DESTINY - CHAPTER 11
Rex woke to the sonic boom of a ship breaking atmosphere miles overhead. He ducked out of his room, glancing up at the skylights through which the first gray light of dawn barely whispered. Relief washed over him, glad Ahsoka was back safe, even returning a couple of hours ahead of schedule.
A minute later the sound of retro thrusters filtered through the walls and Rex didn't like what he heard. He knew what VCX-100 engines sounded like and this was not the light freighter. The throaty growl of these engines was unmistakable, belonging to a YV-865 Aurore-class freighter. The preferred starship of pirates.
Rex ducked into his room and donned his armor and boots in less than a minute. He wished more than anything he had his helmet and sorely missed his twin DC-17 blasters. But there was no time to worry about that now.
Rex rummaged around the work benches, searching for something he could use as a weapon. He found a piece of heavy pipe as long as his arm. Not ideal, but it would do for now. If pirates came searching the supply building he'd give them one haran of a fight.
Taking a position beside the door with his back against the wall, Rex put his body into combat mode, controlling his breathing and tensing his muscles, making ready for battle. As he waited he heard several explosions, the sound coming from deep within the camp. Then shouts rang out, followed by blaster fire and screams of terror.
Rex hissed out a string of curses. If only the blasted collar wasn't around his neck he could get out there and help. Most of the clan left in the camp were farmers or mechanics, artisans or builders. Their efforts were essential to the health of the community, but they weren't warriors. The clan's best fighters had gone with Ahsoka on the mission to save Farsa-Minor.
As shouts and screams continued in the background Rex heard the crunch of footsteps outside approaching the door. He lifted his pipe, ready to strike.
The door slid open and a huge Falleen male with bulging muscles and a Black Sun Syndicate tattoo on his face, stepped inside. Rex estimated the green-skinned behemoth to be at least two and a half meters tall and easily weighing over one hundred and thirty kilograms. In his hand was a vibro-shock wand.
Rex grabbed the Falleen's wrist and jerked him into the room throwing him off balance. As the pirate stumbled forward Rex brought the pipe down on his head with a satisfying crack. The pirate dropped to the floor, unconscious.
Agony exploded across Rex's back, shooting through every nerve ending. He stumbled forward, dropped to one knee and managed to spin around. Another giant Falleen male advanced on him, shock wand in hand, still sizzling from its contact with Rex's armor.
The pirate jammed the shock wand into Rex's chest plate seizing the muscles surrounding his still fragile ribs. Rex groaned in agony, falling backward onto his butt.
The Falleen continue to advance, slashing his wand down for another blow. Rex used his pipe to parry the thrust, driving the wand upward where it glanced off the pauldron on his left shoulder and hit his restraining collar. Pain slashed through him and he dropped to his back. His vision blurred as he fought to stay conscious.
Standing over Rex the pirate prepared a blow that would surely knock Rex out. Rex summoned every last ounce of energy, braced his back on the floor, and kicked both of his boots up into his attacker's groin.
Suck on that you piece of osik.
The Falleen let out a groan as his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed on top of Rex.
Fighting off the pain and struggling to catch his breath, Rex managed to push the unconscious Falleen off. He grabbed onto a large storage container, bracing himself against it as he pulled himself to his feet. He took a moment to get his bearings and assess the situation.
That's when he saw the restraining collar laying on the floor.
He felt around his neck to be sure the blows he'd received hadn't knocked him senseless. Sure enough, his neck was bare. Rex grabbed the collar, examining the place where the two halves came together. The only explanation he could fathom of why it had dropped off was that the powerful electric current of the shock wand had fried the electromagnetic lock that held it together.
Adrenalin flooded his veins as he realized that now he could take the fight to the pirates. He was a captain in the Grand Army of the Republic, bred to be the ultimate warrior. These scum were threatening people he cared about and Rex was going to stop them.
