Interlude II

Friends

Captain Rex sat at Chopper's table in the mess of the Resolute, a hot mug of caf warming his hands, waiting.

There were some troopers, ironically those that had been on Christophsis, who didn't trust Chopper because of his inclusion in Slick's squad. There'd been rumors about Sergeant Slick's squad, though orders from Kamino and the Senate had been to cover up the actions of a traitor; as though something like that could be covered up. Even if the men in Slick's squad never spoke of it, there would have been the guards, the brothers in the mess he and Cody had interviewed. He and Cody had done what they could for the members of Slick's squad, separating them and sending them to different companies. Originally, he'd only decided to assign Chopper in the 501st to keep him under scrutiny, to see if he'd turn traitor also.

After Teth they had interviewed the men; Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, himself and Cody. They'd heard stories of coercion, physical and mental abuse, rape, a slew of Slick's conflicting barracks regulations. He heard about the price of a favor. Oddly, every man but Chopper had minimized his own troubles, having no doubt he was still a good trooper. Chopper had softly shaken his head as he looked at the floor. "He's destroyed me. Your best option is to make me point man for the bombcatchers. I'll serve some use there."

No, Rex smiled; Chopper has been useful to the 501st. No less than the other men from Slick's squad; each had found a place in their new company.

Jester had made sergeant in the 212th while Sketch was a popular trooper in the Coruscant Guards, showing a talent for preventing fights and arguments as he hoped for a transfer to the 224th. He'd heard that Punch, on muddy Mimban, had also made sergeant, something easier to do in a war zone but not unless the trooper was sergeant material to begin with. Commander Gree of the 41st Elite reported that, after a rough beginning full of misunderstandings, Gus was working well with his squad and had volunteered for additional training as a medic when the 41st had lost two of its four.

Rex would have like to promote Chopper to sergeant; he had good instincts and skills. Slick had been right in that assessment. The court martial prevented any promotions so Rex used Chopper where and how he could.

Chopper had excellent write-ups with the ongoing droid study. His reports were virtues of conciseness and accuracy, lauded by virtually every general and commander of an active company. Commander Tano, after several tries and assistance from General Skywalker and himself, had also presented documentation praising Chopper's resourcefulness and abilities as her second. On the battle of Kothis, his slicer skills had proven useful in restoring some level of communications to the troopers and Senator Chuchi of Pantora had spoken especially well of the four men who'd been her guard on Orto Plutonia when she had offered graves for the dead troopers. Kamino required the return of all troopers' bodies retrieved from battle but she had insisted on a small presentation ceremony for their bravery before their departure. General Skywalker had written up the incident of the shattering droids for Chopper's file, couched in very general terms and referencing the work of one of the ARC Commandos – all, of course, highly classified.

In both battle and practice Chopper was coldly efficient and Rex wondered what demons demanded his perfection. Chopper still didn't open up, didn't regularly sit with others in the mess; but he was less the brittle, almost broken, man fresh from Slick machinations and a court martial and more a strong, seasoned trooper Rex trusted to guard his back.

"Captain," the object of his thoughts was there, a tray holding his breakfast and mug of caf in his hands. Chopper paused only slightly before setting down his food. Rex was off-duty, obviously heading off to the gym after the caf.

"Eat first, Chopper. I just want to ask a few questions about how Kev is doing."

Dutifully, Chopper took a forkful of egg and nerf steak mix, shoved it into his mouth chewing the minimum number of times as taught on Kamino. He took a swallow of the caf and turned his attention to Rex.

"He's doing well, sir. He misses…" Chopper thought for a moment. "We both miss Sergeant Echo and Fives and Kev also misses his old squad." Chopper dipped his head, then brought it back up to Rex; mismatched eyes to golden brown. "He's steady in battle, someone you can trust with your back. You've got his stats and I know those have gotten better."

Rex nodded. "Substantially. How about socially? Does he want to pick fights anymore?"

