Chapter Nine
Innocence
Hyperspace, Consular-class transport medbay. 7 Standard hours after the execution of Contingency Order 66.
She ran, her breath short and choked by the clouds of smoke and blaster gas that threaten to engulf her. She ran through wreckage and smoldering debris while blue bolts pursue her from unseen sources.
But she can't run fast enough, and the bolts find their mark as the voices of the men she'd once thought to be her friends begun to taunt her, call her the unthinkable and erode the very pillars of character she thought she stood upon.
They accuse her of the darkness she professes to decry; of flaunting herself, teasing them, giving them glimpses of what they would never have. They accuse her of untoward conduct, of giving them hope and false promises in her smiles. Her touches, her concerns, her laughter; all the fleeting promise of more; more than never came.
I didn't! She denies vehemently, deflecting a bolt back only for it to find its mark, to her horror, in the chest of the nearest pursuing, taunting trooper.
Then another falls, and another; their voices, his voice, slide into her thoughts with ever darker connotations. They accuse her of preying on the weaknesses of her men; of using her feminine wiles to twist them to her will, to gain their cooperation; to make them fall for her for just the chance with her.
You don't understand! You're supposed to be my friends! Why are you doing this?
She whirls about, smoke and blood and soot stinging her eyes as she deflects the blasts back along their trajectories, more fire, more dead troopers; more carnage. More broken dreams, the voices whisper, more cruel fantasies. Hatred fills the words, jealousy and anger buffet her from all sides, and tear down the walls of rational thought as doubts creep in.
Her defenses falter, a blaster bolt finds its mark in a stinging graze across her lek, and she cries out again.
And in the blur of pain and agony, her inward resistance falters. And in an instant of terror and confusion, she finds herself believing the words of the pursuing voices.
Talking and laughing with the new troopers, part of her job, became a chance for them to see her, to bring attention and admiration to her sweeping montrals and feminine form. To instill within them with the knowledge of her prowess and beauty. To be acknowledged as she acknowledged them.
Learning their names, and never getting them wrong was suddenly an exercise in flirtation, a way to bind each man to her irrevocably; to make him feel special and wanted by the only female in their midst. A tantalizing echo of what their name would sound like on her lips in the heat of passion.
Comforting the broken in the wake of battle was no longer offering simple solace but the actions of a teasing harlot, offering the physical comfort of a hug or touch but never following through on the promise of more.
Her visits the wounded were no longer a mercy, but a torture, a reminder to them of what they could never have.
On a sob, she runs; for dear life, for sanity, the dual-pronged attack more than she could bear. She leaps over the bodies of men than she had killed. Men with whom hours ago she'd laughed and worked and fought alongside, now lay with charred duraplast marking the points where she has deflected their own fire back at them. The visors of their helmets glare at her in silent accusation, even as they lay dead under her feet. She ran as the fire shrieks past her, laughter echoing somewhere as a crude suggestion accompanies another blast.
I did this, she thinks to herself, a cry ripped from her lips as the bolt grazes her back. I did this to them; I made them... but I wasn't... I didn't... I was... I am everything they say I am!
Her leg, her back, her lekku, all burn in excruciating pain. She stumbles, the rough ground digs into her hands and knees as she falls. Then she crawls, in a desperate attempt to put distance between herself and her killers. Grenades begin to fly, fireballs shower her with sparks and shrapnel. She tastes her own blood, mixed with dust and soot, as it runs in streams down her face. Salty, sickly sweet, roughened with sand and grit. She presses on, dragging her bleeding body towards the unknown. She wasn't strong enough to fight any longer.
Then she sees him.
Her Master, sauntering towards her as though he'd never left. Whole and healthy, his half grin as cocky as she remembers it ever being. His words, as he speaks were familiar - but jarring in view of her desperation. "Hey there, Snips."
It mocked how she'd seen him last, but she's too relieved to care, and latches onto his presence like a lifeline. Stretching one arm towards him, she holds out her hand beseechingly. "Master! Master, help me!"
