The Clone was miserable. He was cold, he was wet right through his armor, and he was tired. And he wasn't the only one. He marched along in formation with a squad of brothers who were relative strangers to him. There had been a sketchy report that General Grievous was spotted in the area, here at the darker side of Aakaria, the Na'tave home-world. Jedi Master Glyr Rtj-lyr had been dispatched to check out the story. They had been greeted by a hot landing zone, losing a number of troops in the process. The ships carrying vehicles were forced to abort, all save one which was carrying a walker, more specifically an AT-RT.
The Jedi was using it, asserting that his aim and vision were both superior to the clones. If they ran into trouble, he would be able to warn them long before a clone in the same position. The clones didn't argue. Why would they?. A Jedi gave them an order, who were they to disagree with it?. Jedi did all kinds of things that didn't seem sensible. Clones quickly learned to live with it, as experience showed them that Jedi were almost never wrong. At least, not when compared with clones.
And to think, The Clone thought morosely, not so long ago I was cursing the heat.
This portion of Aakaria was typically shrouded in darkness, the planet's three suns touching here just often enough to make sure the steady supply of rainfall never quite turned to snow or ice. The lack of sunlight and perpetual cold discouraged most plants from growing, the rest were stopped by the rocks. This place brought a brand new meaning to the phrase "lifeless rock". It was almost solid black stone, and so far the clones had not spotted even one plant or animal, living or otherwise.
They had left the battlefield behind, in favor of heading straight for the coordinates Master Rtj-lyr had received. The surviving droids were probably still following their trail, but it couldn't be easy. The rocks prevented the clones from leaving footprints behind, and the steady rainfall reduced any heat signature they might produce. Rain, combined with darkness, made visibility near zero, even with night-vision. A harsh wind ensured that the rain didn't fall straight down, and The Clone was virtually certain it had found every crack in his armor.
"I'm a walking puddle," one clone commented to another.
"Well, if you get shot, be sure to stand near a droid. Maybe all that water will short its circuits," was the return remark.
"Keep the chatter low, boys," the Captain advised.
He sounded a bit nervous, and the clones he addressed picked up on it and shut up. There wasn't much that could make a clone nervous. They weren't afraid of fighting or dying. So that left one thing: the disapproval of the Jedi.
Hardened by years of training to the point that at times it seemed they were utterly dispossessed of any feelings whatsoever, clones were strangely sensitive to the disdain of their Jedi masters. There was no pain a clone was not willing to endure if he was so required, and most clones believed it was their fate to die at some point anyway, so it seemed that there was nothing a Jedi could do which would faze them. And yet, a harsh word from a Jedi could reduce the toughest soldier to fearful cringing.
The Clone glanced up at General Rtj-lyr. He had served under multiple Jedi, and had learned that they had a wide variety of behavior they expected and enforced. Rtj-lyr, he recognized, was likely a hard master, but he had no reason to think the Jedi was anything but a fair one.
He made a mental note to keep casual comments to himself. Jac was one of those unfortunate clones who'd lost entirely the squad he'd trained with, along with the first commander under whose authority he'd been placed. He had since been shuffled from unit to unit as needed, arriving a stranger and leaving in much the same way, neither fitting in nor standing out, regardless of where he wound up. This was why he'd come to be called JAC, Just Another Clone, in the first place. When he came and when he went, his new commander often asked of his old one what they should expect from him. The old commander would shrug and say "he's just another clone," meaning that there were no outstanding flaws that were worth noting. Or qualities, for that matter.
That made him an exceptional clone, but an average soldier. The best troopers actually deviated from the norm, but in a good way. Then again, the same was true of the worst ones, only in reverse.
The Captain who, best Jac could tell, had no nickname, edged closer to the walker and said something to the Jedi, who dismissed him with a 'shoo' gesture. Visibly crestfallen, the Captain shuffled back to his assigned position, where he seemed to struggle to shake it off.
He'd tried to tell Rtj-lyr that the men were tired, and needed to rest if they were to be any use in battle. The Jedi had made a pointed remark about the questionable toughness of the clones and a direct comment about the Captain's ability to lead and inspire them.
The Captain was used to this. He had never served under anyone but Master Rtj-lyr. He could remember when the reptilian eyed, golden scaled Jedi was of a somewhat kinder disposition. Rtj-lyr was a young Jedi, whose training had been perhaps cut slightly short by the start of the war. The effort had been in desperate need of Generals, and Rtj-lyr's training had suffered for it.
The Captain had served under Rtj-lyr in countless campaigns, and it had not escaped his notice that the Jedi had become ever less forgiving over time, and ever more strict. The Captain struggled to get his men to conform to the Jedi's ludicrously high standards of performance, but it was a losing battle. It seemed that the Captain fell lower in the Jedi's eyes each day, a situation which was at once discouraging and frustrating.
