeant's aggravation was evident.

"Me-mess." The word rushed out of Jester. "Mess, s-sir."

"Very good," Slick smiled though his eyes were cold. "I knew you could do it, Jester."

He spoke as though Jester was a backwards cadet and Jester, red with shame, bowed his head to stare angrily at the black metal of his blaster under his fingers.

This stuttering was new, within the last few days. If he had ever stuttered on Kamino, it would have meant reconditioning. Jester forced himself to breathe evenly. His fingers stopped shaking and his movements became smooth on the blaster though his thoughts were still in turmoil.

After a moment, Slick turned and left their barracks. Jester had no doubt there was a smug smile on his lips but he hadn't glanced up to see. As the door closed behind Slick, Jester sobbed and leaned his forehead against the barrel of his deece.

What had happened? What was happening?

Coming out of Kamino Jester had been fourth of the six-man electronics specialty squad. Sketch had been the best of them with the highest cumulative scores of the entire squad and he was, declared their trainer, destined for great things. Sketch's brother-by-choice, Punch was almost as good and had the knack of picking up what a sergeant's second would know simply in anticipation of Sketch becoming a sergeant. Sketch laughingly always said the reason he was so good was to keep ahead of Punch.

Sketch didn't laugh as much anymore, Gus said humor wasn't a quality of a good trooper though everyone knew the words had come straight from Sergeant Slick.

Zev had been third, but he had died the first day, not even stepping on Christophsis itself but snipered as they arrived and falling from the LAAT to land in a crumpled heap of shattered, shiny armor. That had hurt, Jester and Zev had occasionally comforted each other; sometimes as lovers but more usually by simply touching or talking until long after 'lights out'. Jester regretted Zev's death far more for the friend than for the lover.

Then came Jester, fourth slot with his scores all over the place; sometimes top marks, sometime earning a frown from the trainers but a decent average. Jester always comforted himself with the thought that he hadn't pushed himself to do his best all the time.

Twenty-three had been a new addition shortly before they departed Kamino. He was a sullen, taciturn, scarred survivor and they hadn't accurately figured his placement before being assigned to Christophsis but he'd seen battle and occasionally offered good advice in spite of being so quiet so they put him ahead of Gus. He was fifth slot until the death of Zev when he'd moved up to fourth and Jester to third.

Gus had been last man. Certainly acceptable – he had passed all the tests Kamino gave – but not quite as sharp as the rest of them.

Jester thought that was ok, no one could always be better than everyone else. For all the emphasis the trainers had put on their scores, the differences between them were miniscule. And what was a squad for if not to cover for each other?

Twenty-three had moved into third slot easily enough after a week on Christophsis; he had experience and his hesitation disappeared in battle. Jester thought that if the quiet trooper had tried, he would have been first or second man but Twenty-three didn't put himself between Sketch and Punch. For a short time, the squad thought first Sketch then Twenty-three or maybe Punch would make the best second to their new sergeant. All three clones were superlative troopers though in different ways. But, somehow, Gus had been chosen.

Jester grimaced, his fingers slowing in their long strokes on the weapon. Somehow, that hadn't been right and Jester couldn't figure out why Sergeant Slick had chosen Gus. Sergeant's second was always the sergeant's choice but you wanted someone to look out for the troopers also. You wanted someone you could trust to get you out of tight spots, someone who would and could back you up. You wanted someone almost as good as your sergeant and that wasn't Gus.

Inspecting his blaster, Jester gave a nod as his lips tightened. There'd be no demerit for a dirty blaster this time. It was the first thing he did now, coming back from any type of battle or even just his daily rounds. Making sure his blaster was clean and ready for the next battle was his priority; before going to the mess, before sleep, before a visit to the head. Jester hadn't been wounded yet but if he were, he'd still clean his blaster before going to medical. Sometimes he had odd dreams of getting wounded and reaching for his blaster shouting, 'Wait, wait! I have to clean the blaster first!' as he bled over the white armor of the others. Odd dreams, though nothing like, and far better than, Twenty-three's nightmares.

