Chapter 13
…
"How does she look?" Obi-Wan asked, as Broadside emerged from the little ship.
"Prime condition, sir." Broadside rapped his knuckle twice on the hull. "Everything checks out with the one inside too. Should be a smooth ride."
"Good." Obi-Wan glanced over to where Anakin, Agent Soltam, and Rex had just entered the hangar. "I'm sure Republic Intelligence already checked but…."
"Right. No harm in a second opinion," Broadside said seriously.
Obi-Wan dismissed him with a brief nod and turned his full attention to the group approaching. Rex held a data-pad in hand but was otherwise unburdened; his equipment was already on board. He looked strange in the blank white armor—diminished.
"Do you have concerns about this mission, General Kenobi?" Soltam asked coolly when they had all come close enough.
"It's always wise to double check," Obi-Wan replied. "Is it time, then?"
"It is time," Agent Soltam agreed. "He is ready."
Rex, nothing but stoic attentiveness on his face, looked to Anakin, who had been equally silent during their approach.
"I won't disappoint you this time, sir," Rex said quietly.
The corner of Anakin's mouth pulled back, not quite a smile, not a grimace. He looked at Rex, although Obi-Wan could tell it was difficult for him.
"I'm counting on that."
For a moment neither of them moved or said anything more, until Rex drew himself up to full attention and gave a slow salute.
"For the Five-Hundred-First… for the Jedi… and the Republic." He looked at each of them in turn as he spoke, his voice soft and low. "I wish you good luck in future battles, General Kenobi, Agent Soltam… General Skywalker. May the war end swiftly… in victory for the Republic." Rex's hand curled into a loose fist at his side when he was finished.
Anakin unclasped his hands from behind his back. His face was unnaturally empty of emotion. "I'm pretty confident it will." Almost hesitantly, he held out a hand. "Goodbye, Rex."
Rex stared at it for moment. Then he clasped it firmly and looked up at Anakin, his composure wavering.
"Goodbye, sir," he said.
Obi-Wan stepped forward as they let go. "Our lives are in your hands. May the Force be with you."
"Thank you, sir." Rex met his eyes for only a moment before he turned away abruptly and made for the ship at a steady pace.
As he disappeared up the ramp, Anakin's face was… somber. Compared to the turmoil that was radiating from him, the expression was positively serene.
The ship fired up its engines and smoothly disembarked through the ray-shielded exit. Soon it was a speck in the distance, then a streak as it jumped to lightspeed, then nothing.
"I hope he makes the flight without incident," said Agent Soltam. Obi-Wan glanced at her. She seemed genuinely concerned, for the mission if nothing else.
"He will," Anakin insisted, and heaved a tense sigh. "You heard him. He repeated the instructions and coordinates back to you exactly. He'll get the job done."
"It's nice to know you have such confidence in him," Soltam said, smiling. "I'll take your word for it. Excuse me, Generals." She bowed slightly and walked away. Anakin's arms were folded so tightly that Obi-wan felt stiff just looking at him. He laid a hand on Anakin's shoulder.
"Anakin," he said.
"Not a lecture, Master," Anakin said dully, shrugging him off. "I know—I've already accepted this decision."
"Actually, I was going to say that you're handling the situation quite well, all things considered." Obi-Wan kept his tone gentle. "This is not exactly a happy occasion."
Anakin's frustrated look opened into a brief glimpse of grief; he stared at the floor and said nothing.
"He was a good Captain," Obi-Wan murmured. "But you've done all you can for him. It's out of your hands now." He resisted the urge to remind Anakin that Rex's sacrifice would save thousands of other lives, that returning to the Force was the fate of every creature and not to be feared—but those words would do more harm than good right now. Besides, he knew firsthand that the pain of loss was not something he was immune from. And Anakin knew all of that too.
"I know what my duty is," Anakin said quietly.
The door opened behind them and Tarkin's voice rang sharp across the floor.
"Ah… General Kenobi. I'm pleased to find you in health."
"Admiral Tarkin." Obi-Wan turned around, but the Admiral's eyes were on Anakin as he approached, hands behind his back. Anakin didn't seem surprised to see him.
"Admiral," Anakin said, a dull edge still weighing on his voice. "I suppose you're here to assist me in reorganizing the Five-Oh-First."
"Precisely." Tarkin gave a thin almost-smile. "Considering that the war effort is still in some desperation, it is imperative that we bring your men to order immediately. Their new roles and command structure must be clear and effective. You and your troops are needed on the front lines. So… if you'll gather them, I will speak to them straight away."
