This story... is strange. I don't know where the idea came from, but it probably needs some explination. Basically, the empire has existed all along. It has been ordering clones from Kamino for a long time. Sidious found Anakin when he was a little kid and raised him as a Sith. He met Padme when he was eighteen and they fell in love and got married. She's a senator in the puppit Senate and sort of a Republic sympathizer, though they don't talk about that. The Republic and the Empire have been at war for a long time, with the Empire controling the Core and Midrim worlds and the Republic mainly on the Outer Rim. The Jedi are with the Republic. Sidious gave Anakin the 501st legion for his eighteenth birthday. Rex and the rest of the 501st call Anakin by his name, because he got them before he became Lord Vader. After he got his Sith name, he decided that it was just easier to have the clones call him by his old name and rank. I think that's all you need to know... maybe. Again, I have no idea where this came from, but here it is.
I do not own Star Wars.
Trooper CT-8890/456, better known as Laf to the rest of the 501st legion of the Imperial Army, slapped his hand of Sabacc down on the table with his trademark bark of amusement. "There. I win again."
Berd and Oz, two of the three clones playing with him, shared a knowing glance.
"That's five times in a row!" Trio, one of the newest members of the legion, roared indignantly. Captain Rex, watching from across the rec room, zeroed in on the potential source of trouble. He had a bad feeling about Trio. The poor guy was the sole survivor of a disastrous attack on Fondor, led by a useless mongrel general who had the bright idea to use the cannon-fodder clones as kamikaze bombers when his original half-brained plan didn't work and his escape was blocked. Trio heard every one of their dying screams over the com network. From all that level-headed Berd, whom he had assigned to watch the newbie, had said, Trio had been unbalanced by the loss of his brothers. He was prone to random fits of destructive rage that Rex guessed where more a sign of helplessness and grief than any real anger. Still, if he couldn't take a laugh-
Berd and Oz forcibly stood Laf up and patted him down.
Trio's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So you're a cheat," he accused, voice too low for Rex's liking.
Idiot Laf, of course, didn't take the hint. "Maybe I'm just the best Sabacc player in the IA," he retorted.
"Yeah, and I'm a Force-user," Oz snorted. "Stow it."
Berd produced a sheaf of cards from Laf's sleeve. "Oops," he said sarcastically, fanning them under Laf's nose. "How'd they get there?"
Laf was already grinning sheepishly-the moron. His antics were all well and good; they kept his brothers on their toes and kept them busy, seeing how many ways he could find to pull a fast one during rec time. He obviously didn't see the flush on fury on Trio's face.
"So you did cheat!" he shouted, springing to his feet.
Even Laf could interpret the hot rage of betrayal in Trio's voice. "Easy, it's just a game," he said. "I always-"
"Not for me, ner vod, okay!" Trio shouted, shoving at Laf hard. "Everything's such a game to you-"
This had gone far enough. Rex crossed the room at a sprint. "There is no cheating in this legion," he snapped, practically radiating authority. The four clones snapped to attention.
"It was just a game, sir," Laf put in, looking bemused.
"Doesn't matter," Rex countered. "If you so much as contemplate cheating one more time, I'll have you out of the five-oh-first like that." He snapped his fingers in Laf's face. The weakly grinning trooper jerked to attention. "This is the best legion in the army, and we have only the best. Any more of that substandard behavior and you'll be Five-Six again in some wimpy dark acolyte's legion. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go run the track five times, and give me a hundred pushups once you're done."
"Yes, sir." Laf headed from the room, all mindless purpose.
Rex surveyed the room. About a dozen other brothers had seen the incident. Not too good for morale, but-
"What seems to be the problem here, men?" Rex nearly jumped out of his skin. General Skywalker stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a smile of what looked like amusement on his face.
Rex snapped to. "Nothing, sir. A mild altercation. It's been taken care of."
Skywalker's eyes, though, passed right over Rex to land on the quivering Trio. "Really, Trio," he said mildly. "Since when is a little cheating a death sentence?"
The unbalanced clone went rigid.
Skywalker's face darkened. "Not in my legion it isn't."
Rex quickly intervened. "Berd, take Trio and run through some drills with him. You too, Oz, Mec," he instructed. "Now!" he added in a hiss when Berd moved a bit too slowly. Understanding gravity of the situation, Berd practically dragged Trio out the door with a respectful "Sir" as they passed the general.
Skywalker looked expressionlessly at Rex. "Managing my legion for me, Captain?"