Setting the weapon aside, not just on the bunk but in its case and inspection-ready, Jester cleaned up his equipment then glanced around his bunk for anything out of place; anything Sergeant Slick might decide required a demerit. Stretching the muscles of his neck and shoulders, Jester decided that he wasn't hungry but caf sounded good. He'd probably be at a table by himself. So far, the other troopers of the 212th didn't appear to be very friendly – not like it had been back in the barracks on Kamino with everyone eager and interested in new brothers and information. But maybe it was just that they'd lost only enough troopers to need replacements from Kamino and were already in groups of friends.

Or maybe it was just him they avoided.

The thought hit Jester as he walked the corridor to the mess and he paused, staring down the metal plates that substituted for a floor.

Punch and Sketch usually had opposite schedules and spent any free time together. They rarely welcomed intruders when they sat together in the mess, Twenty-three spent a lot of time doing extra duty for demerits and what the Sergeant called 'wasting time with inappropriate ideas' though Jester thought some of them were brilliant. When he wasn't standing extra duty, he sat alone in the back corner of the mess and that was where troopers went when they didn't want to be disturbed. Gus was usually shadowing Sergeant Slick or simply overseeing the troopers in Slick's stead. There wasn't a word he spoke that hadn't already been voiced by Sergeant Slick. Sometimes Jester wondered if Gus had a voice anymore.

Maybe the other troopers of the 212th did avoid him; he could see how Slick's squad might be seen as wanting privacy. Jester decided he'd ask one or two. He'd ask if they were avoiding him and the squad or did it just seem that way; and if they were avoiding him, then why? Maybe it was just something as innocuous like timing or thinking someone else had made friendly overtures.

As he made his way to the mess with curiosity burning in him to know the answer to his query, the new commander of the 212th gave orders over his helmet's comm unit. "Slick's squad, report immediately to quarters."

Rumor had it that Christophsis wasn't proceeding as quickly the Senate wished. Jester could have told them it was because they hadn't had a commander or captain, both troopers killed before he and the others had arrived, and their Jedi general hadn't really understood how military operations should go or how to inspire human troopers; how they'd only been a security force for the refugee camp with no clear-cut battlefield orders. Now they had a human Jedi general and a brother clone commander. Jester was optimistic that things would change very soon.

The planned attack from the two towers had been a good plan and only bad luck had ruined it. Although seeing the tactical droid on the roof had made Jester's mind pause and take another turn. Seeing that droid as Twenty-three tackled and rip off its head had whispered something in the back of Jester's mind.

It wasn't a good whisper, either.

Jester sighed and turned back towards the barracks. No caf or answers just yet. He hoped it wouldn't take too long – whatever it was the new commander wanted. More importantly, he hoped he could stay out of notice.

While Jester was glad they'd gotten a good commander, Sergeant Slick had told him Commander Cody was already going through trooper records, preparing to cull the k'atinis from the 212th. Slick's measured look at Jester said he expected Jester to be one of the culls.

Jester wondered what happened to the inferior troopers. Were they sent back to Kamino for reconditioning? Given additional training? Sent off to another – less exacting – commander, someone with more lenient standards? Jester wondered when he'd gone from being third to being last in the squad; from being acceptable to being cull-worthy.

That had been the day he had started stuttering.

Not wanting to be the first trooper in the room under the exacting eyes of Commander Cody, Jester moved slowly down the hall back to the barracks. Unusually, Twenty-three.., Jester shook his head; he had named himself Chopper not too long ago. Chopper was first back and gave Jester a nod. Jester gave him a tentative half-smile; it appeared Chopper was in a – for him – good mood. He usually was when he took a souvenir and this time he'd gotten a droid head. Not that he'd been able to keep that but it had been a magnificent move and Jester knew he'd also gotten something else.

There was a slight, contemptuous snort behind Jester and he slowed even more, allowing sergeant's second to move ahead of him.

Gus was no better than he'd been back on Kamino; when had he become better than Jester?

With a defeated sigh, Jester moved behind Gus and caught the movement of Punch and Sketch as they fell in behind him, not caring where they ended in the line of clones as long as they were together.

