Traitor
Oh-eight walked to the captain's tent, his helmet attached to his belt, the duffel slung over his shoulders and rain plastering his gray-streaked hair to his skull. He hadn't taken any care in packing the duffel; R-50 was a deserter, a dead man. Who cared what happened to his belongings?
Oh-eight's lips curled into a silent snarl. They hadn't even cared what happened to Are.
He liked the rain, it matched his mood and anything to spoil the captain's day was fine by him. Mud always spoiled the captain's day. He liked his boots spit and polish; something difficult to maintain in Hamura's weather even on the best of days.
Three of the sergeants were with the captain, listening or reporting. Two were human, not clone. A squad of troopers was nearby and they were clone. Oh-eight decided it a good time to turn in the gear.
"You're a traitor, ARC-eight," growled the captain as Oh-eight came to the tent's entrance, into the captain's line of sight. "A damnable traitor. I will have you executed for what you did."
Oh-eight shrugged. "If I were a traitor, do you think I'd be sitting here listening to you? What is it you think I did?" He snorted; bitter laughter from deep in his throat threatening to choke him. "Beside take down the shield generator for you?"
"Those were R-50's orders." The captain turned to face his recalcitrant ARC, the sergeants momentarily forgotten.
"He failed. Just like you expected him to fail." Oh-eight glared at the captain's eyes, his own dark with hatred.
"The only reason you didn't desert also was you knew I had the snipers targeting you." The captain sneered. "That would make you a coward, wouldn't it? Afraid to desert even after that … useless waste ran to the other side."
"Canons, too," replied Oh-eight. "Don't forget the cannons. Not your best use of equipment at hand. You could have had the canons targeted to inside the shielding and fired as I took it out." He shrugged. "That would also have taken me out if I intended desertion. Instead you lost valuable time, waiting until I had returned to camp before targeting." Oh-eight laughed, matching the captain's sneer. "You can save your equipment next time and use it for its proper purpose. I have no intention of deserting." He paused. "I doubt that CT-5050 had any inclination of deserting either; until you forced him to do so."
"You are a traitor, ARC eight, and…"
Oh-eight interrupted. "If I was a traitor, I could have deserted at the mountain battle. Or at the plains on the edge of rebel-held Techku where I," he jerked his thumb against his armor, against his chest, "I planted almost 100 frag mines. I could have deserted any night during the last three months when perimeter guards were more concerned with keeping dry than in guarding any perimeter."
The others were watching; the three sergeants quiet and Oh-eight was pleased that at least one of them seemed to be reflecting on the information he was hearing.
"If I were a traitor, captain, you wouldn't know it and, if I planned to desert, I'd be 200 klicks away before you had any idea." Oh-eight's fingers let go of the duffel he'd been holding over his shoulder as he turned back in the direction of his single man tent; perfectly suited for an ARC and his equipment.
The duffel slid down his rain-slicked armor.
He heard the duffel splash against the muddy ground, sending a spray of mud to cover the captain's shiny boots. He heard the mud spatter against the leather. He heard the captain's cuss and words of anger.
Oh-eight smiled grimly.
The captain would think of some punishment and Oh-eight needed it; needed something to keep him from dreaming, needed something to remind him that this was war, needed something to remind him that you couldn't have friends.
Friends only betrayed you by leaving you behind.
It would have been his death, said a tiny portion of his mind, you ordered him to desert.
Oh-eight was glad for the rain. No one asked him about the droplets running down his face.
Wow, musing was short, stark and hard today.
As always, read and enjoy…
