Chapter Three: The Cost of War

The separatists were in disarray after their defeat at the village. This left Mira, Cress, and Corso with an uneventful trip to Fort Garnik.

"How did this get started, anyway?" Mira asked.

"I just got here myself," Cress replied.

"The Treaty of Coruscant," Corso interjected. The other two looked over at him, surprised he had spoken up. "I was born here," he said, a defensive note in his voice. "I don't like the seps, not even a little bit. But the Treaty rubbed a lot of folks the wrong way, particularly when the Empire abandoned its promises and the Senate just let them do it."

He wasn't wrong. Mira remembered the way the galaxy had changed overnight. Some politicians had signed a document, and immediately entire worlds with thriving Republic populations were suddenly a part of the newly reformed Sith Empire. Their people were given no choice in whether to stay or leave. Billions of lives, changed forever – and thousands of families with relatives on those worlds left to wonder at their loved ones' fates.

"It's all just a game to the politicians," Corso went on. "They don't care about us, or this planet. They just don't want to have to say they lost it."

When they reached the Fort, Mira extended a hand to bid Cress farewell. The sergeant hesitated when he reached out to shake.

"Would you like to grab a drink later?" he asked. "There's gotta be a canteen around here somewhere."

Mira smiled crookedly. "A little old for you, aren't I?"

Cress shrugged. "Maybe I like older women."

She laughed. "Work on your pickup lines, Sergeant. Anyway, you're not my type."

"Not big on the blue? Or is it the uniform?"

"Perfectly fine by both," she replied. "Let's just say I like a little more seasoning."

She left him near the Republic barracks, and went in search of Viidu. With any luck, she could be off this rock and on the Siren's trail by nightfall.

Cress asked directions to HAVOC Squad's location. The squad was operating out of a small bunker. When Cress entered, he saw several soldiers gathered around a holographic map of the area.

Captain Tavus saw him enter.

"Sergeant," he said with a nod. They exchanged a salute, then Tavus grinned at him. "Great to finally have some new blood in the unit. Let me introduce you to the group. My second-in-command, Captain Zora, is HAVOC's infiltration and assassination specialist."

Zora was a slender Marialan. Cress could not help but notice that she was extremely pretty, though the tribal markings across her cheeks and forehead lent a fierceness to her slim form.

"They call me Wraith, Sergeant." She flicked her eyes over his form. Neither eyes nor voice gave any indication as to her first impression of him.

Tavus indicated the youngest member of the group, a Zabrak male who was one side or another of twenty.

"This is Fuse," Tavus said. "Lieutenant Vanto Bazren. Don't let his baby face fool you – Fuse is an expert with every type of explosive in the known galaxy."

"Ah, yes," Fuse said, seeming nervous. "It's good to meet you, Sergeant, good to meet you!"

"Do you always say everything twice?" Cress asked.

Fuse laughed, a high-pitched and nervous sound. "No! No!"

"And this is Needles." The last man stepped forward. A wiry cyborg, a human with cybernetic implants attached to his face and body. "He's a medical genius, and an expert with stims and adrenals."

Needles bowed, giving a thin smile. "It is my honor to help you to perform at your very best," he declared.

Cress disliked him instantly. He tended to avoid adrenals as a rule, believed they should be banned outright. He had seen too many good men rendered into twitching shells of themselves from side effects and addictions. In addition, there was something about Needles that felt… off. Cress decided he would trust himself to the base's general medic.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," he said aloud.

Tavus turned back to the map, his grin vanishing. "Now, as to the mission. A Republic transport, carrying among its cargo a ZR-57 Orbital Strike Bomb, crashed in northern Avilatan. Recovery units sent a team, but they were too late. Separatist forces had already stolen the transport's cargo, including the ZR-57."

"Gearbox said it was serious hardware," Cress said. "Exactly what are this bomb's capabilities, sir?"

Fuse stepped forward. "The ZR-57 can pretty much vaporize the whole island," he said, his previous nervousness gone as he spoke about the explosive. "If we don't get it back before the separatists try to use it… Well, 'boom!' " He made a gesture with his hands to mimic an explosion.

"We're investigating several leads to the bomb's location," Tavus said. "I've already given the rest of the squad their assignments, and I'm taking one myself. As for you, sergeant…"

Tavus looked up as a Cathar lieutenant entered.

"Well, I'm going to leave Lieutenant Jorgan to fill you in on your task," he said.

The Cathar stepped forward. "Lieutenant Aric Jorgan, Operations, Ord Mantell Infantry Command," he said briskly, addressing the entire group. "It is my job to coordinate your activities from this mission room. I'll be overseeing your op through the cameras mounted on your armor. The cameras activate the instant you leave this room. What you see, I see."

Jorgan glared at Cress. "Let me make this clear, Poster Boy. When you're in the field, what I say goes."

"This is not my first posting," Cress replied.

Jorgan's glare only intensified. "I don't care how many Senators know your name. The other members of HAVOC have distinguished themselves a dozen times over. Right now, I look at you and I see a publicity stunt. Prove me wrong - Do your job and don't screw up. Period."

Cress straightened, a parade-ground attention. "And what would my job be, sir?" he barked.

