"I don't know what to do."
It was a difficult admission for Volk. It was especially hard to make such an admission to Tavis. No longer was it because Volk didn't respect Tavis. Now it was because he did. And also because Tavis seemed much smaller than before, laid up in bed. When he looked at Volk, his eyes seemed distant, like he wasn't really there somehow. It scared Volk. It told him that, even with medical treatment, it was possible that Tavis wasn't going to come back from this. If he didn't that meant one thing to Volk. That he was responsible for whatever happened to Fortune Actual from here on out.
Even on Onithera, it was not a responsibility he wanted. Here on board a ship, it was one he feared that he could not handle. Making his problems worse was Phisher, who had returned to the ranks. Somehow, he had persuaded multiple parties that this was where he wanted to be, and that he could be effective among the clones. It had been somewhat presumptuous, Volk thought, Phisher assuming that he was welcome to return to the squad after everything.
Pressured by Rex from one angle, Phisher from another, the squad from still another and the nerve-wracking surroundings he found himself in, Volk had finally broken and come to Tavis for help.
"What do you think is best for the squad?" Tavis asked.
That he asked instead of telling sent a chill down Volk's spine. It was a test. Or perhaps a message that Tavis wasn't going to be the leader anymore, that now it was up to Volk. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. Independent, strong willed, stubborn Volk had been worn down into asking for direction at great cost to his personal opinion of himself. And he wasn't getting the answer he sought.
"They don't seem bothered by Phisher," Volk said slowly, "and I don't believe he means any harm."
"So what do you do about him?" Tavis asked, then waited for Volk to not answer the posed question before answering it, "Nothing. He wants to follow you for the rest of his life, let him. You know he's effective, an asset and not a burden. And the squad harmony isn't upset by him. Phisher is a non-issue."
Volk nodded quietly. Easy to say. Not so easy for him to think that.
"And how do you feel about Captain Rex?" Tavis asked.
That was a more difficult question. Volk had once been quick to judge, but he'd made a mistake with Tavis, one he did not care to repeat. He was slower in his assessments of character these days.
"He seems like he's trying to help," Volk replied finally, "He's been giving us assignments, but it's good. It's been keeping us busy, keeping Damyu and Theran out of trouble. I don't have to keep an eye on them much when they're busy working. But he's... I dunno... a bit..."
"Like you," Tavis said, "He came loaded with confidence, but now he's unsure."
"Unsure? Seems to pretty certain to me," Volk said.
"You and I both know that what you show on the outside isn't what you feel inside. Not all the time anyway. So what do you want?"
Volk balked at the question. What he wanted wasn't the issue. He avoided answering by saying nothing.
"You want to trust him?" Tavis pressed, edging Volk into an answer.
"It'd be nice," Volk admitted quietly.
Before anyone but Tavis, Volk would have denied it. Denied that he wanted or needed to trust anyone. But with Tavis, Volk found he couldn't lie. And concealing the truth was absolutely out of the question. He got the impression that Tavis would see right through him.
"So let him know that," Tavis said, like it would be just that easy, "He's shown you that he wants to help you, you can show him that you want to trust him."
Volk sort of stared, like Tavis had just suggested he grow wings and fly.
"Not in words. Neither you nor he put stock in words. Use your actions. He can see, and he'll respect that. You don't have to lose his respect to ask for his help. I told Phisher something awhile back, and now I want to tell you the same thing. Your problem is that you never learned to trust. But you'll have to learn it now. Captain Rex may not have been on that planet with us, but he is like us. He's been hurt, he's been betrayed, he's fought for his own, and seen men die. Spend more time thinking about the similarities than the differences, Volk. And trust him, if that's what you want to do. End of lecture. Now get outta here, the squad's probably looking for you."
"Yes sir."
Volk had a pretty clear idea on how to show his trust. But he wasn't sure it was a good idea. He wasn't confident in it. But, as Tavis had said, he had to trust someone. And he knew of only one way to show that trust. Only one way to test it, and to be sure.
He returned to the squad, who had been hovering around their bunks where he'd left them. He had told them to stay put until he got back, and stay they had, just as he would have expected. Unfortunately, they couldn't spend their entire lives at stay. Unlike droids, they couldn't be put on a shelf until needed. They were very much alive, and required experiences and interactions to keep them in condition. Condition for what? Well, fighting Volk supposed. But also for not fighting.