Chopper had to think about that and his eyes narrowed. "I haven't seen it much. When he first came to the barracks, he wanted to fight everyone; I think Fives worked with him on that. Recently I saw he was angry at something someone had said. He wanted to call one-on-one but he bit it back."

"Why didn't he challenge?" Rex leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

"It's wasn't the right time or place and Kev knew that." Chopper pushed his tray aside, bringing his arms up to the table mirroring Rex. "Further, he hasn't been seeking a way to push it. He's let it drop completely."

Rex nodded. "Chopper, do you think Kev would make a good sergeant?"

Chopper dropped his face but not before Rex had seen a quick flash of envious regret. Chopper stared at the table, his jaw working as he thought.

"Not yet, sir. He needs more experience in battle and in dealing with people. But he will make a good one, Captain."

"Let me know when he's ready to go back to his old squad, Chopper." Rex stood.

"Couple of days, Captain. Couple of days." Chopper looked up then stood at parade rest.


Kev had seen most of Chopper's scars by now but he was still a little surprised to see Chopper come in from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Their barracks was one of the closest to the shower. It was late shift and there wouldn't be too many men at the showers; probably no one, Kev decided, if Chopper hadn't bothered to pull on something more.

"You've wanted to see them, Kev." Chopper began in his rough voice.

Emotion, thought Kev hearing Fives' voice in his head. Rough voice means fear, anxiety, concern; cheek-chewing and jaw-grinding is only decision making.

"If you want to show them, Chopper," Kev replied, but couldn't hold the interest out of his voice.

Chopper sat on his bunk. "These," he gesture to his head and face, taking in the broad sweep of his shoulders, "are from Geonosis. Our gunship was shot down, the pilot hit the ground at an angle and we slid for a while then flipped."

Kev winced; a flipped gunship meant the death of pilot, co-pilot and turret gunners automatically.

Chopper nodded at Kev's wince. "Slid more then stopped. As I climbed out, a bug got me a glancing blow with a blaster." Chopper tapped the side of his head. "I went down; my helmet was destroyed and counted dead so they didn't find me until body collection. During the fighting I also received grenade or some other kind of explosive damage."

Kev nodded.

Chopper stood and turned, showing the scars on the upper side of his back, mostly his right shoulder. "Typical explosive damage, I've been told. The pressure rips the skin."

"Is that..." began Kev then he choked, coughed and began again. "Is that why Coric occasionally asks you to medic training?"

Chopper grunted a laugh as he nodded. "For the most part. Coric also asks about what makes it easier on the trooper." Chopper paused then turned, showing his chest to the other trooper. He gestured with his hand. "Can you identify this?"

Kev looked at the deep indented scars, kerned with the red, rough skin of burn. Four arms radiating from a center that was at the low end of Chopper's ribs and on his left side.

"LAAT turret crossbeams." Kev looked up at Chopper. "Can I ask how the crossbeam wrapped around your side?" His voice was soft, prepared for a negative answer.

Chopper was nodding, a deep frown on his face.

"The force of the blow compressed my ribs and I was also moving, turning. That's the one I …" he paused then continued. "The one where I remember all the pain. We were on a relief mission; carrying tibanna primed as small engine fuel so it burns rather than explodes. Ground forces took us out, the firefight shredded open the canisters splashing the tibanna everywhere and set it on fire" He gestured to the scars tracing down the front of his legs, cataloging them. "Fire, shrapnel, hot metal."

Kev stared at the scars, wondering if they were why Chopper had pounded a hollow into the metal of the Resolute.

"The scars on my back and down the back of my left leg are from when an AAT took out one of our AV-7's. Blew it into a couple of pieces and flipped the biggest piece on top of me." Chopper had turned again and Kev saw the cutting scars over the red, rough skin. "I was awake the whole time, but it didn't hurt. I didn't even realize I was injured until Coric and Zeer pull me out. I thought I was merely pinned down." He gave a rough chuckle. "I even got a few tinnies from my position under the AV."

