There was no hesitation, no tense moment where it was unclear what the squad would do. Volk turned to look at the members of the squad who were scattered about the destroyed post and jerked his head in the direction they'd come from. The squad responded.

It wasn't clear how Volk had conveyed with a mere flick of his head exactly what they were doing. Rafe wasn't sure, but he suspected that Volk had somehow conveyed the complex discussion they'd had with a single motion that was understood by the rest of his squad from sixty yards.

The only reluctance was displayed by Theran, who stood stiffly for a moment, looking back the way they'd come as though he expected Caden to show up at any moment. Then, lowering his head dejectedly, the young Onitheran fell into position near the head of the formation.

But, though the squad had formed up, they didn't move. It took Rafe a moment to figure out why. As was standard, the two fireteams had switched positions in the formation, meaning Tavis was now supposed to be on point. But he failed to assume his position, instead regarding Rafe quietly.

He was waiting, Rafe realized. Tavis had not waited for Rafe's permission to assume the role of fireteam one's leader, but now he was waiting for Rafe's approval before taking point. Rafe wondered what had changed between then and now, even as he dipped his head, granting Tavis the permission he sought. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafe saw that Volk was watching. He couldn't begin to speculate as to what the stormy dispositioned Corporal thought of that.

At once, Tavis moved to the front of the formation and set out. Theran moved behind him on one side, Onoff on the other, Phisher hanging back. The rest of the squad spread out behind them, maintaining visual contact as best they could in the pouring rain, resulting in a more tightly packed unit than Rafe would have preferred. They crouched as low as the terrain permitted them while they were moving, and Tavis moved them in such a way as to have the best cover, rather than the shortest distance.

They were even more cautious now than before, if that were at all possible. They had more to worry about now than the odd Temmie or deep pool with a shark in it. There had been an off chance before that droids might be in the area, now it was a virtual certainty.

More, Rafe realized that there had doubtless been droids in the area they had already traversed, and they were lucky not to have encountered them. Obviously, the droids had known where they were going. It was the only possible explanation. Otherwise, why here and now? Given the entire planet was a battleground, there were plenty of outposts and bases which were easier to reach, and of greater strategic value. If the only objective had been to take the clones by surprise, that the attack had come here and now was a tremendous coincidence. No, it was far more likely that Caden was right in suggesting the presence of a spy in their midst.

Perhaps the delays and being knocked off course had been a blessing in disguise. It seemed ill to think that when Caden had been so badly injured as a result of it, but Rafe couldn't entirely discount the notion anyway.

It occurred to him that the Separatists had to know what intel Bean was carrying if they were so desperate to stop him from delivering it. But most intel, particularly time sensitive intel, was only valuable so long as the enemy didn't know you had it. Supply deliveries and troop deployments and even battle plans could easily be changed if you knew the enemy knew what you intended to do. Whatever Bean knew, the Separatists knowing that he knew it changed nothing. If anything, they seemed all the more desperate to see that he was killed before he could complete his mission.

Rafe was only now beginning to understand what being a sergeant meant. As a clone, he had always viewed himself and every one of his brothers as expendable. But a good sergeant did not lead his men to their deaths without reason, it was his duty to do everything possible to make sure they survived, so long as it didn't prevent them from completing their mission. He had to weigh their orders against the lives of his men, and now in the field he found that carrying out his orders to the letter would leave the mission incomplete. To leave Bean and Tavis at the ruined outpost would be to virtually guarantee they would fail to complete their mission. But going on with them was to risk his squad without orders demanding that he do so. Doing the right thing wasn't as easy as it looked from the outside.

If his decision got his men killed, Rafe would never be able to forgive himself. They were his responsibility, as much as the equipment he was charged with the maintenance and use of. A clone valued his blaster above his personal safety, it was not his to lose or break, but instead it belonged to the GAR. A squad ceased to be just a bunch of clones, but instead became soldiers belonging to the GAR, whose experience and training made each of them more valuable than any single blaster.