Rex pulled a spool of wire from one of the shelves and proceeded to tie each pirate's wrists and legs together behind them and then tied a length of wire linking their wrists and their ankles. Then he looped a noose around their necks, running the end down their backs and tying it off to their ankles. If they struggled against their bonds the noose would tighten around their necks, which would quickly motivate them to stop their efforts. For good measure he stuffed rags tightly into their mouths to prevent them from screaming should they regain consciousness before he had finished with their comrades.
Rex checked a blaster he pulled from one pirate's holster. He tried to ready the pistol to fire and discovered a DNA biometric lock built into the grip. Only another Falleen could use it. The other pirate's blaster was identically configured. Rex threw the two useless blasters on the floor and pounded them into pieces with his pipe.
Both pirates' com units met the same fate as their blasters.
Rex picked up a vibro-shock wand. He twirled it in his hand and slashed it through the air to get a sense of its weight and balance. It was similar to the batons he'd used this past year in close quarters combat training with General Skywalker. The additional offensive capability of electro-shock was a nice bonus. It activated much like a Jedi lightsaber. Rex wrapped his palm around the hilt, squeezing the button that energized the wand. It sprang to life, crackling and sizzling, the end flashing and sparking. Rex nodded to himself.
This will do.
Rex grabbed the other shock wand and shoved their ends into his empty blaster holsters. They wedged in tight enough so he knew he could move without them falling out.
Rex's balance had returned and his vision had cleared. As he walked to the door, he planned his next move.
The first priority was intelligence. His current working theory was that the pirates were here to capture clan members and sell them off-world to slave brokers like the Zygerrians, a practice the Black Sun Syndicate was known for. That was why they were using shock wands as their primary weapons. He needed to reconnoiter to confirm his suspicions and the place to start was their ship.
Rex slipped out of the storage shed. The air was cold, the ground covered with a thin layer of snow. He kept low as he limped along the side of the building, favoring the pain from his reinjured ribs and the electric burn from the shock wand under his armor on his back.
When he broke into the thin forest separating the camp from the landing field he moved as silently as he could, keeping to the shadows of predawn. He was thankful that the white of his armor provided some camouflage against the snow.
At the edge of the clearing he crouched behind a tree and peered through the gray light. He'd been right. The pirates were flying an Aurore-class freighter. The loading ramp to the cargo hold was open with one Falleen standing guard. He needed to take down the guard quickly and quietly to avoid alerting anyone on the ship or the other pirates in the camp.
Staying just behind the tree line, Rex circled the clearing until he was at the guard's back. He gauged the distance to the guard at twenty meters. Picking up a fist-sized rock Rex took aim and tossed it high toward the far side of the clearing where it landed with a thud. As the Falleen jerked his head around and started moving toward the sound, Rex was already running full speed toward his back. Before the Falleen knew what had happened, Rex descended on him, jabbing the shock wand into his neck, dropping him like a stone.
Rex grabbed the unconscious guard's shoulders, grunting at the pain in his ribs as he pulled the dead weight behind the cargo bay ramp. He threw the guard's shock wand and blaster into the trees and smashed the com unit under his boot.
As quietly as he could Rex climbed the ramp to clear the rest of the ship. Walking through the cargo bay he noted three dozen cages stacked against the walls, each large enough to hold four or five adults. These pirates were definitely here for slaves.
As he approached the cockpit he heard a rhythmic tapping. Through the hatch he saw a female Falleen in the pilot's seat, her head framed by headphones and bobbing up and down while her hands tapped on the control console to music Rex couldn't hear. She obviously thought she was secure with a guard outside. Rex disabused her of her assumption with a shock wand to the neck.
Rex dragged the unconscious pilot along the gangway and down the cargo ramp, dumping her beside the guard. He reentered the hold and grabbed six sets of restraining cuffs hanging on the wall, stuffing two sets under his belt. Back outside he used the other four sets to secure both pirates, attaching one set of cuffs to a pirate's left wrist and right ankle and another set to the right wrist and left ankle. Even if they regained consciousness, neither was going anywhere.