"No way they're capable of something like this." Sergeant Slick was speaking to Commander Cody and Captain Rex of the 501st, his voice pleading. The two officers had stern, hard faces

This didn't look good but it didn't seem like a conversation about winnowing the troops.

"Something like what?" Gus interrupted, as if he was a sergeant in his own right.

Slick glanced at the men of his squad. "You called them here?"

"Of course we did. We're getting to the bottom of this. Now." That was Captain Rex, head of the 501st and already developing into a legend among the clones after the tactics at Anoth and Bakura. He sounded like a hard trooper and Jester was sure there were no inferior clones in his company.

"Look, let me have a few minutes with them first. It's going to hit them hard…" Slick said in a low voice that went quieter.

"I don't think that's necessary. Your men are tough, right?" Commander Cody walked the line of men and Jester froze for a moment. Maybe it was about culling unacceptable troopers. He could feel his heart race. He'd been good once; the bad scores had been because he'd gotten bored with training, because he was trying new and different tactics in the relative safety of training instead of waiting until he was actually in the field. He was good on the battlefield; he'd point that out to Commander Cody and ask – beg – for another chance. He wanted a good commander and Cody was reputed to be one of the best.

"Take a seat, gentlemen."

Jester, terrified as the Commander's eyes moved over him, moved to his bunk. He'd feel safer with his back against the wall. It wouldn't help if he was being culled but he'd feel safer.

"We have a turncoat in our midst," said Cody, "and we think it's one of you."

Jester looked down at the cement floor as he rubbed one hand over his other. That couldn't be right, Jester's brows drew down and his hand ached. He'd been fighting the wall again yesterday, not understanding why Slick had taken them to some makeshift civilian bar and done what he'd done to Chopper.

A turncoat? A traitor? That didn't make any sense but at least it wasn't about being culled. Jester thought it through. A traitor? Not Sketch or Punch because then there'd be two traitors and you couldn't keep secrets like that. Not Chopper, for all that he was hurt and angry and picked up a few metal bits from the battlefield. Certainly not him. And that left only Gus or…

Jester glanced up, wondering what Slick's expression was and started in surprise when it was the captain of the 501st standing in front of him with Commander Cody at his side; both clones looking at him with harsh expectation.

"I… I don't know. I was doing the things I always do after a mission." Jester's right hand rubbed over his left fist as that stutter escaped. His hand hurt more than it should, more than the other times and he wondered if he should have seen one of the medics, wondered how many bones he'd broken this time.

"Things like what?" Rex stared at him. It was like staring into a mirror after battle. No mercy, no quarter; the captain's pupils were angry pinpricks in the brown of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a little nervous." His eyes slid to the commander in dented armor with scratched yellow marks, marks Jester admired because they meant experience. "You're my C.O."

"Well, way I figure it, you tell the truth you've got nothing to be nervous about." The 501st captain's logic was reasonable, but Jester knew he'd stutter the next word and he pressed his lips tightly together.

Sergeant Slick yelled at him for the stutter. What would an angry captain do? What would his new commander do?

He'd be culled, rejected, and sent back to Kamino for sure.

"Jester is telling the truth." Sketch broke in and Jester almost passed out in relief.

"He cleans his weapon after every mission," Sketch continued. "First thing, every time. He's kind of obsessed that way."

"Is that right? You were cleaning your weapon?" asked Cody. He looked almost kind.

"Yes sir." Jester nodded as a knot in his throat loosened and his shoulders relaxed.

"Go on the computer while you were in here?" That was Cody again and it was a simple question. Cody waited for his answer.

"No sir. I didn't even power it up." Jester gestured vaguely toward the machine without moving his eyes from Commander Cody's face. "You can check."

Don't cull me! Please, give me a chance.

"Show me your weapon," commanded Cody, holding out his hand and Jester confidently lifted the battle-ready blaster for inspection. Cody ran his fingers over the barrel.

Jester polished his blaster constantly. He had received a demerit for a dirty weapon from Slick almost as they'd left the battlefield, then another for insubordination when he had questioned the demerit. Commander Cody wouldn't find a dirty weapon.