Jorgan was not amused.

"A Republic spy named Bellis turned up dead, killed about an hour after the transport was hit. We've relocated his wife and belongings to the base, but his field box is not here. Get his wife to tell you the location of the field box, retrieve it, bring the Intel back here."

Jorgan's cat-like features amplified his sneer. "Think you can handle that, Poster Boy?" he asked.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Cress said. "Permission to get started, sir!"

"Belay the attitude," Jorgan snapped.

Cress stood in place, waiting. After a moment, Jorgan sighed his irritation.

"Dismissed!"

Bellis' wife and son had been relocated to bare soldiers' quarters. The boy was outside, playing with a couple of NCOs. He clearly had no clue what was happening, and was just enjoying the attention and the adventure of being on base.

The wife understood all too well, however, and she was bitter. Cress couldn't particularly blame her.

"He risked his life every day for you, and for what?" she snapped. " 'The thanks of a grateful Republic?' "

"I promise, you and your son will be cared for – "

"Behind the walls of a Fort? Or off-world? I won't be able to stay here. Even if you defeat the separatists, we'll forever be the family of a spy."

There was nothing Cress could say that could make her feel better. His best course was to just move on to the information.

"A lot of innocent lives are on the line," he told her. "We need your husband's field box."

"I keep telling you people, I don't have it!" she shouted. "The soldiers bundled us out so quickly, there wasn't time to collect anything!"

"But you know where it is," Cress said. "Just tell me, and I'll go to the village to collect it. Your husband gave his life to get that information. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain."

From her face, he knew he almost had her. And if he was going to their home anyway…

"Look, maybe I can collect a few personal items while I'm there, help you make these quarters feel more like home."

She sniffed, nodded. "There are some pictures," she said. "And maybe a few of Yorik's toys. He has a toy soldier set, I know he'd miss that."

Cress nodded. "I'll make sure to bring it."

"If it's still there," she complained. "If the separatists don't get it, the refugees will."

"It's only been a few hours," he said. "I doubt anything will have gone this quickly. Now, where did your husband keep his field box?"

She told him. A secret compartment in the floorboard beneath their bed frame. He thanked her, then headed out, back to the village where he had been fighting just over an hour earlier.

Jorgan talked to him as he walked.

"There's no easy way to handle those interactions," the lieutenant said. "You can say the right words, but they'll never make someone feel better."

"Not my first time doing that either, Lieutenant."

After the slave intercept, Cress had personally visited the families of each of the fallen men from his squadron. Some spouses, a few siblings. Mostly parents. Some had cried. Most had just stared blankly, as if struggling to absorb the news.

"I'm saying you did well, Sergeant!" Jorgan snapped. "Take the damn compliment."

He had no difficulty finding the dead agent's house. In the wake of the morning's battle, Republic troops were back in full control of the small village.

The troops were going house to house, searching for any sign of separatist sympathizers. Locals in possession of the wrong holovids or pamphlets were taken into custody. Most would be cleared and released within a few days; others, who had problematic contacts, might be in custody longer. Add in some looting, a sad inevitability, and local sympathies would be driven further toward the separatists – But what alternative was there?

Cress entered Bellis' cottage. It was small, just two bedrooms and a living room. He took a moment to quickly clear the bedrooms, finding no one in either of them. Then he went to the master bedroom, and found the field box hidden exactly as Mrs. Bellis had described.

The box secured, Cress turned his attention to keeping his promise. He located both print photographs and holos of the family, and carefully placed each of them inside his tote bag. He noticed an expensive dress in the closet. Likely a gift from her husband, which the man would have had to save up to afford. She might not be thinking about it now, but he knew that she would want it later. He folded it with care, added it to the bag.

When he went into the child's room to find the toys, he heard a noise. The closet, which he had neglected to look inside. A rookie mistake, which he knew Jorgan would have made note of. He drew his blaster, cursing himself for being an idiot.

He stepped to the side of the closet door, flung it open.

Two small children stared back at him. They were dirty and looked malnourished. One boy held a plastic spaceship in his hand. The other's hands were empty; he had dropped the ship he had been playing with – the source of the sound.

"Are you going to shoot us?" the older boy asked. He didn't sound scared. His voice, like his face, just reflected a weary resignation.

Cress holstered his blaster.

"I'm not here to shoot anybody," he told them. "Where are your parents?"

He realized the answer to that question even as the words left him. They were dead - from the look of the boys, weeks before the battle that had consumed the small village this morning.

"I'm taking you back with me," he announced.

"We don't wanna go to no refugee center," the boy said. "I seen the kids there. We're better off here."

Cress ignored the protest and insisted the boys come with him. They waited mutely while he gathered up the toy soldier set. But the second they left the house and were in open air, the children ran off, scattering in different directions.

Jorgan's voice sounded in his ear.

"You won't catch them, Sergeant. And we can't risk losing that field box. I understand what you're feeling, but you need to come back to base now."

He knew the lieutenant was right, but he still hesitated.

"You came for the field box, you got it," Jorgan said. "It was a successful mission."

But the only thing Cress felt as he started back for Fort Garnik was a sense of absolute defeat.