Rafe had never understood it before now. This was the difference between a sergeant in the GAR and a soldier of lower rank. He understood Volk's open hostility now, at least in part.

Though he had lacked the rank, Volk had shouldered the responsibility of a sergeant. The squad was his to command, and to protect. He was responsible for them in all respects, for their lives as well as any actions they might take. He would be credited with anything -good or bad- that they did, and would be counted responsible if any of them was injured, killed or otherwise lost.

No wonder he begrudged the intrusion of a stranger who might or might not take care of his men.

And what of Tavis? He had served as the squad sergeant for Fortune Actual on Onithera, and had afterward been promoted to full sergeant rank. Had concern for those under his command perhaps clouded his judgment? Had the actions he'd taken been to protect his men, regardless of the risk to himself? He had to have known that what he'd done would get him killed, either by those in authority over him or by the very soldiers of the GAR itself. For what possible reason could he have committed to action that would lose him command of his squad, and perhaps get him executed?

He was obviously no deserter, nor did Rafe believe he was a spy. If he were either of those, he'd have escaped when he had the chance, not remained where he could be found, taken in, interrogated, stripped of rank and then offered to the lions as it were. Why then? Why had he done it?

Rafe didn't know. What he did know was that it was a question he should have thought to ask earlier.

He feared that it was now too late, even if he did find the answer.

Nattan had concerns of his own, which also related to his being a sergeant and responsible for those who served under him.

Though he was no medic, it was evident to Nattan that Caden was in the process of dying. Indeed, without medical treatment, he would almost assuredly be dead before Fortune Actual returned. If they returned.

Caden was not under Nattan's command, strictly speaking.

Though it was pleasant to think of every clone in the army as being interchangeable, the simple fact was that this was unrealistic. Clones had to learn, in far less time than any ordinary beings, how to go from being children to being men. At the same time, they had to learn the art of violence, but also the discipline to keep it in check. Some went through a more extensive training period to prepare them for the rigors of higher command.

Put plainly, Caden was not a tank soldier, not by training or by command. He had been relieved of his duty by his sergeant, and left without any order to end that relief under any circumstances. Caden had no inherent duty to the tank, nor had it been expected of him to participate in the battle. Even had the tank crew been down a man, it would not have occurred to Nattan to assign Caden, even had he not been so injured as he was. By no law or regulation had he been required to fight, and his brothers would not have thought less of him for not participating. His service had been of value, but Nattan did not believe Caden had been indispensable, and he was quite certain the PFC had not thought of himself as such.

And yet, Caden had fought with and for the tanker crew, entirely of his own volition, likely increasing the trauma to his damaged body in the process.

Nattan's first loyalty was supposed to be his tank and crew. And that meant staying with the vehicle and defending it at all costs. But Caden had saved their lives, and his time was running out. A tank could be replaced, loyalty, initiative and capability such as Caden had earlier displayed could not.

What was more, Sgt. Rafe had left the PFC under the care and protection of Sergeant Nattan and his men. If they continued to do nothing, they would be shirking their responsibilities, and letting a good man die. But could Nattan justify abandoning the tank to save just one life? A clone's life?

Or was there some way he could save both the man and the equipment?

He half hoped that Caden would simply keel over dead now, and save him the anguish of making a decision that could cost him everything he held dear. His sense of loyalty to his brother? Or his sense of duty to the Grand Army of the Republic?

It was a choice which no clone trooper should have had to make, yet it was exactly the sort of decision that sergeants, lieutenants and everything above them had to make all the time. If they were wrong, they, their men or those they were charged with the protection of would suffer the consequences. The consequences usually being death of anywhere between one and all of the above.

This was the cost of being too good at your job.

Nattan didn't fully comprehend it, but this was also the price of serving in or with members of Fortune Actual. They never could do things the easy way, and generally left everyone around them in a state of consternation. In an army of many beings who were essentially one, they were aliens, outsiders, bizarre offshoots from the main whole, incomprehensible, inescapable and unignorable.

"Positioning scanners are still unreliable," Logan reported to Nattan, "But, assuming the information we've got is correct, there's an Anuri settlement north of our location, maybe a day's march."