He takes another step towards her, and his skin starts to glow as if from within; his smile vanishes, his eyes shift from their piercing blue to golden, and then sickly, yellow. "You brought this on yourself, Ahsoka," he tells her evenly, black patches starting to appear on his skin.
"No, Master!" she cries, desperately. "Please!"
Anakin doesn't appear to even hear her, his words turning colder even as the black, charred flesh begins to spread across his skin like wildfire, his eyes glowing with every pulse of his heartbeat. Within seconds all visible skin is blackened, and blood begins to ooze from the cranks forming on his face. His eyes are now fiery gold, blazing with hatred. His tunic flutters in the thermal wind current, singed and giving off streams of smoke. "You brought this on me,'' he snarls down at her. "You betrayed me!"
Her eyes burn with unshed tears at his accusation. "Master, please, I didn't-"
"You failed me; you did this to me." He raises his weapon, his shouting becoming an agonized, bloodcurdling scream "I hate you!"
Her hand falls, her fingers curling in on themselves as the words fell like physical blows, raining down upon her with alarming intensity; an intensity she can't match. Tears streak her face as she shifts away from him, trying to get way, to escape his rejection as much as his weapon.
Once she would have resisted, would have protested. But not anymore, not when every standard she lived by had already been obliterated. He was right. She'd never been a good enough Padawan.
The blue blade arcs towards her head as she rolls away, somehow evading the the beam of azure plasma as it grazes her wounded lek, singeing the tender skin and causing her to scream again.
Anakin laughs at her, his voice booming and terrifying as he mocks her pathetic flight, but he does not pursue. Despite her painfully slow pace, her Master seems to grow distant the moment she looks away, his wicked laughter trailing off as it fades into the roar of the flames that surrounded her. By the time she manages to crawl forward again, there is no sign of him anywhere.
Still she presses on. Blood soaks her hands, causing the sand and grit to stick to them. She crawls towards the only break in the wall of fire, her strength waning, her limbs ready to fail her.
Finally, she can go on no more. She collapses, crying out as her wounds are forced open by the impact, spilling her lifeblood anew. She lay sobbing, blood and tears streaming from her body, leaving reddish pools amidst the rubble. She lies limp, weak and terrified; she wasn't brave enough to be a Jedi.
Then she sees him.
White armor, with blue markings at each joint, stained with soot and dirt from the battlefield. His helmet, adorned with jaig eyes on either side of his jet black visor. Feet placed apart, arms crossed in an image of authority and strength, while the smoke and the flames seem to part on either side of him. Her Captain, her last remaining friend. Her only hope.
"Rex," she whispers. "Help me."
He stands still, unmoving, like a statue, his helmet hiding any emotion or feeling he may possess. He doesn't answer, remaining still and silent as stone.
"Rex, I need you," she whispers again, convulsing as a coughing fit racks her body. "Please, Rex, I need you."
He stands still for another moment, as though deliberating. Not a sound, not a muscle moves as he regards her frail and bloody form with cold, calculating indifference. And though he never answers her a word, Ahsoka is sure she can still hear the voices - his voice - taunting and mocking, reminding her of how far she'd fallen.
"Mighty fine bit of tail there..."
"Aggressive, animalistic bitch..."
"Sure, she was willing... as wanton as any HoloNet slut."
The echoes and memories have blurred beyond any distinction, and Ahsoka wasn't sure whether her estimation of herself could fall any lower. I'm just a failed Jedi, I brought this all on myself. I'm a filthy alien whore who's getting what I deserved all along. I don't have anything to offer him.
"Please, Rex..." she begs, reaching for him from where she lay at his feet, her fingers stretching just enough to grasp at his greaves. Her terror turns to desperation, and she no longer has it in her to fight it, as she falls to depths she couldn't imagine in an unthinking appeal to a man's lowest instincts. "You can have me, you can use me, you can take whatever you want from me, just don't leave me!"