"I am your third-in-command, sir," Rex answered immediately. "It's my job." He hoped the general was in a forgiving mood, because he had just interfered with his authority in front of a dozen clones. Not good.
Then Skywalker smiled with amusement, maybe even a possessive affection, and Rex knew he could relax. "Come on, Rex, I'd like a word with you. Your room."
Rex followed the Sith Lord down the hall to the private room that had been set aside for the clone captain's use. His stomach was churning. He truly loved his general. Most of the clones did. The 501st really was about as good as it got. Skywalker gave them names. He let them decorate their hair and armor to express their individuality. He saw that the cafeteria was stocked with real food, enough for each to have two portions at mealtime, and even provided vending machines whose tokens were distributed as a weekly allowance. He fought on the front lines with them-the one surefire way to gain any clone's respect and loyalty.
Rex had established, quite by accident, an arrangement that almost approached friendship with Skywalker. He legitimately enjoyed the man's company, and would follow him anywhere. Still, his thoughts kept going back to Skywalker's words to Trio. Had Trio really thought of murdering Laf? If so, Rex was sure it was a rogue thought, flitting like a frenzied bird through the man's broken mind. Still, with one sentence, General Skywalker had forever alienated Trio from the brothers present and invaded the one sanctuary a clone had, his private mind. One sentence, and he ensured that Trio would never be trusted again and shattered any sense of freedom he would ever have. At times like this, Rex wondered whether he knew his general at all.
Skywalker stood aside and gestured for Rex to enter the small room first. He did so, glancing around to be certain that everything was in its place. He had not been using this room, but made every effort to ensure it looked lived in. Sleeping alone did not work for Rex. He was too accustomed to the sounds of his brothers snoring and breathing and muttering in their sleep. After one hellish night, he had relocated to the floor of his old barracks, where he stayed for three weeks until the men took pity on him. Now they rotated whose bed he would sleep in, so he was only on the floor once in twenty days instead of continually.
The door slid shut behind Skywalker. He dropped onto the chair, while Rex settled on the edge of the bed. Skywalker scuffed his boot against the floor, silent for a minute. Rex gauged his superior's mood while he waited. The general was obviously preoccupied, but that was to be expected, what with his wife expecting a baby and all. The incident with Trio was a bad sign, but his grin earlier signaled that he was enjoying his captain at the moment. All in all, Rex concluded, it was a good day. He gave himself permission to relax.
"I know you haven't been sleeping in here, you know."
He did? Stang. Rex deflated a little, embarrassed. "Oh. Uh…how'd you know that, sir?"
General Skywalker waved a hand vaguely. "A general lack of presence. You sleep on your right side all the time, and the mattress doesn't show the impression that it should after seven months. Anyway, there are Iktotchi toast wrappers in the waste bin, and I know for a fact that you hate those. Kind of a rookie mistake."
Ouch. Rex struggled to find the right words. "It's not that I don't…appreciate it, sir, but…"
General Skywalker held up a hand to stop him and made eye contact for the first time, an entertained smile growing on his face. "It was for you if you wanted it, Rex. Since you obviously don't, I'll convert it back to storage and get you a bunk in your old barracks."
Relief was a sweet, sweet thing. No more sleeping in beds that smelled weird. "Thank you, sir," he said gratefully. "How's Senator Amidala doing?"
General Skywalker returned to contemplation of his hand, mainly manipulating his mechanical fingers into positions that must make the servos grind. Rex recognized immediately the sign of mental tension. "Sir?"
"It's twins."
Rex thought back to biology class and drew a blank. "Sir, what-"
He held up two fingers. "Two at once. Boy and girl." Voice still oddly flat, clenching and unclenching his mechanical hand.
Rex fell silent, processing this latest development. Two babies meant twice as much happiness, didn't it? He imagined that C-3PO wouldn't be able to handle both of them on days when both Skywalker and Amidala had to work. Maybe the general will bring them to us to watch, he thought with tentative hope. "That's great, sir!" he responded at last, and didn't bother to hide his enthusiasm.
"He didn't think so," Skywalker snapped.
Rex fell silent.
In an instant, Skywalker was on his feet, kicking the wall savagely. "Fierfek, I hate him!" he exploded. His eyes flared yellow.
Rex made himself as small a target as possible without drawing attention to his evasion attempt and prepared to ride out the storm.
"This is supposed to be happy, and he finds a way to ruin it! What if I don't want two? His first words." General Skywalker's voice rose to a mocking tenor with a bitter emphasis on want as he imitated the Emperor.