Chopper sat, letting Kev see his scars openly, raising his arm so Kev could see the quartered crossbeam scar wrapping around his side, leaning so Kev could see more closely the mix of blaster and explosive wound on the side of his head. He held out his hands for Kev's inspection. "I got these pulling men out of a burning gunship."

Kev sat back, his thumb nail against his teeth, a worried frown on his face. "Do they hurt, Chopper?"

Chopper shrugged. "Sometimes the skin feels a little tight on the shoulder and the knee." He rubbed a thumb over the back of one hand. "The knuckles, occasionally. Coric gave me a cream to rub into the skin; so it doesn't crack and bleed."

Kev was nodding, opening his mouth hesitantly then closing it as though he couldn't think of a question; or rather, couldn't think of a way to ask a question. Chopper leaned forward, reaching out with his hand and Kev became still.

"You've got your own scar now, Kev." Chopper lightly touched Kev on his chest, the fabric sliding over skin. "You'll figure out they don't mean too much. They don't mean you're slow, they don't mean you're an incompetent trooper."

Kev frowned.

"You used to think that, didn't you Kev? That a scar meant you'd been too slow." Chopper leaned back into the chair.

"Yeah, Chopper. Scars mean you…"

"I was shot out of the air, Kev." Chopper stood, agitated, his hands gripping the bars of the bunk above his. "Twice. Six hundred and eighty klicks is not slow. You were doing five hundred on the Freeco swoop when that big Talz took you out." Chopper shook his head vehemently. "That isn't slow. If you were slow, you were still faster than the guys who didn't make it back. You don't have to be afraid of scars, Kev."

Kev glanced at his armor, at the blue stripes decorating the arms then hung his head in apparent shame.

"You could have let me die, Chopper."

"No, I couldn't." Chopper's voice was… kind… and that almost made Kev weep. "There are worse things than being slow, Kev. There are worse things than scars." Chopper glanced at the hollow on the wall then back to Kev. "Watching your brothers die is a lot worse."

Kev's mouth opened and his eyes shut tightly. "I know." He whispered so quietly Chopper didn't so much hear him as see the form of his lips.

There was a long silence in the barracks, the only sound the steady inhalation and exhales of breathing.

"Tell me about it, Kev." Chopper finally said. "Tell me what happened to your first squad."

"Kamino," Kev had the back of his hand pressed to his lips. "When the Separatists attacked." He looked at Chopper. "We had finished everything; we even had our equipment and armor." He gave a faint grin. "So new we wore it constantly. We had our assignment, the Coruscant Guards, and were just waiting transport. Coruscant wasn't our dream. We were troopers. We wanted battle so we petitioned our assignments." He paused, looking at the floor and Chopper knew what he was feeling; regret for actions not taken, for words not spoken.

Kev glanced up in surprise at Chopper's hand on his shoulder. "If we'd gone directly to Coruscant," he said softly, "if we hadn't petitioned, they'd still be alive." Again Kev paused, looking down, his face showing his own pain, his eyes staring nowhere.

"One of the captains sent us down a corridor to clear it. He was planning on cutting off some droids on the way to the barracks. I never saw him alive again. We'd destroyed a squad of clankers and were feeling almost invincible after our victory. Ruk had a blaster wound to his knee and was packed over Cleave's shoulders. Cleave was our heavy gunner and had the Z6." Kev bit his lip. "In retrospect, Jimp or I should have had Ruk with our heavy gunner running point but Ruk and Cleave were brothers. We ended up in an ambush as we came to where the corridor hit an exterior platform. The captain wasn't there; just battledroids coming out of a drill ship that had come through the training hall wall. A pair of squid arms on the ship whipped out. Cleave and Ruk were pushed off the platform into the sea and I turned toward them to reach out. Hoping I could grab them… grab something. But there was nothing but sea mist. Enat and Jimp had moved to cover me. Right then, some of the 212th came around the curve of the platform. They took out the droids but were on their way to another portion of the city. At the end of that little skirmish, I was the only one of my squad still alive. I sat there and cried; refusing to believe my eyes and my readouts. Someone came, a sergeant I think, ordered me to get my shebs moving, clankers were coming. I ended up fighting with the 501st, and Coric slid me in with Sergeant Zeer's squad."

