Anakin stood on the command deck of the Tenacity and listened as the reports rolled in over the comm lines.

"Weapons and shield systems functional. All tests are a success. All clear here aboard the Inevitable."

"This is the Gatekeeper, all systems functional!"

"Luminance, signing in, all systems go!"

Triumph and relief rang clear in many of the voices, beneath the rote phrases they were calling in from all across the system and beyond.

"Congratulations, men," Anakin said to Diode Squad, who were standing as motionless and silent as ever a few feet away. "Looks like you just saved the entire navy."

"Yes, sir," they said together.

"Thank you, sir," said one.

Anakin tried not to make a face at how he couldn't detect even a small note of excitement in their voices. He thought of Rex, still recovering from the reconstructive surgery on his shoulder—at least he should be glad to hear that the botched mission had been saved at last.

And there were cheers from around the command deck, from those seated at ops, members of the crew who had flown into and out of battles never knowing if this was the moment their shields were going to fail as soon as they fired a shot.

As the noise died down, Anakin realized Appo was calling him over the comm link.

"General, Admiral Tarkin just docked and requested to speak with you. He's waiting in briefing room C-Two."

"I'll be right there."

As he sped through the corridors with long strides, he wondered what was so important that the admiral had come to his ship in person. Anakin had been in consistent contact with Anaxsi leadership about the virus situation. Hopefully this was merely a passing on of his next assignment.

When he arrived at the briefing room, Tarkin was standing with typical ramrod straightness, hands behind his back.

"Admiral," Anakin greeted him cheerfully, before locking the door. "What can I do for you?"

Tarkin narrowed his eyes and inclined his head as if Anakin had insulted him. "General Skywalker, are you aware of the alarming actions the Anaxsi have recently taken against the Mrlssi?"

"Uh, you mean shut down their bioweapon research facility? The one which also happens to be the source of the virus?" Anakin raised an eyebrow. "What's so alarming about that? The fleets are finally ready to move out again!"

"I see," Tarkin said coldly. "So… you did not see fit to inquire how they planned to neutralize this facility?"

"I respect their right to handle affairs on their own planet." Anakin folded his arms, unsettled by the accusing tone in Tarkin's voice. "In accordance with the laws of the Republic, of course."

"The Mrlssi government will not agree that this… affair was handled justly, I think. The scientists were most certainly killed inside the facility when it imploded today, and were given no warning." Tarkin's voice began to rise, getting more agitated. "Regardless of the threat their research posed to us, how do you think this incident will reflect upon the image of the Republic to other worlds who may be wavering in their support? The Mrlssi are very influential among the Galactic scientific community and may not be so eager to remain loyal after word of this reaches them!"

"That would be unfortunate," Anakin said slowly, giving Tarkin a questioning stare. "Is there a reason you're talking to me about this and not the Anaxsi military?"

"I'm astonished you even have to ask," Tarkin seethed. "Was it not your captain who disobeyed orders and incited the Mrlssi to defensive action in the first place? His orders were to remain undetected, correct?"

"Yes…."

"And if it had not been for his overwhelming incompetence, the Anaxsi government would not have been forced to take such drastic action! They could have been arrested and brought to trial; the facility could have been locked down by a more qualified special operations team rather than crushed into oblivion! But instead, the Republic is now complicit in an interplanetary incident which may cost us the technical and military support of multiple systems!"

"I understand your concern, Admiral." Anakin was careful to keep his voice even, trying hard to level out the rising indignation that made him want to yell. "Captain Rex will be reassigned as soon as he is fit for duty."

"He will be reconditioned," Tarkin corrected. "There is obviously a flaw in his training, and as he was the weak link in this team, he will no doubt be the same in any team he works—"

"What? Hold on! Rex has an outstanding record of service up to this point! He doesn't need to be reconditioned! So he made a mistake. A big one. But even the Anaxsi officers in charge of the mission agreed that we have to consider the circumstances!"

"Sentiment like this does not suit you, Skywalker." Tarkin gave him a dissatisfied frown. "The circumstances are that your former captain was trusted with the lives of countless members of the Republic navy, as well as the lives of the Mrlssi and the men on his own team. He has proven himself undeserving of your confidence. I have already submitted my report to high command and received authorization to order his return to Kamino as soon as possible. I suggest you give some thought to his replacement. Lieutenant Appo seems to have served you well."

Anakin gritted his teeth, frustrated at how hard this was hitting him. He knew Rex's prognosis, and yet somehow he had hoped there might still be a way to prevent his reassignment. "It'll be a while. He's still recovering from his injuries."