Rex felt sick.
"Then he starts hinting at what other arrangements he might make if they don't live up to EXPECTATIONS!" The general's shout rose to a near shriek. He rounded on Rex. "I'm sick of this! This joke of a life he lets me have, and the same goes for you!"
"Sir?"
"You can't tell me you don't hate every minute of this!" Skywalker crossed the room in two steps and loomed above Rex. His hair and robes whipped wildly in a wind Rex couldn't feel. "Do you?"
"No, sir! I'm grateful, sir!"
"For what?" General Skywalker spat. "That he's decided you're useful? That he bothers keeping you around?"
"That I'm lucky enough to serve with you, sir!" Rex cried. His body had tensed, ready to throw a defensive punch, but years of conditioning and a true devotion held him immobile.
For some reason, Skywalker paled. He sank to the ground to sit beside the bed and covered his face with his hands. "You really mean that."
"Yes, sir," Rex replied truthfully. "I do, sir. I love serving with you." The general laughed a little, bitterly. "Do you really?"
Rex clutched the headboard behind him until his fingers ached. "Yes, sir," he said imploringly. Please, please stop. "You're right, sir. This is happy. Let's be happy about it, sir. The Emperor can wait. Just forget him." "He's always in my head," Skywalker said, almost despairingly. "Just like I'm always in yours." He looked up.
Rex saw, to his relief, irises with just a slight taint of yellow. "Well, I'm happy about it, sir," he dared to say. "What are you going to call them, sir? They need names."
Skywalker smiled at him, a genuinely thankful smile that made Rex relax again and actually grin in return. "Don't know yet. Padme's set on Leia for the girl, but we're throwing around a couple for the boy. I'm completely hopeless at it, of course." Just like that, Skywalker switched emotions as easily as most people changed clothes. "Padme seems to like softer sounds for the names, no hard or sharp sounds. Luke is her favorite, I think, though she hasn't said so."
"What do they mean?" Rex asked, enjoying the conversation. Names were a source of endless fascination for him. They held the key to the bearer's soul in many cultures, and he possessed a much greater sense of self after receiving his own name. Rex: king. Cody: a cushion (the cause of much friendly ribbing for weeks). Anakin: peerless, without equal, or, more rarely, hope. Good names all, with good meanings. Rex was not of a superstitious nature, but he felt that, if selected carefully, a name could even help fend off the unhappiness and misfortune that plagued so much of the galaxy.
"Luke means light." Skywalker made a rueful face. "A bit too Jedi for my liking, but-" He shrugged expressively. "Leia means the rising sun. That's a bit better. The obvious connotation of a rising sun is power and glory, which is suitable."
Personally, Rex thought the rising sun continued the light motif, but he nodded in mute agreement. "How long until they're born?"
"Four months."
"Will you ever bring them by, sir?" Try as he might, Rex couldn't keep the tinge of wistfulness from his voice.
Skywalker gave him a sharp look. "Do you…like kids, Rex?"
"Yes, sir."
His general looked down at the ground, working his mechanical fingers again. The silence bore down on Rex, full of ominous potential. He crossed his fingers behind his back and waited. That was all he could ever do.
"Rex, if you ever…wanted a way out…maybe I could…I could…" General Skywalker's words were reluctant and halting, as if he was dragging them out against his will. "Help you," he finished, and glanced up at him.
Rex didn't understand. "Out, sir?"
"Of the army. It would mean leaving the Empire, of course, deserting to the Republic, but-"
"Sir, sir, no!" The word deserting triggered years of harsh conditioning. Rex's mind threw the concept far away as unthinkable. How could the general ever suggest such a thing? "We live for the Empire, sir. It is our duty, our honor, and our pleasure to serve the Empire, the Emperor, and the ideals they uphold." Rex spurted out the programmed response, muscles stiff. His head swam. Bright lights flared in his eyes. A splitting headache formed between his temples.
Skywalker started to his knees and clapped both hands to the top of Rex's head. "Easy, Rex. Calm. Stop it. Stop it right now. That's an order. Oh, come on. Please?" A clumsy touch knocked Rex over the head-Force-suggestion-but then eased the headache and internal chaos away, leaving the clone just a bit dizzy.
Skywalker stomped back to the chair and glared at him, almost indignant that his offer had triggered such a conditioned response. "Whatever you want," he spat in disgust. "Right?"