Obi-Wan expected Anakin to protest, to insist on speaking to them himself, to at least make some comment designed to remind Tarkin that his men were his men, and he would decide what to do with them.
"Right," Anakin said, and turned rigidly to go. "Follow me. I'll call them together."
This was not good, Obi-Wan thought, before he caught himself, puzzled. Why not? Anakin was following orders without protest, and doing a good job at restraining himself in this stressful situation. But something felt different—had felt different since about the time Anakin had told Rex they were ready to send him off.
It was probably just his own worries talking. It wouldn't do to hover over Anakin and wait for him to make a mistake. Obi-Wan sighed deeply and brought his mind back to his own duties. It was time to take stock so he could prepare the 212th for the next assault.
"Cody?" he called through the comm. link. It was silent. "Cody, are you there?" he tried again.
"Yes, General."
"Meet me in the command center on B deck. I'll need an updated report on the casualties from our last engagement."
"Yes, sir." The Commander sounded tired, but that was no surprise. Obi-Wan was tired, too—he'd have to take some time out before the siege on Clak'dor VII, make sure they were all as near peak efficiency as possible.
The moment he walked in to the command center, he knew they certainly weren't at peak efficiency now. Cody stood waiting for him, staring through maps of Clak'dor VII with half-lidded eyes. But crossing the threshold into his presence was like stepping through an electrified doorway—the burning pain and sensation of weakness swept through Obi-Wan and prickled its way down his arms.
It was enough to root him to the spot, and make him forget for a few seconds why he had come in the first place. Cody raised his head, blinked hard and came to attention, his eyes narrowed as if he had a headache. "Sir. I have the casualty report you requested."
"Right. Good," Obi-Wan said, a little faintly. He reached out and took it when Cody offered, peering worriedly at the Commander's impassive face. "Have we lost anyone since our arrival?" he guessed.
Cody's eyes slipped down for just a moment. "It's all there in the report, sir," he said quietly.
Obi-Wan started scanning the list of personnel, trying to puzzle out what could have happened to put Cody in such agony. He was no stranger to the Commander's emotions. Cody was usually fairly honest about his thoughts and feelings on whatever situation they found themselves in, although orders always came first, of course. It was that combination of openness and commitment that made him so easy to work with. But even battles with high casualties had never produced this particular level and tone of pain before—the sort that could make soldiers double over.
"Something has happened." Obi-Wan pressed in a hushed tone, lowering the pad. "Something I should know about. What is it?"
"It's a personal concern, sir. It won't affect our upcoming battles." Cody winced. "Maybe for the Five-Oh-First, but… not our men."
It hit him, then. "It's Captain Rex. I didn't realize…." He stopped himself; there was nothing he could possibly say that would comfort Cody at all.
He couldn't offer understanding, or any apology for how he hadn't thrown his influence toward saving Rex's life. There was no third option for a clone whose judgment was degrading to this extent. Cody knew that the system would never allow for such exceptions, that it wouldn't make sense to keep Rex in the army as he was. Saying so would only add insult to injury.
I didn't realize you loved him so much, Obi-Wan thought, but didn't say. Of course Cody had never made a show of having a deep friendship with Rex, beyond the same sort of general camaraderie most clone brothers had for each other. Attachment of this depth was as unacceptable for a clone as for a Jedi. Yes, he had sometimes sensed happiness in Cody when the 501st and 212th were assigned to work together, when they rendezvoused with them or returned to Coruscant after a time away… but he had never put two and two together.
For a moment, Obi-Wan wanted to offer his own fears as consolation. He knew something of what it was to watch a dear friend waver, to worry deeply over his state of mind. But the moment passed as he acknowledged how inappropriate—and unhelpful—that would be.
"Don't worry, General," Cody half-whispered. "I won't… let it get in the way…. He wouldn't want that."
"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed sadly, impressed at Cody's composure. "But… I would like you to get some more rest. It should help. Please, be sure to take care of yourself, so we'll both be at our best when we reach Clak'dor Seven."
Cody breathed out, the first audible sign of how he was feeling, and his face relaxed enough to give a dim reflection as well. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
"I need time to file our report on New Bornalex, anyway," Obi-Wan added. "And review our reconnaissance." He pushed on Cody's shoulder gently. "Go."
Cody nodded and walked off, and Obi-Wan watched him go. He looked again at the casualty report; there were deaths, yes. Names and numbers he knew. Many deaths, nearly every battle. He often told himself that war merely accelerated the pace of what would always occur in the long run—that to try to circumvent an inevitability was to fight against existence itself—but he couldn't shake the feeling that lately there was something darker than the natural cycles of the Force at work. His training told him not to struggle… to just let things unfold until they became clear. He took a deep breath and headed for his quarters.