At her touch he steps back, moving suddenly as though he'd been bitten, and she can feel the disgust in his hollow and modulated voice as he spoke.
"What are you doing?" he asks her, his voice echoing within her montrals and sounding more appalled with her each time. Ahsoka has lost all train of thought now, and no longer knows whether she should weep for her descent to crude bargaining, or for his disapproval; only that she feels she could die from the sheer shame as Rex continues to back away, leaving her more alone than ever.
He doesn't want me.
"No!" he growls at her, his denial a confirmation of her deepest, most primal fear. Rex doesn't want her at all. Not even the carnal pleasures of a mate would compensate for her filth and her failure. Rex stood still for a moment, his gaze through his slotted visor granting her all the affection one would give a rock-maggot.
Then in slow motion, he turns and walked away.
"No!" she cries, desperate beyond words, "No! Rex, don't leave me!"
He continues walking, marching with sure steps, his kama sways against his armored hips as he moved. He was the object of whateversliver of hope she might have had; his departure was the ultimate image of rejection.
I don't deserve him. I'm not good enough for him.
"Please! I'll do anything for you! Just don't leave me!"
Her pleas go unheard as Rex continues marching away, his form becoming obscured by the smoke of the fires that are raging on every side of her. "No..."
The fire moves between them, cutting him off from view completely and ensconcing her in a wall of flame. Ahsoka lets her head fall to the ground, exhausted, her hands still outstretched for the help and the reassurance that would never come, because she didn't deserve it. She wasn't brave or strong enough to be a Jedi. She wasn't honorable or worthy enough to retain the trust of her men. She's not faithful enough to keep her own Master.
And she'll never be good enough for Rex.
Hyperspace, Consular-class frigate. 8 Standard hours after the execution of Contingency Order 66.
The transponder was deactivated.
That was a bit of an understatement. In fact, precious few people in the galaxy would discerned the flattened bits of scrap lying on the deck from the remnants of a Tatooine junk trawler; certainly not a sophisticated communications unit wrenched from beneath the control panel of a state-of-the-art Republic warship. Rex grimaced as he massaged his wrist, his arm propped on the arm of the pilot's chair where he was seated. Chances were he'd need to have 2-1B take a look at his hand after the abuse of the 'deactivation.'
Regardless, it helped. A lot. Not so much solving any of his problems, but it did release some of the tension, and the pain was not an unwelcome distraction. The throbbing in his wrist was much more manageable than the maddening frustration that had already brought him perilously close to jumping out of the airlock.
To be fair, that move wasn't all that high on his list of options - and it took two people to operate the airlock. And he didn't think Ahsoka would have volunteered to help, although after the disturbing confrontation between them only an hour ago... he almost wondered.
Ahsoka.
Rex sighed, still mired in that miserable feeling of guilt and of helplessness. He wasn't able to help her. He wasn't trained or equipped for these sorts of issues. Kriff, he wasn't even trained to work with females, let alone Jedi ones.
And he'd certainly not been briefed on the proper protocol when a female superior attempts to coerce you into bed.
The irony of the situation gave way to a sickening sense of shame. This was Ahsoka. His friend, his loyal companion that he'd thrown everything away for. He knew her better than he knew himself, or so he thought. She'd never acted this way around him, or anyone else in the corps - Rex was confident of that. If it hadn't been for a bit of casual research he'd done on her race, shortly after her arrival on Cristosphis, Rex might never have even recognized her gesture, or what she was trying to offer him.
Offer? Was that even what it was? Or was it a demand on her part? How would he tell the difference? What if this was something she needed, if there was some sort of-
"Fierfek," he swore, bolting to his feet and walking between the seats to pace the rear cockpit. Never. Ahsoka had never shown any sort of interest or inclination towards him in that way. Whatever had gotten ahold of her now was temporary, it had to be so, and Force-forbid that Rex would allow her to do anything now that she'd regret forever once she finally came out of it.
She would come out of it... right?