A chill ran down Rex's spine at the answer to the Emperor's horrific psychological manipulations. What do you want? The sessions had begun innocuously enough, before General Skywalker was ten. He had thought the Emperor was serious at first, was really offering him whatever he wanted. No matter how he answered the question, though, Sidious repeated it and pressed him for the correct answer. He poked and wheedled in such a mild, almost caressing voice, from what Rex could tell of Skywalker's imitations. The sessions continued on and off over the years, sometimes for hours, which could end with him sobbing, begging Sidious to stop, stop, please, Master, stop! When he was seventeen, he finally blurted out, "Whatever you want!" After that, the games had ceased. It had taken Skywalker years to figure out the correct answer. It had taken Rex mere hours. Skywalker had been sick with rage one day, and when alone with Rex, asked him what he wanted in a cycle of psychological torture that seemed to go on and on and on…. It couldn't have been more than an hour. It had felt like years. Skywalker had started out asking in a deceptively mild tone, with a half smile too. Near the end he had screamed the question at him, and all Rex could do was sob yet another answer in return. The clone captain still had nightmares about it four years later. He would never be able to hear the words "what do you want" or "whatever you want" without cringing. However terrible the Kaminoan conditioning had been, the Sith's never-ending mind games were far worse. His head jerked in silent response.
"It makes me sick," Skywalker hissed. "Laf was right. It is just a game." He fell into brooding silence.
Rex lay his head on the pillow. He just wanted one casual, anger-free conversation with the general. He could be so much fun sometimes, but inevitably it came back to manipulations and mind games. Whether Rex had to deflect his temper outright or dodge his not-inexpert psychological traps, dealing with General Skywalker/Lord Vader was exhausting. It was a wonder Senator Amidala could do it day after day.
"Here."
Rex peeked at the Sith. He was glowering, but the scowl was aimed inward, not at his captain.
"It's all a game here. They have places where it's just life. Not a game at all. No mind games and no psychological torture. Just families. Wives and children and grandchildren." He skewered Rex with a furious stare. "That's what I'm offering you."
Rex trembled, but forced himself, with the calm Skywalker had awkwardly foisted on him, to consider the prospect. Life outside the Empire? The Republic? A family?
"What about the others, sir?"
Skywalker shook his head. "This isn't something I can do a hundred times over, Rex. Just for you."
Rex shook his head. "I couldn't leave my brothers, sir. We're family." Skywalker tilted his head, considering. "If you want." A sly smile grew across the general's face. Rex didn't like the look of it at all.
"Can I go, sir?"
"By all means." The response was almost a purr.
"Sir, you're officially creepy now," Rex called, and hurried from the room. He'd better go find Trio.
Anakin spent most of dinner thinking in silence. Padme accepted this as a nice change of pace, though she shot him occasional questioning and then slightly worried glances as the evening wore on. Finally she sat down on the couch next to him, close enough that he was crammed against the armrest and couldn't help but pay attention. "All right, Ani. What is it? Isit him again?"
He really hadn't thought about Sidious all evening. His mind was on something else. The thing he was considering chafed at every preconception that had been drilled into him since birth. He hated even contemplating such an act; the very thought burned like flames. He's mine he's mine he's mine- Nevertheless, he forced himself to think past the outraged cacophony. The decision came painfully, scraping him raw and left him bleeding.
Padme was greatly alarmed when he suddenly buried his head in her hair and burst into silent tears. "Ani, what is it?"
Hearing the real fear in her voice, he pulled back. "Nothing. You're so beautiful tonight."
She leaned back, put off by his seemingly random mood swings. "Ani…is there something I should know?"
"You have black market connections, right?"
She squinted at him. "Anakin Skywalker, what have you done?"
"I need something," he cajoled, sweeping a lock of hair out of her face in what he'd been told was a very romantic gesture.
She smacked his hand away. "All right, don't try that on me. You're horrible at charisma, let alone seduction. What is it?"
"I need expert holofiles on how to undue brainwashing."
She sat back and stared at him. "Who for? You?" The look on his face made her laugh out loud. "All right, I won't ask. Fine. When do you need them?"
"No hurry."
"I'll send 3PO tonight, then."
Anakin frowned slightly. He'd been hoping for a long delay.
Padme pulled his head down to kiss him. "I'm proud of you," she whispered in his ear. "If you can do something this selfless, you'll make a wonderful father."
"Selflessness is for the weak," he retorted, half serious, half in a weak stab at play.
"Well, I find it very attractive. Oh, and tomorrow?" She smiled knowingly. "Say hello to Rex for me."
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mad'ika