"Oh, I assure you," Tarkin smiled coldly, "The facilities on Kamino will be able to take care of him much better than what you have here."

Anakin lowered his head defensively. "Admiral, you worked with Rex on the Citadel mission. You saw how competent he is. But you support this decision? We need captains like him now more than ever! Rex has never let me down before. He's my responsibility; I should have a say in what happens to him."

Tarkin almost looked amused. "You and the other Jedi may be part of this army, General, but the clones under your command belong to the Republic, not to you. You cannot claim any rights of ownership. They are servants of the Republic and as such will be distributed in whatever way is most useful to the war effort. I thought you were anxious for this war to end quickly!"

"I am." Anakin stared stubbornly back into Tarkin's pitiless eyes. "But I think that command is making a mistake in this case."

"Your concerns are noted. I will notify Tipoca City to expect your former captain within the next week. In the meantime, you and the Five-Hundred-First are to prepare to assist in the assault on Clak'dor Seven."

Anakin kept his mouth shut as he accepted the orders from Tarkin. He had admired the admiral's practical views on the war when they'd first met, but after Ahsoka's trial, and now this, his patience with the admiral's tactless and uncompromising approach was fraying into true dislike.

He hated to think what Rex would say when he heard the news. But better to tell him as soon as possible. Outwardly, he reviewed the mission information calmly, his mind going through the motions of planning out each move. But deep down, beneath it all, he began bracing himself to lose another friend.

…

After coming out of surgery and the post-surgery bacta soak, Rex had not felt optimistic about his arm. He was sleepy and disoriented from the anesthesia. It hurt too much to move his arm much at all those first few days, although his droid nurse periodically helped him through some very gentle exercises which were, in Rex's opinion, barely fit to be called exercises. More like a thrice-daily ritual of "try moving it a little further this time." It promised these movements would get more complex as he progressed to the later stages of his recovery plan.

Then the sleepiness had worn off. His lungs had continued to heal as he slept, and he found it a little easier now to walk long distances in the halls. And a few days later, out from under the nurse's watchful photoreceptors, Rex held a DC-17 in his shaking left hand—arm excruciatingly extended to its full length—braced it with his right, and shot the target taped on the opposite wall of Echo's room.

"That's a hit," Echo said.

"Only at short range," Rex muttered. "And all this one did was squeeze the trigger." He looked at his visibly shaking left arm and slowly coiled it back toward his chest where it seemed to think it belonged.

"You're only a few days post-op," said Echo. "I shouldn't have even let you do this."

"No… I need to know how far I still have to go," Rex sighed. "A long way, I think."

Echo was silent, and Rex wondered if he was feeling guilty again.

"I'm sure I'll heal quickly enough," he added quietly. Not as quickly as he wanted to, never. But enough to survive.

"I'll be leaving for Kamino soon," Echo said, taking the DC-17 from him. "Now that the virus is taken care of."

"I know…." Rex looked down at the communicator Echo had modified for him. "I'll let you know where—"

His communicator was beeping.

"Rex? Where are you?" It was General Skywalker.

"Zero level, sir."

"Come back to the medical bay. I have some news," he said wearily.

"Right away, sir." Rex closed the channel, trying not to speculate on what news this might be, and looked up at Echo, who seemed concerned. "I'll see you again before you leave."

Echo just nodded.

Rex walked out, passing identical faces without recognizing any of them. When he opened the door to the medical bay, General Skywalker had a stony look to his face that instantly made Rex's heart drop into his stomach.

"Did something go wrong with the anti-virus, sir?"

"No… not exactly."

His eyes were on Rex's chest and shoulder, as if still expecting to see evidence of his wounds seeping up from under his service uniform. He sighed quietly. "I've been contacted by high command. A decision… has been reached."

"Is it… about my reassignment, sir?" Rex had been expecting as much, but it still stung to think about.

Skywalker's eyebrows pulled together and he still wouldn't meet Rex's eyes. "I've been ordered to send you back to Kamino for reconditioning. I'm sorry, Rex."

"Oh… I understand, sir," Rex heard himself say, numbly wondering why he was lying, and how the general expected him to believe such a ridiculous thing. Reconditioning was for defective clones. Clones who needed to be retrained from scratch, with new memories and a new identity. Clones who weren't right in the head, or who just weren't up to the stress of the battlefield. His hands felt cold.