Rex scowled at a random monitor at the engineer's console. She had to. And he would not even consider taking advantage of her in this state. Sergeant Cull's bitter accusations would not find any ground in Captain Rex, ever.
Expelling another sigh, Rex returned to the forward cockpit. They'd been drifting in realspace for too long now, the delay necessitated while the transponder was being removed. Not bothering to take a seat, Rex leaned over the navacomputer and dialed in a new set of coordinates from memory. They had fuel for several more jumps, and the time in hyperspace would be time for the Republic to lose track of them, and hopefully give up on the search. Without the transponder, it would be nearly impossible to locate their ship. Then he could begin searching for someplace to hide for the long term.
He threw the lever, leaning against the seat and watching as the stars stretched to infinity.
Ahsoka.
Perhaps he'd tried too hard. Maybe Ahsoka needed time alone to recover and recuperate, without the added complexity of a clone hovering over her in misguided attempts to provide comfort or relief. Ahsoka had gotten through some grave circumstances on her own before. She didn't need Rex's help while fighting for her life against the Trandoshan hunters on the Wasskah moon. She'd handled herself extraordinarily on Zygerria and Mon Cal and any number of worlds and campaigns without Rex's direct assistance.
Ahsoka was strong, stronger than she knew. She was cunning and quick-thinking and loyal to a fault. She'd get through this as well, Rex was sure of it. He had to be.
His musings were shattered by an ear-splitting scream echoing up the rear corridor.
Pevious resolutions forgotten, Rex bolted from the cockpit, traversing the space between the forward section of the ship and the centrally-located medbay in less time than it took to say his name and rank. Not bothering to activate the latch, he barreled straight through the thin plate steel for, bursting it loose from its hinges as he rammed it in a blur of forward motion. He was inside the medbay before the broken door had hit the deck, taking in the scene before him with narrowed eyes.
Ahsoka lay on the cot, thrashing and flailing and trying to grapple with the metallic arms of the med-droid, which appeared to be attempting to replace the restraining straps that Rex had removed previously. Ahsoka's eyes were shut, and she was crying and screaming something unintelligible but certainly independent of her unconscious struggling against the robotic medic. Indeed, had her limbs not been so weakened from blood loss, Ahsoka would easily have ripped the droid apart with her wild and unthinking strokes.
The 2-1B's head swiveled to face Rex as he stalked it. "Do not worry sir," it assured him, its liquid-like tone a jarring juxtaposition against the violence occurring beneath its steel arms. "I have the patient under control and she will be sedated as soon as-"
It never finished the sentence as Rex's fist collided with its optical receptors, sending the droid toppling backwards with its brain box dislodged and hanging by a pair of wires. Various medical equipment and supplies came crashing to the surface as the droid fell, creating a satisfying combination of crashes and clangs as the entire supporting assembly about the droid succumbed to Rex's attack.
An attack that he just recognized as an unwarranted and very stupid one before shoving any thought of it from his mind, turning to face the flailing form still on the bed.
"No! No!" Ahsoka cried, tossing and writhing on the medbay cot. "Please... don't leave! I'll... I'm not..."
In the back of his mind Rex knew that grappling with her in this condition was almost certain to end badly, but at this point he had no choice - he was damn certainly not going to just tie her down and leave her alone. Already he could see marks that would become bruises where she had struck against the sides of the cot or the droid's arms. One way or another, Ahsoka was going to get through this, and if it meant Rex's involvement - and possibly another confrontation - so be it.
"Ahsoka," he called her name, keeping his tone pitched low and gentle. As he continued to speak he reached out and with precise moves clasped one of her hand in his, and then the other, holding her fast while her arms continued to struggle. "Ahsoka, it's okay, you're safe now."
His only answer was her cries and gasps, though it thought he might have heard his own name somewhere in her mostly unintelligible lament. Unable to move her arms freely, Ahsoka bucked her hips and seemed to try and kick her way free; her lower limbs still too weak to do more than jerk and twitch with the effort.
