This story takes place one day after 'Legacy of Terror', where Obi-Wan, Anakin, Cody and the other troopers rescue Luminara from the Geonosians.
Co-written with SandriasSaber, who gave me the idea in the first place. :)
Astrographical Location: Geonosian System, Arkanis Sector
Planet: Geonosis, Second Orbital Position
Position: Progate Temple, E'y-akh Desert
Planetary Season: Summer
Hour: 2100 (planetary rotation, 30 standard hours)
The reddish-gold stalactites and stalagmites of the Geonosian catacombs cast uneven shadows across the dimly lit interior of the first tunnel below the Progate Temple. Cody glanced cautiously through the tunnel entrance, which was located a full kilometer to the east of the temple itself. He knew there would be no way to get in through the original entrance of the temple floor, as the entire structure had collapsed during escape only the day before. This tunnel might take longer to traverse, but it would still be easier than getting in through the temple entrance – presuming it was even still accessible.
Cody had not enjoyed the weaponless climb up the long shaft, with the dead Geonosian warriors following, jumping and clinging to his ankles. There had been no time to stop, or to breathe. By the time he reached the top, his heart had been beating so hard that his pulse pushed against the backs of his eyes, making his vision jolt.
When he'd rushed out of the temple after the others, his only thought was one of relief that most of his men had escaped. Undead warriors had not been part of his training. As it turns out, he'd thought sarcastically, killing the enemy is simple – right up until the point when they're more or less unkillable. But at least it's over.
That had been a full day ago. But now, here he was again, heading back toward the collapsed Progate Temple with only two teammates: a commando who was practically a rookie, and a Jedi Knight who had a reputation for being crazy.
Cody cast a sidelong glance at his companions. Hunter had been transferred temporarily to the 212th while the rest of the Bad Batch were sent to assist other battalions on special assignment. Wrecker had gone to assist General Mundi's men – particularly Commander Jet – with destroying the remaining turret emplacements. Of course, Wrecker, being Wrecker, was very happy about that.
Tech had joined up with Commander Gree, who was assisting General Unduli in tracking down the remaining Geonosian war leaders. Cody smirked. The two clones, who probably knew more weird facts about the galaxy's unheard-of fauna and flora than anyone else in the GAR, would get along just fine.
Crosshair, meanwhile, had been sent to help General Secura's commander with eliminating several high-priority but well-guarded targets: war leaders who refused to surrender, instead working to gather more and more of their fellow Geonosians into their armies.
Crosshair would be able to help the 327th Star Corps out with that; privately, Cody half-sincerely wished Bly luck with the sniper and his permanent attitude. Of course, Bly was so laid back in some ways that it might not matter. Bly just would not take things personally, no matter what was said.
Humph, good luck with getting that one annoyed, Cross, he thought. I want pictures if you can make it happen.
On his right, Hunter noticed his gaze and tilted his head questioningly. Cody shook his head and nudged him forward with an elbow, indicating there was nothing he wanted to say.
This would be the sergeant's first mission without his team. He'd ended up being assigned to the 212th for no clear reason, with nothing to occupy him but a couple of days' worth of cleaning up after the massive battles that had taken place across Point Rain.
But when Quinlan Vos, who had been assisting General Tiin across the planet earlier in the invasion, was assigned to investigate the Geonosian queen's death – or lack thereof – he'd promptly picked Cody to come with him. "You've been there, you know the place," he said, cheerfully enough.
At the time, Cody raised an eyebrow, silently questioned the wisdom of going back there at all, then nodded and commed Hunter. The kid was willing and able to work on cleanup, but his abilities were being wasted on fixing tanks and picking up discarded weaponry . . . and a scout with Hunter's enhancements might very well prove invaluable on this mission.
On Cody's left side, Vos walked briskly along. He looked even weirder than usual, since he was wearing a pale tan tunic and pants instead of his customary black, and had donned goggles to protect his eyes from the constantly blowing sand. General Unduli looked normal in goggles, but for whatever reason, Quinlan – to put it mildly – did not. Especially since the goggles cut the gold-yellow tattoo across his nose neatly in half and pinned back his normally wild dreadlocks, flattening some of them against his head and letting the others fly out in all directions.