"How's Tay?" Doc asked for the rest of them.
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Volk replied.
"And how well is that?" Doc wanted to know.
"About as well as he is."
Volk evaded further questioning by leading off towards the mess hall and breakfast. Yesterday evening, Theran had gotten his own serving of dinner for the first time. Volk had no doubt about whether or not Rex had something to do with it. Rex hadn't volunteered anything, and Volk hadn't asked.
Rex was already present, at the table Fortune Actual had been assigned. Volk watched the others carefully as they crossed the room and joined Rex. They didn't hesitate to come right up to him, and milled around only briefly, asking and receiving permission to join him without exchanging words.
Theran quickly tried to snatch food from Rex (the surest sign Theran liked someone) and was thwarted. Hissing his disappointment, Theran proceeded to eat his own food in ravenous gulps. He was easily the noisiest eater in the place, but that was no great feat.
"Volk, you comin'?" Garm asked when Volk lingered by the door.
"No," Volk replied, "I'm not hungry. You go ahead."
Garm looked like he might get up and follow Volk. But when Volk left, nobody came after him. Good. Very, very good. Volk decided to actually take a walk around the ship, and try to get in touch with what it was specifically about it that set him on edge, that he didn't like. Well, let's face it, that he was afraid of. It shortly came to his attention that the something was everything.
There was no sun, no moon. No wind, and no scents blown in on it. No sounds of tiny animals scurrying about, letting you know with their little noises that they did not feel threatened and so there was little chance that anything dangerous had passed this way recently. No cover like trees or tall grasses. No way to read what anybody was thinking or feeling, clones in the hallways usually wore their armor and thus concealed their expressions and how they were moving. Volk had learned to take in the most minute details, and the broader, more expansive gestures for communication went right over his head. He missed them entirely. He didn't know where anyone was going, or what they meant to do when they got there. And droids. Droids wandered the halls like roving scavengers. He hated the sight of them, the sound of them. Most of all, he hated how they moved, in a completely unnatural and therefore unpredictable fashion. And the feeling of motion of the ship. Oh, you weren't supposed to feel it, artificial gravity and all that. But it wasn't a planet turning, living and breathing beneath your feet. It was a movement you could sense without feeling it, and there was a cold unnaturalness to that too. Volk realized that he hated space travel, and everything to do with it.
He had never taken conscious notice of the fear he felt every time he stepped on board a ship. It expressed itself in tension, aggression, shortness of temper, inattentiveness to superiors and so on. Volk hadn't even admitted to himself that he could feel fear. Fear was weakness. Fear was something to be ashamed of. And fear of space travel was utterly inexcusable. To admit such a fear was to fail at being what he was designed to be. It was to be rendered useless and unwanted. Of course, denying it had the same effect in the end, as his behaviors became increasingly problematic. Volk didn't know that though.
But he did know now why he had been able to understand Tavis' fear of water, why his first impulse to kill any with weakness had been silenced. He had a fear of his own. One he was now able to recognize in himself, given a moment to do so. Having seen it, now he had only to manage it.
He had no one to help him. He was too proud, and too independent. Even though he might have accepted offered help from Tavis, he would not ask for it. Not for himself. But he didn't need it either. He had learned a lot on Onithera. In fact, one might even say he'd been reborn there. He was not the same as he had been before. He was a lot stronger, most especially inside, where it really counted.
Volk had never been one to take the easiest way out. The easiest thing to do was just to keep cringing, waiting for the ordeal to be over. To just hold on and endure it. But he had sense enough to know that the longer he clung to the fear, the stronger it got, and the more it overwhelmed him.
And so, he confronted it. He found the loudest portion of the ship with a view of the stars that he could, and stayed there. Looking out at space, there was a tremendous feeling of emptiness. Aloneness. Not because space was void, it wasn't. It was full of things, mostly stars. But there was so much space between them, and so many of them were devoid of life. It was so huge, and so nearly empty out there. And Volk was surrounded by that emptiness, by that loneliness. He didn't like it.
But he knew the key. He didn't have to like it. Merely accept it. As he had accepted every challenge Onithera threw at him. He'd faced them, gotten through, survived. He didn't think of Onithera as being so much a negative or positive experience. It simply was. That was what he had to come to with space travel. It wasn't good or bad. It just was. That was easier said than done.