Rex refused to relent, moving alongside the bed to better face her and to box her struggling form into the bed, still calling her name. "Ahsoka! Ahsoka, wake up! You're not alone, I'm right here with you. Ahsoka!"
He certainly hadn't meant to growl at her but something of the urgency of the situation got the better of him, and her name left his lips in the tone he normally reserved for leading a suicide charge in the face of heavy fire.
Ahsoka's eyes snapped open at his command, wild and wide with terror. Rex had an idea of what was coming this time, but that didn't prepare him for the unexpected force of Ahsoka's arms around his neck, her movement so sudden her wrists managed to slip from his grasp, and Rex was forced to reappropriate his hands to keep from collapsing atop of her - an outcome that may well have been Ahsoka's instinctive intent.
But Rex was somewhat more mentally prepared this time around, and he quickly regained his footing, first bracing himself on his arms and then taking ahold of Ahsoka's shoulders, forcing them apart without either releasing the other. He continued saying her name, unsure of what he wanted to tell her, only knowing that he would never leave her side again until he had seen her through this... condition.
But he fell silent when he thought he was able to catch his name amidst Ahsoka's frantic cries, gasped and forced out through shallow and fast breathing. He strained his ears to listen, inwardly agonizing over her haunted state and cursing whatever forces had brought this tragedy and trauma upon her.
"No... don't!" she cried, her eyes closing and opening in agitated cycles. "Please... Rex, I'll do anything... please..." Despite being pinned down by her shoulders she still struggled to close the distance between them, her words growing more frantic at his resistence. "Please... please just take me, you can do whatever you... you can have me... Rex... don't leave me!"
Rex almost lost his composure, his steely bearing reeling at her terrified and confounding pleas. Even as he held her writhing form to the cot his vision seemed to blur, as he struggled to comprehend why Ahsoka - Ahsoka of all people! - would be driven to bargain with her own body, as though he would have left her without such an offer.
It made no sense. Ahsoka knew Rex, she knew he'd never 'take' anything from her, let alone her dignity and her innocence. If only for his actions since sparing her from Order 66, Ahsoka had to know that Rex wouldn't abandon her now.
The moment the thought had formed, Rex was sure he knew the answer.
Ahsoka did trust him. With her life and more.
But she had also trusted her men, the troopers who had turned and unleashed hell upon her without warning or explanation. She'd nearly died for that trust.
She had trusted Sergeant Cull, the man who she thought as a friend, if a 'flirty' one, as she'd put it. She'd trusted a man whom in an instant was ready to rail and seethe at her in the most depraved ways he knew. Who seemed driven to tarnish her dignity and her self-respect, even in what he believed to be her last moments.
A man who may very well have planted the idea that she was worth only the pleasure her body could offer a man.
Ahsoka had trusted her Master. The man who should have been at her side, to assist and defend her, and who instead had left her to fend for herself in a war-torn galaxy, and who had apparently managed to haunt her still through Force-methods Rex couldn't fully understand.
Ahsoka had trusted and believed in the ideals of the Republic, in the constancy of the Jedi Order, in the Force and in a way of life that was no more. In the cruelest manner possible, Ahsoka Tano had been torn from everything she thought she could count on. Everything she would have been willing to die for.
"Rex... please..." Ahsoka's moaning was growing quiet, her struggles weakening from sheer exhaustion. She let her back collapse back to the cot, gasping at the impact, arching her head as she had done before in an instinctive and unthinking token of submission. "Please, take me... keep me... Rex..."
He looked down into her eyes, and she looked back up at him, and in her gaze Rex felt he could see straight into her being. He saw Ahsoka torn between primal demands for companionship and stability and terror and confusion over the vulnerability she was placing herself in. What she was asking for, wasn't at all what she wanted, let alone what she needed.
And she needed Rex to help her see that.