Not that the Jedi seemed to care about that, or about the potentially deadly mission they were undertaking. True, he'd groaned when the transmission from General Fisto came through. He'd rolled his eyes when the Nautolan said that the brain worms were still being controlled, and that perhaps Queen Karina the Great had not actually been crushed beneath the massive fall of rocks. But his protests at the idea of creeping through the underground catacombs had been conveyed through expressions, not words. Cody knew that General Fisto had seen every single one of them. He could not possibly have missed the way Quinlan slouched and dragged a hand through his hair until it hid his face from view, but the Nautolan completely ignored his (mostly silent) protests.
Then, Kit Fisto had ended the conversation, or lack thereof. Instead of asking questions about the Progate Temple, Quinlan straightened and proceeded to 'agonize' over which desert attire he should wear to keep the sand off of him.
Overall, though, the Jedi hadn't complained much – aloud, at any rate – about the mission objective once Kit Fisto was off the comms.
In fact, he'd outright grinned when he and Cody and Hunter mounted their speeders, heading off at the dangerous speed of one hundred kilometers per hour. The grin had vanished at the first gust of sand-filled wind, but the look of wild and potentially dangerous glee did not.
Because of this, and because he had not worked directly with this particular Jedi before, Cody decided to keep an eye on him. Not that that did much good. Within ten seconds, Quinlan swerved, more or less cutting across Hunter's path before revving ahead a few meters.
Had he not been flying, Cody would've rolled his eyes. Quinlan, please. Don't encourage him.
Alas, his inward pleas were all for naught. Hunter – thinking the General was trying to give them a signal to hurry up – twisted the speed bar forward a notch.
Quinlan swerved toward Hunter and then away, sped up again, and glanced back with a challenging tilt to his head.
This time, Hunter caught on. He stared for an instant, then leaned forward and lowered his chin, keeping his gaze straight ahead as he rotated the speeder's handles all the way forward.
Cody sighed.
As Hunter shot away into the reddish dust, Quinlan ducked to the handlebars and followed him.
The empty landscape stretched away in front of Cody, wind streaking by on all sides. It was getting on towards dusk, and visibility was not particularly good. Hitting a hundred and fifty kph was not wise. . . But it also wasn't wise to let his teammates get too far ahead of him. They were still in enemy territory, after all.
Accordingly, Cody leaned forward, twisted the handles hard, and fought the pull from the wind. Five seconds later, he realized he was smirking and promptly straightened his expression into something more neutral.
As Cody glanced to his left, his helmet's spot light stabbing the dark narrow opening one of his men had vanished through, he noticed that the smell of damp sand was as strong as ever, even though they'd been in here for nearly an hour.
His breathing was tight; he knew it wasn't loud, but the echoes in his helmet made him wonder if the others could hear it – if not Quinlan, then Hunter, at least. Heck, with how sensitive the kid's ears were, he could probably hear everything going wrong with Cody right now . . . maybe, in the short time they'd been down here, he'd learned how to hear minds too. It wouldn't be the strangest thing that had happened.
And if Hunter could hear thoughts now, could he also hear the screams still echoing inside the commander's head? The screams of the men – Cody's men – who had died down here?
Cody had been completely focused during the mission yesterday. He didn't remember consciously registering most of the sounds, or the sights, that returned to him now in a way that was almost stronger than reality. Coil's scream as he was dragged up the narrow shaft, disappearing just before he could be reachede. The silent form of Twister, lying crumpled in the sand. Undead Geonosians, staggering drunkenly as the parasitic worms forced their decaying muscles to move. Strange, guttural clicking. The voice of the Geonosian queen, shrieking hate at the Jedi as she was crushed by the boulders from above.
But it was quiet now.
Quinlan and Hunter were looking about with interest, and a little trepidation. Cody stared at them for a moment. The racing pulse, shaking hands, unsteady breathing . . . surely he wasn't the only one who had all that?
Of course, he had been the only down here before. Get a grip, trooper. Finish this so you can get the rest of the troops off this bug-infested planet.