But he knew, from experience, that it could be done.
Rex wasn't sure what it meant when Volk refused to approach the table. He had been pleased to see the squad readily approaching, even without Volk to lead them, though he had misinterpreted their hesitation to sit, thinking it was wariness as opposed to respect. But they did join him, Garm sat right next to him in his usual spot. They also included Rex in their conversation, asking his opinions and telling stories specifically for his benefit, and encouraging him to share a few of his own. He'd also started to notice that the supposed fights he'd seen were actually more of play, there seemed to be no malice in them, and it was always clear who was the dominant and who was the submissive in the exchange. All in all, they were actually a lively and sociable bunch.
"Does Volk often go off by himself?" Rex asked eventually.
"Not hardly," Garm said, "And almost never since we got on this ship."
"I don't think he likes me much," Rex commented.
"You kidding?" Damyu piped up, "If he didn't like you, you'd know it."
"That's right," Doc agreed, "Volk doesn't like somebody, he's never shy about showing it."
"Practically tried to rip Tavis apart before they finally started getting along," Onoff grunted.
Phisher nudged Onoff with his elbow and he shut up. Rex noted the exchange, but did not ask about it. Something had transpired that they didn't want to discuss. Probably rather like how Rex would never mention that the entire squad had ganged up on him and beat him senseless. If he ever did, they'd all be in serious trouble. Potentially himself included for having let it happen.
"You think he'd put up with you hanging around if he didn't think much of you?" Caden put in, "He doesn't like you, it don't matter who you are, he'll put you in your place."
"He's a bit of a lone wolf," Damyu said, "But you get used to him."
Rex decided to accept that, at least for the moment. It certainly felt better than the other possibility, which was that Volk was rejecting him entirely, and that rejection was generating a distance between Volk and the rest of Fortune Actual.
And then Rex realized something more profound. It happened in an instant, and he didn't see it coming.
Someone being careless about where they were walking stepped on the end of Theran's tail. Theran, who had been lounging on the floor near the table, leaped to his feet and let out a yowl, swinging around to snap at the offender when they didn't immediately get off him.
Rex, remembering what Tavis had said as well as his own experience in combating the squad, put a hand on Garm's arm, holding the guardian in check. He felt Garm's tension, a fury rippling through him, suppressed only because he was being held down. But Rex hadn't counted on Caden's reaction.
Caden was on his feet in an instant, and Rex knew things were about to get really bad. Theran was part of Caden's team, and the chick was also his to protect, raise and train. Rex felt a brief flash of utter terror. He hadn't worked much with Caden, and hadn't the faintest idea as to whether the leader of Fortune Actual's fireteam one would listen if he talked. But, with Caden on the other side of the table, Rex had no time to reach him. Not before a fight started.
It was exactly the situation Rex had most feared. And he had one chance to stop it.
"Caden," Rex got to his feet, preparing to enter the fray if there chanced to be one, "Sit."
Caden swung to look at Rex on hearing his name. Wordlessly, still seething, he obeyed. Rex turned to the offender and admonished him to watch where he was walking and be more careful. He didn't add that the stupid klutz could just as easily have stepped on a mine and killed himself and everyone near him. Or that he should never assume he was safe just because he wasn't in a battlefield.
Rex would chew on him later. Now wasn't the time.
Theran made a little mewling sound and went to Caden to be comforted and reassured. And then he rolled his eyes in the direction of the man who'd stepped on him and hissed at the retreating figure.
It was then that Rex knew what Volk had done. Had been doing since they arrived. That an incident just like that had not occurred already was a testament to Volk's alertness, and his control over his squad. Volk had just entrusted the squad's safety (not to mention everyone around them) to Rex.
No halfway about it. Volk had given Rex complete responsibility and authority. And the squad had responded. Rex didn't realize he'd been charged with their care and education by anyone save Anakin, and hadn't known just how much they accepted him.
And they accepted him completely.
For the first time, he knew that they could be saved. That they would be alright. He could control them, which meant he could tell them how to behave, and they would do it. It would take time for their habits to change, for them to learn new survival behaviors for their instincts to activate. But it could be done.
He could do it. Fortune Actual would have a future.