"I tried to talk them out of it," Skywalker said, some dismay creeping into his voice. "But they wouldn't back down. Apparently, the fact that the Anaxsi military completely destroyed that research facility along with the Mrlssi inside, well… that might lose us some important allies. It's going to cause problems… big problems. It was one mistake too many. You've been declared unfit for duty, even once your injuries heal."

Rex couldn't think straight. He hadn't considered that his bad performance on Anaxes was still being analyzed, mulled over by the powers that be. Admiral Bet had understood. Konneck had wished him well. Rex wanted to ask how this was possible, but the moment the thought crossed his mind, he knew that to voice it out loud would only dig a deeper hole for him to fall into. And it was certainly no use to bring up the terrifying possibility that someone knew what he knew, and was doing this to silence him.

"I didn't want this," Skywalker hissed, gripping Rex's uninjured shoulder suddenly. "You know that. I don't want another captain, Rex. I want you back, the way you used to be. But now it's too late for that… and it's my fault. I should never have let you go on that mission!"

He didn't want to go through a conversation like this again. "When do I leave, sir?" he asked quietly.

Skywalker slowly let go of him, his hand dropping to his side in defeat. "Two days."

"Understood." His own voice was monotonous to his ears. "It's been an honor serving with you, General. I'm sorry I let you down."

Skywalker's face pinched, conflicted, unable to deny Rex's admission. "I… I'm sure you'll serve the Republic well in whatever assignment they give you once you've returned to service."

"Thank you, sir."

Skywalker stared at him a moment, then nodded once, as if there was nothing left to say. Rex stood still and watched the door close behind Skywalker, heart beating hard. He sat down heavily on the bed and felt a defeated exhaustion sweep over him, pinning him down inside his restless body. Echo's worries sank into his blood like ice—the fear of losing his ability to care. Rex realized he now faced a similar fate in being reconditioned. And if both of them no longer had any sense of who they were, then there really was no hope to stop the conspiracy.

…

An hour or so later, Rex walked slowly down the hall on zero deck, trying to take stock of what options he had left. The droid nurse had seemed to notice his sudden increase in distress, and encouraged him to go socialize with other clones, but Rex couldn't see any point in talking to anyone other than Echo and his commandos. He saw now what a miracle it was that Fives had even managed to tell them his story. If he hadn't been killed by Fox, would anything have changed? Rex didn't know what to do next. Being reconditioned meant he wouldn't have the memory or will to investigate any further. He still felt blown away—Admiral Bet had been understanding! High command insisting on this meant that they knew everything, and if they knew, it was all over.

Rex took a deep breath and reminded himself what was at stake, but doubt rose around him like floodwaters no matter how impossible it was to change course. He or Echo needed to tell someone else, but who would believe them? I'm not crazy! Fives' words echoed in his mind again.

He opened the door to Echo's room and saw that Diode Squad was there, all of them out of armor and two of them sleeping. The others seemed to have been talking with Echo.

"Rex." Echo stood, and the two commandos faced him as well. "What did General Skywalker want?"

"Well," he said heavily, "turns out, we might be taking the same transport to Kamino."

"You're going to Kamino…." Echo didn't sound surprised. "Why?"

"I'm being reconditioned."

Echo slumped a little where he stood and sighed. "I knew this was going to happen…."

"They know I know too much," Rex muttered. "And there's a chance they might suspect you too, so you're going to have to keep a low profile. You can't give them any sign that I told you anything. You shouldn't even try to contact me again afterward since… I won't remember."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," Echo said. "You'll be dead."

"Dead?" Rex stared back at Echo incredulously, the sick heat creeping into his gut despite his conscious disbelief. "What are you talking about? If they were going to execute me, they would have said so."

Echo shook his head. "No, Rex…. There's no such thing as reconditioning."

"How do you know?" Rex said.

"I had access to the Tipoca City cloning facility's computer network," Echo said, his voice heavy with weariness. "All that data on every single clone in the city. I noticed that when a group of them were marked as reconditioned, there was no record afterward of an increase in clones being trained, or even in the number of beds being occupied. Instead, the incinerators ran that day for much longer than routine. They killed them." Echo sighed, then looked at Rex, resignation lining his face. "It was the same pattern every time another batch was brought in for reconditioning. I watched for it to make sure it was consistent. They see any clone sent back as too inherently defective to be retrained."

Rex stood there rigidly, fingers icy. He pulled his eyes away from Echo's tired face, across the ambiguous expressions of the commandos, crushed by the realization of his own worthlessness in the eyes of those who would throw him and his brothers away like so much organic trash.