Nattan had left one of the gunners in the piloting position, choosing to speak directly to Logan. One of the other gunners had gone to check on Caden when he failed to respond after the end of the battle.

"Sir, if you want my opinion," Logan said, with as much ease as someone discussing past events that were set in stone, "we'd never make it on foot. We have neither the training nor the experience to cope with the dangers of Morassis, and we haven't got the firearms to take out another contingent of clankers if we meet them on the ground."

"You skipped the part where regulations are explicit about tanks. We cannot all abandon Beauty, and I wouldn't want to," Nattan said, "And we haven't the numbers to make splitting up a reasonable course."

"Sarge, you and I have worked together for a long time. I know you. And I know you want to save that kid. But I just don't see how it can be managed."

"That one's no kid, Logan," Nattan said, with equal mildness of tone, and then changed the subject, "Now, what course of action would you propose if something were to happen to Fortune, if for some reason they were unable to come back for us?"

"Since you asked, it's my opinion that they've no reason to come back at all," Logan told him.

"Elaborate."

"The base we came from has been destroyed, there's nothing for us or them to go back to. They know PFC Caden is dying and cannot be safely moved far by hand. Without their damned slug, they have no means with which to guide us, their guess is as good as mine about what ground will hold under Beauty's weight and what ground won't. There is no possible benefit to coming back for us."

"Except keeping their word."

"With respect, it was Sergeant Rafe who gave his word, and I don't believe we'll be seeing him again. You saw how his squad treated him, and we've both heard the stories. They're a bunch of wild animals, with a rabid one as their leader. Sergeant Rafe has got about as much chance of surviving in the wilds of Morassis with that squad as that kid in the back has without medical aid."

Nattan sighed. He had always found Logan's tendency to listen to idle gossip a bit tiresome. But his spotter might have a point. Certainly he'd made the one Nattan had been hoping for.

"Well, if they're not coming back, what do we do?"

"There's only one thing we can do," Logan said matter-of-factly, "Try to make it to a base on our own."

"You think you can do that?" Nattan asked.

They were both uncomfortably aware that they had nearly sunk twice now, just staying where they were. That retracing their steps would be a waste of time and that they would therefore have to forge a new trail, with Logan marking the path for Nattan as best he could. It was more than risky, it was bordering on absolutely suicidal.

Still, they couldn't just stay here forever and hope someone would come and save them. In the grand scheme of things, they were expendable. Aside from which, there was just one squad somewhere out there in the untamed swamp of Morassis that had any idea they were still alive, much less where they were.

Logan shook his head ruefully, then said, "I don't see as it matters one way or another. You're going to ask me to try it anyhow. Just so we're clear, I'll try for you, not that kid in back."

"But you will try," Nattan spoke it as a statement, not a question.

"Yeah," Logan sighed, "I'll try."

Nattan clapped Logan on the shoulder, "And that, my friend, is why I keep you around."

"Because I'm an idiot who'll try anything you suggest?"

"No," Nattan said, "Because you're man enough to admit that there's a possibility that there's something you can't do, but you're still brave enough to try."

"Exactly," Logan said, "An idiot who'll try anything you suggest."

"Whatever makes you happy, Logan."

"Some good solid ground beneath me," Logan said, "That's what would make me happy."

"Well," Nattan said, "If we survive this, maybe we'll eventually get reassigned to one of those rocky planets, where there isn't enough water to keep a sparrow alive."

"That would suit me fine," Logan grumbled, turning his attention to his display screens.

Nattan left him to his work and took over the driver seat, returning the gunner to his post. He then radioed the gunner who'd gone to check on Caden.

"PFC Caden's unconscious again, sir," came the report, "But going over the log of shots fired from this station, it looks like he made every one count. No misses recorded. Not one single miss."

And that, Nattan thought to himself, is why we have to make sure he lives to fight another day.

There was also a small part of him saying that he was the one who'd been driving the AT-TE when it stepped on Caden. He had broken Caden, and now it was his responsibility to fix him.