"I don't get it," the Jedi announced, out of nowhere. "If those brain worms are controlled by the queen – well, they've got to have something else controlling them when there isn't a queen, right?"
Cody shrugged. "I don't know, sir. Maybe they don't need the queen to keep on killing."
"Yeah . . ." Hunter glanced through another opening in the wall, this one at shoulder-height. "Could be they're only organized when there's a queen, though."
"All the better for us, then." Quinlan studied Cody for a moment. "Commander, do you remember the way to the, uh, throne room, or whatever you want to call it? Since I presume the queen didn't actually have a throne?"
Cody nodded, filtering out the irrelevant remarks. "Yes, sir."
"Okay, then, lead the way."
"Yes, sir." Cody slipped past him.
"And lose the honorific," Vos complained. "It's weird."
Cody smirked behind the safety of his helmet. "It's protocol. Sir."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. . ." Quinlan grumbled, with a blatant disregard for the rules.
Cody did not inform him that, in his own thoughts, he most often referred to the Jedi as 'Quinlan', not 'General Vos'. It was a little hard to assign a high rank to someone who acted like a shiny. Or worse, a cadet.
"Commander Cody?" the sergeant called.
Glancing up, the commander saw Hunter, already several paces ahead, peering at a particularly large pile of crumbled stone that blocked part of the tunnel. His head was cocked as he shrugged, tapping one of the smaller rocks. "Is this what we're looking for, sir? Might be a ways out from the central room, but whatever's down that way –" he jerked his head in the direction of the throne room – "certainly smells dead."
Cody nodded, unable to hold back another smirk. "Good. But I recall thinking the same thing when she was alive. Any chance you can find out for sure?"
Was it possible that, during his time as a commander, Cody had learned how to read unseen expressions? Or was it merely his imagination that Hunter seemed to wince in disgust?
Quinlan leaned forward and patted the sergeant on the shoulder. "I like having this guy along," he whispered loudly, grinning at Hunter's annoyed helmet-tilt. "He gets to do the fun stuff."
"Hm." Cody eyed him neutrally. "I seem to remember hearing that you are psychometric, sir?"
The Jedi frowned, then wilted and gestured vaguely. ". . . Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . I'll see what I can find out . . ."
He clambered up onto the pile of loose rock and shale, mumbling to himself as he touched his fingertips here and there against the wall.
Behind him, Hunter slowly took off his helmet, expression souring the moment his nose came into direct contact with the air. "Yeah, it's dead," he said quickly, and jammed the helmet back on.
Cody nodded, studying his scanner. There were lifeforms around, at the periphery of his range, but nothing where the queen would be. And the piles of rock had not been disturbed since the collapse of the cave walls. No . . . Either the queen was still living – but not breathing – beneath multiple tons of stone and crumbling sand, or she was dead. . . which meant that the brain worms were being guided by something else. Their own instincts, most likely.
"Anything moving close by?" he asked.
Hunter shook his head again, one palm already pressed against the floor.
Had the sergeant been right? Was the queen the only one who could truly guide the undead? Were the brain worms, and the bodies they lived in, only organized when she was alive? Because if so, they were pretty much all set. If not – well, that was asking for a new host of problems. Ones that Cody wasn't ready to deal with.
"Alright, gents." He cleared his throat against the dust. "Have we determined that this mission is complete?"
"Yes, sir," Hunter said.
"I dunno, have we?" Quinlan, still balancing precariously on the loose rock, dug something out of the pile and sat back on his heels, holding a trooper's helmet.
"Coil," he said, then dropped it and rubbed his fingers uneasily together. "He's, um. Under there. Must have been in the room above when this place came down."
The commander stared at the pile for a few moments. "Was he dead?" he asked, for some reason.
"I think so." Quinlan wiped his hand on his tunic. "They were dragging him up a shaft – that's all I saw."
Hunter was studying him uneasily, but Cody gave a terse nod. "Understood. General. You'd better get down here, that pile isn't too stable."
The Jedi obeyed without argument, and Cody was glad he didn't ask about Coil's body. They wouldn't be able to safely dig him out, anyway.