Less than an hour later, the Captain noticed the first of his men beginning to stumble. The slick rock was treacherous, but that wasn't why the trooper had fallen. It was because he was exhausted. They could not continue at this pace in these conditions.
"Sir, the men cannot go without rest for much longer," The Captain said "I recommend seeking temporary shelter in the mountain caves,"
"Have they complained to you?,"
"No, Sir, they have not," The Captain admitted this reluctantly, knowing what would follow.
"Then there is no reason to assume they have reached their limits. We go on until I say otherwise. Do not come whining to me again,"
"Yes sir," The Captain replied miserably, falling back in line once more.
The Jedi knew that not one of the clones would complain. It was not their place to bemoan their fate. The Captain knew Rtj-lyr was aware of this, knew the orders as they stood were unfair. But he could do nothing. As Captain, he had earned the right to offer up suggestions on tactics and the responsibility to keep the men in line, but that was all. His authority stopped far short of arguing the orders of a Jedi.
"How much farther do you think we have to go?," the new clone, Jac, asked of him.
"As far as General Rtj-lyr wants us to go," The Captain replied with as much ferocity as he could muster, pretending he found the question idiotic.
"I see," The Clone said thoughtfully, then went back to his place in line.
The Captain glanced back at the new clone uneasily. It was always the latest addition to the unit who caused all the trouble. Usually they were rookies who either died or eventually fell in line. But this one, this one had experience. Those were the worst ones. Those ones started doing things like thinking. Worse, that tendency had been fostered by previous commanders. That meant only trouble. The Captain shook his head. He'd have to rein that one in hard if he wanted to avoid trouble down the road.
Jac, meanwhile, was thinking things. There was something weird about this unit, though he couldn't decide if it found its origin in the men or their captain. It didn't even cross his mind that the issue might be with the Jedi Master. That was simply out of the question.
They had been pushed to the limits of speed and endurance, on nothing more than the suggestion that Grievous was here somewhere. They were in no shape for a fight now, less and less with every step. This was madness. Worse, it seemed like suicide. Jac didn't like it, not one bit.
But, like the Captain, he was bound to obey the Jedi, no matter how absurd that might seem. All he could do was keep on marching, keep focused on his task, and try to stay alert for potential ambush.
"We'll rest in that cave," The Jedi said finally.
Gratefully, the clones adjusted their course and filed into the cave. The walker stayed outside. Shivering and panting, the clones wasted no time in trying to wring out their wet gear. They checked to see if anything had shaken loose, if any lid had come off and let the rain in. They didn't know how long they'd have to rest, but they weren't about to waste time.
Rtj-lyr made as if to meditate, then some thought must have crossed his mind, because he instead turned to the Captain. A moment later, the Captain picked two clones out of the unit to scout ahead. Jac and one other, who was referred to by number.
The two obeyed, reluctantly leaving the moderately warmer, and much drier, cave for the storm outside. The Captain watched them go and wished, perhaps for the thousandth time, that he had the ability to answer back to the Jedi. Those two he'd sent out might make it back, but they'd be the first to fall as a result of sending them back out there so soon.
"This how things normally are?," Jac asked his traveling companion.
"Oh, I wouldn't know. I just finished training and shipped out a few days before you got assigned here,"
"Really?,"
"Yeah. Half the unit's shiny as I am," he replied.
"Strange," Jac said, thinking aloud "I wonder why that is,"
"I wouldn't know. I just do what I'm told,"
"As do we all, trooper. As do we all,"
The two clones returned weary and bedraggled, with nothing to report. They had seen no signs of Separatist troops, much less General Grievous. Rtj-lyr was less than pleased with this report.
"You are certain you missed nothing?," he demanded.
"Sure as we can be, Sir," the rookie clone answered.
"By chance, did you scout a shorter distance than you were instructed?,"
"No, Sir," the rookie said adamantly.
"That is...," Rtj-lyr took a deep breath and his yellow eyes narrowed "disappointing,"
"I'm sorry, Sir, but there's nothin' out there far as we could see," Jac spoke for the both of them.
"Very well. We shall remain here for the night, and resume the hunt first thing tomorrow,"
The two scouts were immeasurably relieved. They had not relished the idea of setting out again so soon. Of course, while the other clones were mostly dried out by this time, the two of them had to bed down soaking wet, and still shivering with cold.
Jac decided that it must be the Captain who was unreasonable. He had not heard what the Jedi said to the Captain, but he figured it couldn't be an order to send two travel-weary clones to look for Separatist troops in the dark and rain. It was absurd., plain and simple.