Grabbing onto the cargo ramp for support Rex took a moment to rest. He was moving slower now, the pain in his side coming in sharp jabs. The burn on his back stung as his armor rubbed against it.
He didn't need to go on. Didn't need to push his body any further or endure any more pain. He could just walk up the cargo ramp, climb into the pilot's seat, fire-up the engines and make his escape. He'd be back to the GAR, his brothers, and the Republic in a couple of days.
It was his duty as a soldier and an officer to do everything in his power to escape if captured. It was embedded in his clone DNA, ingrained in his mind through training, solidified by his loyalty to his general. He was honor bound by his code to return to the Republic. To rejoin the fight. To save the galaxy from Separatist oppression.
As Rex's mind raced he felt an ache building in his chest. Those thoughts which had been programmed into his clone body and mind … somehow, they felt wrong.
Just like programming a battle droid. Is that really all I am?
No.
He was more than programming. More than a clone. More than one repetition among millions. He was a man. A unique individual with his own thoughts and feelings and desires. His own concepts of what was right and wrong based on his experiences, not on the agenda of someone or something else.
If Rex had learned anything over the past months he'd spent alone with himself — struggling with questions of purpose, meaning and destiny — it was that not only did he have the ability to think and decide for himself, it was his responsibility to act on those thoughts and decisions. To do what he believed was right, even if it contradicted how he'd been trained and what he'd been taught.
He could choose who and what was worthy of his loyalty. He could create a code to live by, informed by his own sense of morality, not one imposed on him by the Republic. He could live a life of honor and duty of his own making.
Every part of his being screamed that what the Republic was doing was wrong, and what this small band of cast-offs was doing was right. They were fighting to ease the suffering of others, each in their own way according to their skills and talents.
Right now, they needed his skills and talents. They needed his help to keep their efforts alive. And even if it was only for this day, Rex would join them in their battle to do good in the galaxy. It was his choice, and as he made it, the ache in his chest faded, replaced by a sense of power and purpose.
Rex pushed himself off the ramp and blew out a breath that fogged in the cold air. He gritted his teeth against the pain and started moving along the snow covered ground back toward the camp. He'd been hurt worse than this. It was nothing he couldn't handle. He focused on the pain, using it to channel his anger at the pirates into action, just as he'd done a thousand times before.
Ahsoka chewed her lower lip, anxiety pulsing through every nerve ending. Something was wrong.
She leaned over Bandirx's shoulder as he worked the comm system at the navigation and communications station in the cockpit.
"Have you tried non-subspace frequencies?" she asked.
"Yes," Bandrix replied. "I've broadcast on every frequency and carrier band we've ever used. I've even pushed out our coded contact on open relay stations throughout the sector." Bandrix shook his head in frustration. "They're not responding."
Ahsoka turned to stand behind Jin in the pilot's seat. She looked over his shoulder at the star lines streaking by in hyperspace. She was worried and felt helpless.
They'd agreed to reestablish contact with the clan when their ship was an hour from Axalon. Reesa should have been waiting on coms for their broadcast. But they'd received no response.
Ahsoka turned back to Bandrix. "Are you sure we have the correct contact time?"
"Yes, Commander," Bandrix said, his voice irritated. "I've triple checked our briefing notes."
Ahsoka sighed and put a hand on Bandrix's shoulder. "I know you did," she said. "I'm sorry. It's just … this isn't like Reesa — or any of them, for that matter."
Bandrix glanced at her over his shoulder. "No apologies necessary, Ahsoka," he said, his tone softer. "I'm worried too."
Even though it was just before dawn on Axalon, Reesa would have been up and monitoring coms. And if she hadn't been able to, Waunado or Manami or Dian'thy would have done so. The fact that none of them were responding meant that there was a serious problem back home.
Ahsoka turned to Jin. "How long before we drop out of hyperspace."
"Five minutes," he replied.
Ahsoka nodded, knowing it would be the longest five minutes of her life.