"Yep. Freshly scrubbed." Cody glanced at Rex.

"The rag's over there in the corner." Jester gave a nod of his head toward the rag bin.

"Good man." said Cody as he handed back the weapon and Jester straightened at the praise, ready to follow this commander where ever he led.

Cody turned from Jester toward Punch and Sketch. "You, you were cleaning your weapon too?" He had gestured at Punch.

"No, I was hungry. I went back to the mess." Punch replied almost insolently.

Jester realized his questions were done for the moment though he knew there would be more until the traitor was discovered. They had to be wrong about a traitor in the squad and that would mean more questions, more details to go over.

Slick's interruption caught Jester's attention. "Captain, give me just a moment with them."

Jester frowned; that wasn't something Slick would normally say.

"No, it's okay sarge." Gus shifted slightly. "I've got nothing to hide. I was in the infirmary. Got banged up pretty good by one of those clankers. Med droid was fixing me up."

Jester shook his head. First Punch then Gus showing no respect to either the Commander or the Captain. He wanted to explain that their informality came from Sergeant Slick usually being informal around his squad but Jester remembered that Slick was never informal with him. Slick was strict in the rules with him, with Chopper; sometimes with Sketch and sometimes not. He was only relaxed and informal with his second and with Punch; sometimes with Sketch but Sketch couldn't count on it and had learned to never be relaxed around the sergeant.

Cody and Rex moved in front of Chopper on his rack. Chopper had one leg on his bunk, one on the floor, his head slightly down with that blank expression on his face, leaning against the wall… waiting, like so often, for a demerit.

"So, Chopper, old boy…"

Jester frowned as the 501st captain used Slick's favorite words. Don't do that, Captain, whispered Jester, although possibly only in his own mind.

"I was in the mess hall."

Jester knew Chopper spent every off-duty moment in the mess except when he wandered into the barracks late to roll into his rack. Chopper avoided them all, especially Sergeant Slick, particularly after the incident at the bar.

"No, you weren't!" The outburst was from Sketch and Jester stood in surprise then realized Chopper would have been doing something with his new acquisition.

"You…I mean… you." Sketch stood and he looked almost apologetically at Chopper because they all knew what Chopper must have been doing. Chopper's acquisitions were no secret among the squad.

Chopper sighed. "I was hiding at the south exit. I didn't want anyone to see me string these together." He pulled the fingers from edge of bunk, three droid fingers strung on a wire.

Jester's heart twisted, as it did every time he knew Chopper had collected something else from the battlefield. What did Chopper gained from those small trinkets? Chopper gazed into the eyes of the command clones and Jester thought his face relaxed, that he was finally going to explain.

"I always knew there was something deficient about you." For a moment Jester thought it had been Slick speaking, but it was Gus.

Chopper's lips became a tight line as he turned from his rack, away from the others and set his feet to the floor. He sat on the edge of his bunk. Jester could see the side of his jaw grind in angry frustration.

"This isn't good, Chopper." Slick took a step toward Chopper and Jester stared at the sergeant, some half-hidden thought in his mind trying to be noticed. Slick sounded extraordinarily pleased.

Jester saw and knew, with terrible trepidation, how it would play out. He shook his head but no one was watching him as the drama with Chopper played on. While he knew Chopper wasn't the traitor, it was nothing he could prove.

"…taking forbidden items from a battlefield." Slick paused and Jester knew he was choosing his words with care. "I know. I put up with the attitude because you have skill."

Jester took a step forward wanting to do something. Gus, staring at Chopper, had an expression of arrogant disgust, Punch one of pity and Sketch one of pain. Jester could tell from the purr in his voice that there was triumphant satisfaction on Slick's face and he suddenly realized who the traitor was. Suddenly realized why experienced Chopper received the most demerits and punishment duties, suddenly realized why the brothers Sketch and Punch had different schedules, suddenly realized why he stuttered, and suddenly pitied Gus more than anyone he could think of, even poor dead Zev.