"I don't think General Skywalker would purposefully deceive you about this," Echo said. "He probably doesn't know. I don't think anyone is meant to know."

"Even if he doesn't," Rex said numbly to the wall, "he's not going to fight against direct orders from high command, knowing what I think about the chancellor. And the chancellor would find another way to get rid of me anyway." He gave Echo a grim look, without much hope, knowing his duty. "Echo… once I'm gone, you'll be the only one who can do something about this. You and your squad."

"Yes, but…." Echo shook his head. "Even if I find the evidence and information we need, who can I go to with it? I can't leave Kamino without orders."

Rex hesitated, trying to think around the sensation of his own heart beating hard but steadily in his chest. He rubbed his thumbs over his clammy fingers. He'd been in a lot of battles that seemed hopeless, but never with odds quite like this. Even their allies couldn't be trusted with the truth, and the structure of the galaxy itself seemed designed to ensure their failure.

"I don't know," he finally murmured. "You'll have to be absolutely certain it's someone you can trust. You're the Republic's last hope. You can't get caught, or the Republic is finished… and if they do catch you and the squad, you have to find someone else you trust, to pass on what you know."

"I don't know anyone else that I trust," Echo said hopelessly.

"What about you?" Rex turned to the commandos, knowing it was futile. "Who would you trust with this?"

"We were ordered to tell no one," said one, glancing at Echo.

"Well if Echo forgets this, and I'm dead, you're going to have to find a scientist who's interested in doing what the Mrlssi scientists suggested. Maybe you'll find someone on another mission… it will have to be a calculated risk."

"I don't think they can do that," Echo sat down on his bed heavily. "This is… I can't believe they're putting the blame on you. You're not the one who compromised the mission! I was!"

"That's not what this is about…." Rex grimaced. "But this does give me some hope that they don't suspect you."

Echo was silent and seemed to be thinking.

"You will keep this secret, then," Rex said to the commandos.

"Yes, sir," they both replied.

"Both you and Echo have impressed on us the importance and sensitivity of this information, Captain," said one Rex suspected might be Twenty-Two. "We will do what we can to safeguard it, sir."

"Good," Rex said, though the word felt completely meaningless. He turned back to Echo, mind anxiously casting about for an opening. "Maybe there's someone else in the Five-Hundred-First I can give this comm to…." He looked down at his cuff. "I'll have to think about it. I'll let you know what I decide."

"Keep it for now," Echo said, eyes narrowed at the floor. "There's still at least one day left."

"I don't think that's going to make much of a difference, Echo," Rex sighed. "But maybe you're right… it's an important decision. I'll take some time to really think it over."

Echo just sighed. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess…."

"Things happened the way they happened," Rex protested, but his tone sounded hollow in his own ears. "Being killed in the line of duty has always been a possibility. It's just that this time the enemy is someone we all trusted."

Echo stared at him, face set in cold anger. "They're trying to do to you what they did to Fives," he whispered. "Have you die in disgrace."

"It doesn't matter to me what everyone thinks I was," Rex said, although it wasn't exactly true. Skywalker's angry disappointment still rang in his head. But it was his own inability to accept Fives' insanity that had led him to the truth, he reminded himself. "I know what I'm dying for. I just hope it makes a difference."

"I'll find a way," said Echo, and the determination in his quiet, hoarse voice filled Rex with gratitude and painful resignation.

"I know."

…

Rex leaned over and checked the chrono on his comm. It was almost oh-four-hundred. He lay back down on the lower bunk in the quarters he'd been moved to, staring around the darkened squad room, cycling through the same questions over and over that wore him down like sandpaper. How could he stop this madness with only one day left to live?

He hadn't told any of his men about the decision to recondition him. What was there to say? His mind threatened to spiral down into regrets; he should have seen further ahead, he should have believed Fives sooner, should have been more careful on the Anaxes mission and not drawn attention to himself. Should have kept the general's confidence and built on it. And then the memory, the sight and sound of Skywalker's cold dissatisfaction was enough to make him feel sick with failure. As much as he'd tried to reassure Echo that neither of them were to blame, the truth was that he could have handled the situation better. Looking back, the effects of his own near-panic were disgustingly obvious to him.

Rex couldn't stand this any longer. Staying awake agonizing over this was not helping him formulate a plan—he needed to wake up fresh and start over. He left his room and headed down the quiet empty halls of the destroyer until he reached the quarters he knew the few members of the 501st on board were staying. The door opened quietly and he knelt next to Kix.

"Kix."

Kix jumped and his eyes flew open, even though Rex had only whispered his name.

