Chapter 10

Kachirho, Kashyyyk/ 19 BBY/ 2 hours after Contingency Order: 66

The entire galaxy was witness to the swift and cruel actions of the Grand Army of the Republic. Far away from the thick jungles of Kashyyyk, Courascaunt's vibrant night life of endless traffic weaved between the heightless skyscrapers. In the midst of the wondrous city, a great evil emerged from its shadows and extended its reach, manipulating all around it. The Contingency, Order 66 had been given to Clone Commanders all across the galaxy. On battlefields everywhere, the once great Jedi were being gunned down by the very Clones they'd served by through the last four terrible war-stained years. Though few dared to outwardly question the order, not all Troopers executed without hesitation. One such Trooper was Keilbourn. Just a half hour ago, the ARC had been delegated the task to hunt down one of the few Jedi Generals deployed on Kashyyyk. Intelligence officers supplied him with necessary information; though no matter what they said, something just didn't feel right. Keilbourn owed his life to the Jedi countless times, now they were guilty of treason? It just didn't ring for the ARC. Nevertheless, he was ready to carry it out. That was until minutes ago when he had Jedi-General Quinlan Vos in his crosshairs, posed broadly and unaware on the deck of the massive A6 Juggernaut. The ARC was just easing on the trigger before the entire vehicle exploded, incinerating the Jedi. The Juggernaut beside the Jedi's craft's cannons were smoking, aimed directly at the smoldering wreckage of the massive ten wheeled tank. Keilbourn lay at his perch, watching through his scope as the fiery remains caught to the thick jungle surrounding them. At first, he'd just felt uneasy about the idea of hunting Jedi, though after witnessing it, his mind was made up.

The command post bustled about as logistics clones shouted out status reports from various commanders on the battlefield. In the center studying the holo-table stood Commander Tyval. Through the edge of trees to the north, came the whirring sound of a BARC speeder. The two clones posted for security for that sector both dropped to their knee and leveled their blasters. Erupting from the trees, Keilbourn skid his BARC speeder to a stop just before passing the two troopers. Disengaging the engine, he dismounted and walked briskly with his sniper in his hands. Immediately the two troopers stepped aside and ignored him, neither wanted to cross an ARC trooper. Mere feet into the clearing, Keilbourn had to stop. Over the distant chaos of war and the continuous roar of gunship engines was a weak and weary chorus of pain. Off to the left of the clearing, laid out on stretchers were at least twenty clone troopers, all writhing and wrapped in bandages where their armor had been removed. Turning his head to the right, were the unlucky ones. Rows of tarp covered bodies lay silent in the grass. Keilbourn's gaze lingered there for a moment. He'd seen death before. Some of them he had known, many he didn't. But no matter how long he stared at the procession of dead bodies, he just couldn't shake the image of the Juggernaut on flames. All those clones, his kin, dead all to kill one damn Jedi. With heavier steps, Keilbourn continued on to the ramp of the command post. He stepped up to the center where Commander Tyval stood.

"Commander, Sir," he called.

"Sergeant," Tyval acknowledged. Keilbourn hesitated, still haunted by the Juggernaut.

"General Vos is dead," he finally said.

"Yes, we know. The 741st already reported in," Tyval said as he returned his attention the holo-table. Keilbourn felt his hands tighten on his sniper rifle. He began to boil inside his armor.

"And did they happen to mention that an entire mobile artillery crew and a security patrol were killed in the offensive?" he said through grit teeth.

"This is war, Trooper. Soldiers die everyday," Tyval said as he turned away from the ARC. "Besides, we got the Jedi and that's all that matters." In his mind, questions contended with Keilbourn's instincts. He was a soldier and good soldiers always follow orders. But the Jedi? What had they done to warrant these attacks? The more he pictured himself pulling the trigger on one, the more guilty and lost he felt. He just couldn't live with that. Keilbourn glanced over the logistics clones, busy with their treachery. He then looked back to the dead, how lucky they were to not have to face the same dilemma Keilbourn found himself wrestling with now. He stepped off of the command post and never turned back.

The ARC was merely steps away from the hidden hanger bay before his personal communicator rang. It couldn't be official orders from the GAR, they didn't have the codes to reach him. He was done with the Republic, ready to walk away and pick up on a new life. It would be rough, though he was accustomed as an ARC for solo, undercover experiences. Keilbourn keyed in the pass-code on the terminal next to the door. The terminal released the hatch as the ARC reached back for his communicator. Landed on the ledge of the large hanger was his personally restored Dynamic-Class Freighter. Before reaching the entry ramp, he activated the handheld device. Keilbourn removed his helmet as the blue hologram projection hovered above the round device. He was beyond surprised by who was on the other side. A gaunt faced man with short, thinning hair and stern eyes looked at Keilbourn, the Mandalorian, Sergeant Walon Vau.

"Sergeant Vau," Keilbourn greeted him warmly. "I must say I'm surprised, Sir."

"Keilbourn I don't have time to chat," the Mandalorian trainer said stiffly. "Though it is good to see you," he added with a grin. Keilbourn couldn't help himself. He needed perspective from another world.

"Sir what is going on? We've been ordered to kill Jedi," he asked impatiently. Vau waved away his question with mounting impatience.

"I'm sorry but there's no time for that," he said. "Keilbourn, I need your help." Keilbourn straightened up before the projection.

"What can I do for you Sir?" Walon grinned again at the ARC.

"Are you familiar with Delta Squad?" Vau asked.

"Very," Keilbourn answered.

"Delta-07, Sev, has gone MIA back in Kachirho. Delta was forced to pull out before they could go back for him."

"I'm aware, Sir," Keilbourn cut in. Vau raised an eyebrow at the ARC.

"Well, it's a mutual belief between the Squad and myself that Sev is still out there. I would go out myself, but I'm currently assisting Sergeant Skirata in some," he paused carefully. "Some business," he finished. The trainer's explanation seemed suspicious to the ARC, but who was he to question the Mandalorian. "Keilbourn I need you to go out and find him, at least go and look." Vau's face was stiff yet his eyes told a different story, a reflection of grief.

"What if I find him?" Keilbourn inquired. Though his gut told him to walk right up the ramp of his ship and leave Kashyyyk behind, his sense of duty and care for the Mandalorian outweighed his own desires. Relieved Vau stared at him sternly through the blue haze of the hologram.

"Follow these instructions exactly."