"Alright," he said again. "Let's get out of here."
"Yup," Quinlan answered, shuddering a little. "Let's – yeah. Not stay here. This place is a nightmare."
That it is, Cody thought, turning back. You have no idea.
Quinlan glanced over his shoulder to check his teammates' positions, then faced forward. He disliked catacombs. Actually, he disliked dark, creepy, twisty places in general, but catacombs and labyrinths wound and twisted a lot more than the average Coruscant alley, and there was less visibility, so he disliked them more. This Geonosian catacomb was among some of the worst, in his experience.
He kept one hand on his lightsaber as he walked, keeping his senses alert for any hint of danger, and stuck close to the others. The dark red sand and clay surrounded them on all sides, and there was a constant feel of creeping death in the thick air.
Quinlan sighed. It was just his luck that he was the only Jedi on-planet who didn't have an army to lead. And of course, Kit (or General Fisto, which just sounded weird) had remembered that, and realized or decided that the Jedi Shadow would be the perfect man for the job.
As if Ki-Adi Mundi or Obi-Wan wouldn't have been just as capable of creeping down a tunnel. . . though, to be fair, they were not psychometric. Maybe he was the right guy for the job, which was already over.
Yep, I finished it, he thought, a little glumly. Discovered: one dead Geonosian queen, and one dead clone's helmet.
And there were other clone's bodies buried beneath the rubble.
He glanced again at his companions, glad that Cody was safe, and had not become one of those bodies. Sure, he didn't know the commander all that well, but Cody was a good guy. In fact, according to Obi-Wan and Yoda, he was one of the best, as far as clone officers went. And as it turned out, it was reassuring to have him along.
Quinlan looked at the dusty corridor roof, not sure if he was glad about that fact, or not. The kind of missions he went on meant that having other people with him was usually a bit of a hindrance. And if he was glad to have teammates – like right now – that usually meant the Force was warning him that he would need them. Or that they would need him. Which usually meant danger was just around the corner.
On one memorable occasion, that feeling of security in his teammates had actually meant that one of them was about to stab him in the back. Fortunately, the Falleen had failed in her attempt, despite her ability to project calm and security, because Quinlan tripped over a rock. Or the Force made him trip. Something. Well, at least he could be sure that he didn't have to worry about Cody or Hunter stabbing him in the back.
So . . . why was he glad they were here? Was it because the Force was trying to warn him that it would take more than one person to get out of here alive?
He shook his head once. It would be nice if the Force could occasionally be a tad more specific instead of just giving him a generic feeling of – danger –
Suddenly apprehensive, Quinlan stopped walking. Standing in the center of the tunnel, he turned slowly, studying the walls. No nearby entrances that he could see. . . nothing threatening in sight. . . and yet, that sense of encroaching danger persisted.
Drumming his fingers against his saber hilt, he spun to face Cody, meeting the commander's eyes through the visor of his helmet.
Cody had also stopped walking. His blaster was raised as he looked up at the ceiling, then down the tunnel that led back to the outside world.
"So." Quinlan cleared his throat. "Not just me, then?"
Cody looked at him and then back at the tunnel, while Hunter hovered between them.
Nothing happened, though, and then the feeling of danger faded. At almost the same moment, Hunter relaxed – and then Cody lowered his rifle.
Quinlan raised an eyebrow when he realized that the commander seemed to be taking his cues from the sergeant. Huh.
"Patrol?" he whispered.
"I think so." Cody reached up to his visor, hesitated, then dimmed his helmet lights until they matched the faint illumination given off by the strange, bluish glow worms that lived just beneath the surface of the walls. He switched to infrared, swept his gaze over the tunnel again, and then turned the lights back to full. "Nothing in range, not even with thermal scanners. Might as well keep moving. Hunter, take the lead. Let me know if you hear anything suspicious."
The sergeant nodded, and Quinlan fell in behind him. Nothing more was said for several minutes, but given how Hunter's shoulders kept tensing, Quinlan thought he was worried about something. Probably the fact that they were in a creepy Geonosian tunnel, where multiple clones had lost their lives.