A clone trooper worried about what he was doing wrong wouldn't be looking at someone else. Slick had made his actions invisible to his squad.

"…your whole character's in question here," Slick continued.

"Wait, no. Hang on. I'm no spy!" Chopper faced his commander and Jester wanted Cody to listen. He wanted to say something but his voice wouldn't work. Jester's stutters had lodged in his throat and wouldn't leave his mouth.

Then Chopper spoke again, facing the sergeant. "Maybe you should talk, sir. Tell them where you went." Chopper said, confronting Slick. Slick's expression showed his surprise and Jester wondered why Slick was so shocked then remembered that Chopper had stopped showing Slick how good he really was when his only reward was extra duty.

Jester remembered the last time Chopper had shown how good a trooper he was when he won against Slick and the rest of the squad.

"It's just a friendly sparring match among the squad," Slick had said and they'd taken him at his word. The sergeant was good but not the best. In the end, it was Chopper and Sketch battling it out for supremacy with Chopper finally getting the definitive upper hand. He had smiled and promised everyone a rematch during their next training session with a rare, anticipatory chuckle. Yet before the end of the day, he'd receive three demerits from Sergeant Slick. It was one of the few conversations Chopper initiated with the squad.

"I don't think the sergeant likes being beaten." Then he'd pulled on his bucket and gone on to his punishment of night duty guarding the trash behind the kitchens from scavengers, both human and animal.

"Sergeant!" It was Commander Cody's voice with sharp scrutiny and Jester blinked as the past faded into the present.

"What did you mean, 'till the Jedi come back'?" Cody asked in hard speculation. "How did you know the Jedi were gone?

"I really wish you hadn't noticed that, sir." Slick's voice was soft and genuinely regretful. Jester didn't see what happened, but Sergeant Slick was over the bunk and out the door while both Commander Cody and Chopper were reeling back.

"It's Slick?"

"Slick's the traitor?"

Commander Cody and Captain Rex rushed out the door after Slick, and Jester realized the stuttered words no longer stuck in his throat.

Everything between all of them had changed in that instant. Gus kept looking at Chopper, confusion and guilt in his eyes. Punch opened his mouth wanting to say something, but always letting his mouth close because there was nothing to say.

"No one else knows yet." Jester's voice was soft, his hand rubbing over his fist. It hurt but maybe it wasn't as broken as he thought; maybe he wasn't as broken as he thought. He'd go to medical first thing this was all done and tell them he'd been beating a stone wall with his fist.

Maybe none of the squad was irredeemably broken.

Technically, he was the least of the squad but everything had just gone confused, like in battle when someone crucial died and some other clone had to take his place yet lacking some vital piece of information. The all looked shell-shocked. Still, he gave them the opening to lead.

Sketch supplied another thought. "Slick might…" Sketch raised his hands understanding the chaos that could ensue if Slick wasn't immediately captured and neutralized. Jester thought his next words might be some order and he was prepared to follow Sketch, prepared to say 'yes, sir, squad leader Sketch'. But Sketch only stared at Punch.

After a few moments of silent shock in the barracks, Jester spoke up. "Gus." Jester called his attention away from Chopper as he found some words. "I'll tell the deck officer about Slick. You and Chopper follow the commander and captain to assist as necessary. They won't need to explain anything to you."

Both Chopper and Gus nodded then moved out the barracks at his order.

Jester turned to Sketch and Punch. "Sketch, Punch, go to the mess and ask around; see if anyone has seen Slick, where he might be headed. But keep what happened quiet." Then Jester grabbed his helmet and was out the door giving them no chance to object to his orders.

A/N - And so we begin Jester's story; how he fared from being part of Sergeant Slick's squad, his path from Christophsis to post-Order 66.

This story is interwoven with "Scars" which has been renamed Slick's Squad (Chopper) - Scars. Jester's story will not be as long as Choppers.

At the moment, updates will be sporadic due to work constraints.

Disclaimer: Star Wars: The Clone Wars belongs to George Lucas and/or Disney. I receive no monetary compensation, only the pleasure of writing and sharing.

reulte