"Captain?" he gasped, blinking as he sat up. "Is there an emergency?"

Rex motioned for him to lower his voice. "No. I was wondering if you could give me something. I can't get to sleep."

"Oh." Kix ran a hand over his own face. "Right… let's go to the supply room."

Rex followed him back down the hall and into a lift. Rex glanced at Kix and Kix looked back at him, smiling slightly, but with nothing but concern in his eyes. It didn't take them long to reach the field medical supply room. Kix input the security code and led him inside.

"Is it… the dreams again, sir?" Kix asked once the door closed, not making any move to open the cabinets.

Rex shook his head. "My mind just won't turn off."

"Well… what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing I couldn't think about more clearly after a good night's rest," Rex replied.

Kix frowned and glanced away to the cabinets, but didn't seem to really be looking at them. Rex wondered what he was thinking, but decided not to ask.

"Well," Rex said after another moment, "are you going to give me something or not?"

"Yes, sir," Kix said hesitantly. "I haven't decided yet what would be most effective."

"I just need something to knock me out. Are there really that many options?"

Kix sighed, drumming his fingers lightly on his arm. "Well, it depends on why you can't sleep, sir. It's my responsibility to determine if there is a larger, underlying health concern. Look… Captain, don't take this the wrong way, but… I've noticed you're not feeling your best lately."

"I had a hole blown through my chest and shoulder," Rex said wryly. "Of course I'm not feeling my best."

"But before that," Kix said with a nervous laugh that faded instantly. "You know, when we were talking with Jesse in Seventy-Nines… you admitted we're susceptible to stress in combat. It's not as uncommon as you might think. I've seen the signs before."

Rex's heart sank. How could his inadequacy have been so apparent to everyone else, but invisible to him? Well, he'd known he was distracted, but he had never thought it was something that could diminish his decision-making abilities so disastrously, until the evidence was staring him in the face.

"I don't mean to assume anything," Kix said after a minute of silence. "But… obviously, things were rough on your last mission."

"Sorry, Kix," Rex sighed. "You're right. Some things went wrong… and I keep thinking about how I could have prevented it. That's all. I just need to get some sleep."

"Understood." Kix looked slightly relieved. He opened one of the drawers filled with carefully separated vials, and selected one to load into a hypo. "This should help."

Rex let him discharge the hypo before he stepped back toward the door. "Thanks." They headed out together in silence, Rex's mind suddenly racing. He realized this could be the last time they would see each other. "Keep up the good work, Kix…. It's good to know you're watching out for the rest of us."

"Yes, sir."

Kix was waiting for Rex to take leave before re-entering his quarters, but Rex merely stood there, fingering his modified comm. His life would now be composed of a series of lasts, and this was one he couldn't waste. Kix would be a good choice as a contact for Echo. The medic was good at keeping things confidential, keeping a cool headed exterior… most of the time. If anyone would give Echo a chance to explain what was happening before condemning him, it would be Kix.

"Listen, Kix…."

Kix merely stared at him, waiting patiently for whatever it was Rex was going to say.

Rex detached his comm and put it in Kix's hand. "I need you to keep this."

"Captain…?" Kix looked down at it, then looked back up to him. "What…?"

"I just need you to keep it on you. It's important. You'll know what it's for when the time comes."

"What—Captain, what's going on?" Kix looked sincerely worried now.

"Sorry, I can't explain anything more right now. You have to trust me."

Kix's fingers closed around it. "Yes, sir. You can count on me."

Rex felt a rush of gratitude for the 501st. They really were the best men he could have ever hoped for. He wished he could express just what it meant to him to have served with them these past years, but there was no time. What could he possibly say? He probably wouldn't even see the rest of Torrent Company before he left for Kamino.

He sighed slowly and turned away from the door to his men's quarters. "Goodnight," he said.

"Sleep well, Captain," Kix replied.

Rex left him and after a short walk, settled back into bed, feeling a suffocating loneliness. He closed his eyes, and he was on Umbara.

The red glow of the trees washed the haze in front of him and made it hard to distinguish the colors of those he was marching with, all of them hunting the corrupt Jedi general. But he knew them even so: Cody, Bly, Wolffe, Havoc, Doom, Blitz, Colt. His own men: Kix, Jesse, Singer, Appo, and all the others…even Fives and Echo.

As one they moved over the dark terrain, like Diode squad. They were one mind, unthinking; Rex felt his body moving as one piece of the group. It was a feeling he'd rejoiced in before, during battles where everything seemed to fall perfectly into place. They were going to get this general. Nothing could stop them.