What was it exactly that Cody had told him about Hunter? Something about enhanced senses, which probably meant that, in theory, the sergeant had the best hearing among the three of them.
As usual, Quinlan's mind instantly flitted off on another tangent. Despite the tense feeling of silent danger, he caught himself wondering if the guy could hear something that was said at a whisper from several feet away.
It was completely unrelated to the situation, but it seemed like a fun idea to test, if only to get both of their minds, and maybe even Cody's, off the creepy tunnel and the thousands of kilos of rock above their heads.
"Hey, Hunter," Quinlan whispered, just barely out loud.
The sergeant's hand only twitched.
"Hunter?" he repeated in the same volume.
This time, the clone's shoulders relaxed and his helmet cocked, visor flashing over to him. His palms came up in a 'what?' gesture, and the Jedi Shadow grinned.
Kriff, he's good! Wonder if he could hear that from farther . . .
He slowed his pace and whispered again, "Hunterrr?"
"Yes, General?" The sergeant's voice was filled with confusion. "I can hear you just fine, sir."
"Oh, good, just checking." Still keeping a sharp look on his surroundings, Quinlan hung even farther back. When he was ten meters away from the commando, he whispered as softly as he could. "Hunter? It's coooooming for youuuu."
Hunter paused midstep, looked confusedly at Cody, and then continued walking.
Cody shot Quinlan a sideways glance. Luckily, the commander had his helmet on. Also, after multiple instances of being given the eyebrow of death by Mace Windu, Yoda, other Jedi, and his own padawan, Quinlan was immune. He refused to be deterred.
"Hunter . . ." He lowered his voice to a vague, hoarse whisper.
The sergeant stopped, tilting his helmet over his shoulder. Quinlan couldn't exactly see the eyeroll, but he could feel enough of the annoyance through the Force to know that that was exactly what he had done.
"It's coming," the Jedi added conversationally, then dropped his tone back to the croaking whisper. "It's coming for your sooouuuul. . ."
As Hunter stopped walking again, Quinlan took a step forward to keep out of Cody's range, just in case. Yoda's tendency to whack unsuspecting bystanders across the shins with his gimer stick had taught Quinlan caution, and while he didn't think Cody was in the habit of slapping superiors upside the head, he wasn't in the mood to test it.
"General," Cody said dryly. "All due respect, but we're in enemy territory."
"Uh. Yeah. Roger that." Quinlan saluted lazily, then picked up the pace. "Just thought I'd check and make sure he wasn't falling asleep."
Hunter visibly hesitated before apparently deciding to ignore him. As for Cody, well, the commander did not let out an audible sigh, but his shoulders lifted and then slumped just a little.
Quinlan grinned to himself. Mission accomplished.
As the small team drew closer to the exit, Hunter started to relax a little. Nothing had happened, and soon they'd be headed back to base. This mission wasn't so bad after all. Maybe it would turn out to be just a quick in and out and he'd just been overreacting like Cross always claimed he did.
And then, through the wall to his left, he heard a faint footstep. He paused, evaluating every bit of information his senses were feeding him. A light-weight creature. No more than a meter in height. Slow-moving. Uncertain.
"Something through there, sir," he said. "Seems to be passing by."
Cody nodded his understanding and gestured to an upcoming crossroad on their right – the last tunnel they would have to enter before reaching the exit.
Quinlan had just reached the doorway when he paused, looking sharply from one side to the other. At the same time, Hunter heard the sound again, closer. This time, he went rigid. Cocking his head, he shifted his rifle to one hand and activated his private comm. "Commander?" he hissed. "You hear that, sir?"
Cody didn't look away from the tunnel. "Hear what?"
Guess not. . . "That scraping noise," Hunter said. "Just off to our four o'clock."
Out of the corner of his visor, he watched the commander scanning the tunnel silently, his gait still easy. Quinlan, on the other hand, seemed to have realized that something was up. He was standing between the two tunnels, one hand reaching slightly towards the exit tunnel, the other holding his lightsaber.
Something else shifted with a crawling hiss. Then, dry clumps of sandy clay sprinkled down around them, and Cody looked up. "Tunneling," he said sharply.