"Ahsoka," he began, the earnestness in his gaze making up for the softness in his tone. "Ahsoka," he repeated, watching as her struggles continued to abate, and her eyes remained locked with his as she began to quiet. "Ahsoka, please listen to me."
Finally she lay still, her cries ceasing, her breath coming fast, hitching as she hiccuped. Her eyes never left his own, and Rex relaxed his firm grip, sliding his hands down to take both of hers in a gentle squeeze.
"Ahsoka, I need you to listen closely for a moment. I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying right here as long as you need me. Just listen, alright?"
Anxiety built within Rex as he awaited he reaction, turning to relief when she gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"I know this is all confusing, frightening. It is for me, too, and I don't have answers for everything you want to know. But there's one thing I know without a shred of doubt, and I want to tell you that now."
Again he sought acknowledgment, receiving it this time in the form of a low sigh and a subtle twitch of her white eye markings. "Ahsoka, no matter what happens, no matter what comes our way, I'm with you. I don't care what your Master did, I don't care what Cull said or what the Force tells you, I'm on your side all the way. I always have been, and I always will."
Ahsoka's eyes began to glisten, her breathing slowly settling to a normal rate, and she have a half nod as though to encourage him to continue.
Rex didn't hesitate to oblige. "Ahsoka, I'm telling you the truth. You're the most honorable Jedi I've met. You're a capable and trustworthy leader. You deserved every iota of respect and loyalty you've gotten, and more. You had low points, but you've always pulled through and gotten up again, and that's the best anyone can do."
He paused, trying to gather his thoughts, for though everything he'd said was true he hadn't come close to saying what he wanted to say. "More than any of that, Ahsoka, you've been the best friend anyone could wish for. To all the men, and to me. You've risked your life for mine far too often, and you never once looked for compensation. You've had my back when nobody else would have thought to wonder about me. If it weren't for you... I would have given up a long time ago."
Tears were flowing freely from Ahsoka's eyes now, and Rex stopped to retrieve his handtowel again and dab her face gently. When he pulled back, Ahsoka moved a little, a subtle arch of her neck that put Rex on alert immediately, though he remained gentle in tone.
"Ahsoka, I've never asked for anything from you before, and I'm not going to now. This isn't a rejection, Ahsoka," he added, as she began to whimper again. He applied gentle pressure to her hands, before speaking in a soft voice, "Ahsoka, many a better man than I would die for a woman like you. You're-" Rex hesitated though the word came to him instantly -"beautiful, more than you know, Ahsoka."
He felt his face heating at his own words, and he hastened to continue. "We'll get through this, Ahsoka, I promise you we will. But you've got to trust me on this, even though it's hard under these circumstances. We're friends, just like old times, and that's not going to change now, or ever."
As he finished, he held her gaze, willing her to understand what he wasn't sure he'd managed to communicate. Ahsoka still gazed up at him, her eyes still wide and watery, but where there had been terror and conflict before, now was pure gratitude. The fear and confusion was still written on her drawn face, her downturned lips as she breathed softly, and Rex knew that no matter how strong Ahsoka was, she'd never be the same after this. The innocence that made her such a light during the years of war had been thoroughly swept away; not a remnant of the eager and sometimes naive youngling could possibly have survived the devastating blow she'd taken.
But she would push on, like she always did, and she'd get through this tragedy like she had far too many others. And she wouldn't do it alone, Rex would guarantee that.
Ahsoka moved her lips to speak, though no intelligible sound came at first. Her white eyebrows furrowed a little as she tried to form words, finally managing to murmur a soft, "Thank you," followed by a single syllable spoken mostly under her breath that could have been his own name.
"You're more than welcome, Ahsoka," Rex murmured in response, satisfaction and relief welling inside as her eyelids began to flutter. Force knows she needs some real rest after all of this.
But Ahsoka - in a rather typical gesture, now that Rex thought of it - resisted succumbing to her exhaustion, and seemed determined to try and say more. Rex gave her a moment, but it was clear she was too weak and dazed to speak coherently, and so he brought a hand to her shoulder and urged her to relax. "We'll talk later, Ahsoka, it's time to get some rest."