Up ahead, figures materialized in the mist, marching ahead of them. They rushed forward and saw them change from the towering image of Krell to other forms. The familiar silhouette of General Skywalker loomed directly in front of Rex and, as if running down a cliff side, unable to change momentum, his arms moved of their own will, his finger pulled the trigger.

All around him, the same thing happened. A blinding flash of blaster fire hit the line of generals like a wave of light, and they all fell, smoking, with their faces somehow turned to show the pain and betrayal that twisted them. Skywalker gave a strangled yell, and although it was barely a word, Rex understood that the general was choking out his name.

"Finish him," said a voice that could have been his own. It didn't matter. They swarmed around their general and lit up the Umbaran night with their blasters, until Skywalker wasn't moving anymore.

The brightness and smoke cleared, and Skywalker was nearly unrecognizable. His head had been cradled between his arms, but one of the other men shoved it away with his boot and beneath the seared and scoured flesh of his face Rex saw one of his eyes, lidless and raw, staring lifelessly up at him, blood trickling down across the bridge of his nose.

Rex pulled his gaze away; death was everywhere he looked. General Mundi's corpse stared up at the sky, frozen in a look of utter shock. General Kenobi was lying on his stomach, and as Rex watched, the general's hand twitched, fingers scrabbling forward in the dirt and he lifted his head, gasping, trying to speak.

He saw his own arm rise in tandem with Cody's. One-two-three, the shots pierced Kenobi's head; one from him, two from Cody. Kenobi's face dropped back onto the ground.

"No!" a shrill, familiar voice. "Master!"

He recognized the rhythm of her footsteps before he even saw her. Commander Tano skidded down the dusty hill and fell to her knees, half crawling in her scramble to reach Skywalker.

"Master? Anakin?" She reached for her master's face, stopped short and bristled as she finally saw it clearly. "No…." She recoiled, rising onto her feet and taking one shaky step backward. Suddenly, as Rex aimed his pistol, she whirled, the horror and fear on her face more extreme than he had ever seen it. There were tears in her eyes.

"Rex!" she gasped, as if he'd punched her, and the pain turned to rage. "What did you do?" she snarled, and the tears rolled down her cheeks as she reached for her lightsabers.

Rex ran backward, inwardly frantic, a panicking animal struggling to burst from inside him. His fingers contracted. No! Stop! Two bursts of light, and Ahsoka staggered, a gulping noise escaping her throat as drops fell from her chin. Her face quivered, flickering between anger and blankness. One of her lightsabers switched off, fell from her hand and raised a cloud of dust to join the fog.

As if independently horror-struck by the sight of her suffering, his fingers convulsed on the triggers; they blinded him with the light of blaster fire. But not for long enough. Soon he could see her again, on the ground, face still wet and frozen in despair.

The building pain in Rex's chest exploded and he opened his eyes, clutched wildly at the edge of his bunk, lungs heaving as he twisted and barely kept himself from rolling off the edge. His whole body was prickling with a chill, a feverish sweat building as his head spun and each exhale was a gasp. He took a deep breath and tried to hold it for three seconds. It took several attempts before he managed it. His head swam and he put his hands over his eyes. When he breathed out and in again, chest feeling as if it were collapsing each time, he tried to think about something, anything other than the image of his general being shot in the back, riddled steadily with smoking holes as Rex and his brothers surrounded him like a mindless swarm of insects. Commander Tano's voice echoed in his head.

He would never live to see this dream come true. He tried to latch on to that thought, but that was no comfort. He thought of Kix and the others, sleeping soundly but unsuspectingly carrying these same nightmares with them, waiting to act them out. No one would be immune from the order once it came down.

There was no solution. Echo would fail. It was too much for any one man to fight.

Slowly, his breathing steadied a little, but his heart kept beating, blood pulsing audibly in his ears. He ran a hand over his skull repeatedly, wishing he could dig his fingers in and pull out that tiny bit of technology, and the nightmares along with it. The grogginess in his head made him feel irrationally disoriented. The drug was working to try and counteract the adrenaline in his system, but he couldn't possibly sleep now. Shaking, he got up and left the quarters, feeling desperately alone in the silence.

It was still silent out in the hall. He wasn't even sure how long he had been asleep. Rex lingered by the doors, not sure where he wanted to go, unable to stop quivering. There must be something he could do. The thought pounded in his head, but no matter how he tried to focus, there was nothing that would work. Even the most drastic ideas—even assassinating the chancellor—were hopeless. It was too late.