". . . Yeah." Quinlan took a backwards step towards the exit. "Come on, Hunter, I think we've overstayed our nonexistent welcome."
Hunter hesitated, then followed. He'd only made it a few steps when Quinlan froze, holding out a hand to stop the others.
"Ambush?" Cody asked softly.
"They're waiting for us." Quinlan drew his lightsaber, but didn't turn it on. "Not too many. . . and we're so close. You guys up for a fast skirmish?"
Hunter drew his knife. "Do you even need to ask?"
"Wait," Cody ordered. "General, are they presences in the Force? Do they feel like sentients?"
"Not –" Quinlan hesitated, tilting his head to one side as though listening to something. "Not as far as I can tell. But they're hostile. Some sort of creature, maybe."
"That's what I was worried about." Cody was gripping his rifle now. "General, it's pretty hard to kill dead bodies. You have to kill the worms."
" . . Good to know." Despite his words, the joking tone was gone from Quinlan's voice. "I'll go first. Stay close"
He stepped into the final tunnel. Hunter and Cody followed right behind him, and then the three of them paused together.
Hunter clenched his knife, stunned by the scores of pinpricks of light that gleamed among the shadows cast by the helmet-lights. Eyes. Geonosian eyes. But something was wrong with the aliens. Their motions were jerky and stunted, and some of them bore clear signs of fatal injuries – shots through the chest, or the head. Behind the mass of shifting bodies and chittering wings, the tunnel shaft was clearly visible.
"That's a lot of bugs," Quinlan observed blankly. "Let's hope they still know how to die." Then he lunged forward and attacked.
Even as Cody jerked up his rifle and fired, Hunter realized there was a bigger danger than the undead Geonosians ahead of them. The tunnel floor vibrated a little from the motion all around, but most of the vibrations came from above. He had only just looked up when the faint evening light filtering in from the outside world was cut off, and dozens of living Geonosians poured into the narrow chamber, chittering and clicking as they flew.
Their glowing pikestaffs whipped through the air as they attacked, but Hunter suddenly found himself steadier. These Geonosians could be killed. He fell into the rhythm of battle easily, stabbing and firing and slicing as he worked his way toward the exit. There were too many, though. Every time he killed one, another was clutching at him, sometimes before the previous enemy had even fallen.
Within seconds, Hunter was being forced to retreat. Something grabbed his arm, and he flung the Geo to the ground and shot it. In the press of bodies to his right, a pikestaff flashed, and Cody stumbled.
Hunter wrenched free of another alien, firing rapidly to keep the swarming aliens off of Cody as the commander recovered and fought his way toward the Jedi.
Then Quinlan twisted beneath a Geonosian's pikestaff blow and yelled for Cody to retreat. "We'll have to take the secondary route!"
Cody ducked and turned, firing his rifle one-handed as he slammed an elbow into an approaching warrior's stomach. "How will we know we're heading the right way?" he shouted. "We don't want to get trapped down here!"
"We may as well already be with that bunch in front of us!" Quinlan shoved one hand forward. The warriors all around him went sprawling, and he leaped forward in a low somersault that brought him back to the others. Grabbing Hunter by the shoulder, he spun him around. "There are more waiting at the top!"
Hunter shot a final glance at the last bend in the tunnel they could have taken to get out. But we're so close!
As if reading his mind, Quinlan shook his head. "We can't risk it!" he said, breathing quickly. "I dunno where they came from, but there are dozens of warriors up ahead. We've got to get through to the other exit. Come on!"
The stunned Geonosians were recovering. Both the living and the dead aliens clicked and buzzed, grouping together as they surged forward. Dry wings rustled together like dead leaves in a winter wind. Pebbles and dust rattled as claws scraped the dirt floor.
The blurring mix of sound and motion was hard to separate. Hunter's senses jerked from point to point until he couldn't pick individual enemies out of the pressing mass. Was there any chance of fighting to the exit? Then Cody shouted for him to follow, and he understood from the commander's tone that they had run out of options.
Heart pounding as he swallowed past a dry lump in his throat, Hunter did the only thing he could: he ran.