An anxious frown drew her face, and Rex cracked a small smile at her concern. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here, long as you need. Come on," he reached up into the overhead bin to retrieve an extra blanket, and began tucking it in around her. "Let's get you bedded down now."
Ahsoka breathed a contented sigh, relaxing for the first time since their escape. No sooner had she done so that she turned a questioning eye towards Rex, and again attempted to speak. "Where... we..."
Rex held up a hand. "I've got things under control, trust me on that. Rest, Ahsoka" he repeated, firmly though with his lips still upturned a little.
At his light-hearted order a flash of humor crossed Ahsoka's face, and she wrinkled her face in what Rex recognized as a mock glare. It only took a moment for him to identify the source of her amusement, and he chuckled - another first since their escape, he realized - before admonishing. "We'll discuss rank later; you can reprimand me once you're back on your feet. Now, sleep."
He turned out the overhead lighting, before turning back to face her. The dim glow of the emergency exit lights cast a weak wash of warm auburn across her face, and her eyes responded by concentrating the light and gleaming as she cast her gaze about. When her eyes settled on Rex's, he flashed her another smile, laying a hand atop hers and kneeling beside her bed, bringing himself to her eye level. He didn't say anything more, only remained there by her side, and as her eyes finally began to close her fingers curled to capture his.
Rex couldn't resist another half smile as she slept. Somehow he knew, despite the odds, that it would be alright.
The Sleight of Hand, in-orbit over Tosste. 11 Standard hours after the execution of Contingency Order 66.
"Well, finally. We're here, sir. But nobody else is!"
The cloud-wrapped sphere of Tostte filled the forward view screen as the *Sleight of Hand exited hyperspace. Bane ignored the droid, his attention still on the incoming data on his shipboard workstation while Todo voiced his dismay at the barren scene. "No ships, no lifeforms, nothing! This is all a fantastic waste of time!"
"That's plenty, Todo. Now shut it." Bane continued regarding his datapad, hardly giving the scene outside a glance. "The Republic troops have already left long ago. We're tracking fugitives; did you think they'd hang out here waiting for us?"
He removed his hat, scratching his head as he waited for the results from his latest query. Response time was abysmal, given the extreme distance from the connection source, but Cad Bane was nothing if not patient. Haste was never good for business; better to bide your time, strike when the moment was right, and lay low when it was not.
Despite said patience, he was quite pleased when the reply did finally come through. The fresh stream of data filled the glowing display with another matrix of figures and codes, and Bane quickly zeroed in on the ones of interest.
His narrowed eyes blinked once at a string of characters. Even encrypted he was sure he recognized them, and a brief inspection confirmed it.
"By the nine hells of Corellia," he muttered beneath his breath. Of all the possible suspects, out of the thousands of Jedi scattered about the galaxy... Cad Bane had unwittingly struck upon the trail of none other than... her?
A brief moment of indecision quickly passed - he had nothing to fear from a mere youngling, whatever her title happened to be these days. This was business, and she could prove most useful. Even as he began reading off lists of coordinates Bane was already pondering various means and schemes, certain now that he was on the trail of the most lucrative venture in his long and colorful career.
Somewhere in the back of his mind was a warning, a hesitation, an uncertainty. But Bane brushed it aside, compartmentalizing it in that sector of his mind that was reserved for the unthinkable. This was business, plain and simple. And sometimes business meant soliciting the services of a partner, distasteful though it may be.
And Cad Bane was never one to shun the distasteful.
He turned to his droid. "New coordinates are in the navacomputer. Get us there, now."
Author's Note: (Updated 4/27/12)
Major changes to Ahsoka's nightmare, the confrontation with Rex in the medbay... pretty much everything. :P
HUGE thanks to Jade-Max for her help and contribution to this chapter. Also to laloga for her invaluable beta'ing.
As always, thanks for reading, and please review!