"So when your petition came through, you asked for the 501st." Chopper spoke softly.

"It was just admin work; fill in a blank on the assignment form and some officer's scrawled signature. When I got here and interviewed with Captain Rex, I asked for Sergeant Zeer's squad. Marker and Kru were on the same transport, they said we should stick together." Kev sat on his bunk, turning so he faced Chopper.

"You know they'll never take the place of your first squad."

"Yeah, I've kind of figured that out. But…," Kev paused, his brows furrowed in thought, "but with my first squad, I knew who I was. Most of the time now, I'm not sure."

Chopper looked at the hollow space in the wall, frowning and chewing his lower lip. "My first squad is dead; but I've still got good friends. People I can trust, people I like, people who like me. Do you see what I'm getting at, Kev? I was Twenty-three then and a brand new trooper just off Kamino. CT-41-9523. I didn't choose my name until after Christophsis. I'm not who I was when I was with my squad, I'm still learning who I am." He grunted a laugh. "I'm still becoming whoever I am."

"The whole company knows you, Chopper." Kev bit his lip. "Sometimes they're derogatory like Boomer. Some of them call you three quarter man."

"For the head injury," Chopper tapped the scars on the side of his head.

"Like I did, Chopper. I know better. Now I'd group me with the men who call you 'hard worn armor' and 'command's second'. Respectful of your skills and your capabilities but …" Kev's words trailed as if he didn't know how to continue.

Chopper nodded, his fingers rubbing his chin. "You don't have to like me, Kev. You've been a good trooper with me and Fives and Echo while they were here. You're a good brother and I appreciate you having my back. I think you'll be going back to your old squad soon. I saw Captain Rex in the mess after duty last night and he mentioned it."

Kev's expression brightened and he smiled. "I've got a lot to tell them. Good adventures. Sabacc. Painted armor. A hug." He glanced at the blue stripes against white, then back at Chopper with a searching gaze. Kev's face became drawn as he realized he did like Chopper; he was a good trooper with an opinion about most things though he didn't voice it very often. Chopper was kind and intelligent with a very well-hid dry sense of humor and he often was the best man to have guarding your back. No wonder he was the commander's second.

"You taught me, Chopper." Kev spread his fingers out, as though encompassing the entire world, "things. You've made me into a better trooper. With me fighting you every bit of the way. You and Fives and Echo. I'll teach my squad what I know." He glanced down at the floor, then the hollow space of Chopper's bunk. "Chopper, can we start again. Like it's new? I've done some things, made assumptions and been wrong. Been proven very badly wrong."

"No," replied Chopper. "There is no starting over."

"Oh," Kev turned his head despondently. He had wanted to try. He stared down at the bunk; where he'd moved simply to talk to Chopper through a nightmare when he had them, or simply to talk, getting to know the man.

"Listen, Kev. There's never going back. Not with anything or anyone. I can't just say, 'sure, let's start over', because there's already too much that's happened." Chopper was leaning back in his rack, his back to the wall; a familiar position for him.

Kev listened, frowning in thought. "Maybe we could…" but he blanked. There was nothing he could think of, nothing much. "Maybe just go on from here?" Kev asked hesitantly. "Not new, not erasing what's happened but…" His hands stretched out in front of him as though grasping some idea into tangibility. "Recognizing that I've changed." Kev glanced at the steel deck. "That we've both changed?" His voice was questioning and he turned his head to one side to see Chopper's reaction.

Chopper waited, looking at him with one golden brown eye and one pale, yellow-green.

"Maybe just go on from here?" Kev asked. "As friends?"

Chopper nodded and spoke slowly. "I think that sounds real good, Kev." He reached over to clasp Kev's forearm with his hand, brotherly warmth in that action.


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next chapter tomorrow...