…
The 501st Battalion, newly arrived onto the Destroyer from Xagobah, stood in quiet ranks on the wide floor of the mostly-empty hangar, by all appearances a perfectly ordered entity. General Skywalker stood on a small temporary platform with Admiral Tarkin, facing the men, and Kix stared back up at them, surrounded on all sides.
"I know you're all probably expecting a further briefing on our next mission," Skywalker called out. "But that will have to wait. There are going to be some major changes to the Five-Oh-First. Admiral Tarkin has come to assist me with the reorganization."
Kix took a long, hard look at the both of them as the General stepped tensely aside to let the Admiral speak. Reorganization that required assistance from Admiral Tarkin didn't seem like any of the usual shuffling of their forces.
Tarkin stepped forward with a nod to Skywalker and turned his sharp look on the men. "Up unto this moment, the Five-Hundred-First Battalion has been under the command of General Skywalker and your fellow clone Captain, CT-Seventy-Five-Sixty-Seven. You know him as Captain Rex." Tarkin paused for just a moment, long enough for Kix to feel unsettled. "You are probably all aware of the recent catastrophic defeats our navy has suffered, as a result of a computer virus which can disable both shields and weapon systems without warning. Your former Captain was deployed on a special mission to deal with this problem. However… due to negligence and an unsound mind, he nearly brought further destruction on us all."
Kix silenced the shocked huff of air that burst against his teeth, as if he'd run into a wall, and he fought the urge to turn his head to look at Jesse, one row back. Some of the others, even in front of him, broke focus to exchange startled glances. They should have more sense than that, Kix thought. Instinctively, he knew that drawing attention wasn't a good idea right now.
"We have seen fit to grant him one last chance to serve the Republic honorably," Tarkin said severely, "But the mission is not one which he will survive."
Hands aching faintly from being clenched too tight, Kix worked hard to keep his face and mind blank. Rex is dead. An unsound mind; defective.
"As a result, this Battalion is in need of a new command structure. General Skywalker will remain assigned to you. CT-Eleven-Nineteen will be promoted to Commander of the Five-Hundred-First, effective immediately."
Tarkin lifted his chin toward Appo, signaling him to step up onto the platform. The Sergeant—now Commander—took his place between Skywalker and the Admiral. He, at least, gave no indication of any feeling other than alert receptivity, but Kix scrutinized him anyway, wondering how in the Republic any of this made sense.
As the razor-cheekboned Admiral finished laying out a succession of other small promotions—Bow raised to Captain, Index and Brick to Sergeants—Kix watched his General too. Skywalker didn't look pleased. Well, at least there was a part of this situation that felt reasonable.
"From what I hear, the reputation of this Battalion has always been one of absolute competence," Tarkin said, carrying on in that excessively crisp inflection of his, each syllable precise despite a drawling undertone. "It may not be entirely shocking for a group of soldiers to become slipshod at the most crucial point in war, but that does not make such weakness tolerable. It certainly will not go unnoticed. Your General is not the only one counting on you to fulfill your purpose with skill and unwavering discipline. The Republic will suffer for any defect in the performance of this army. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!" the ranks around Kix thundered, and he joined in, despite how the Admiral's tone produced an all-too-familiar twist of anger.
"Dismissed," said Tarkin. But the men stayed more or less in ranks until the Admiral had gotten off the platform and was on his way out of the hangar, Skywalker striding close behind him. As soon as they were at a reasonable distance, Kix slipped through the crowd, looking for Singer.
"The Captain's gone?" Someone caught Kix by the shoulder. It was Jesse, eyes wide with shock. "He hadn't even fully recovered yet! Did you know anything about this?"
"No!" Kix huffed. "Don't you think I would have told you if I did?"
"Not if Rex or the General told you not to," Jesse argued. "But—" He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "They're talking about him like he's some kind of failure! He was nearly killed for that mission!"
"Keep it down," Kix urged, although everyone was murmuring to their neighbors now as they dispersed. He grabbed Jesse by the arm and hauled him through the crowd. "Ugh," he sighed hard. "I should have seen this coming…."
Jesse's voice instantly hushed. "What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you later."
Kix thought of the last time he'd seen Rex: the cryptic message about the comm. he'd passed to him, the inability to sleep. Rex hadknown the end was coming. But even before that, there was the unusually strong lethargy that had fallen on him while recovering from surgery, the increasing signs of fatigue Kix had noticed in the Captain ever since Ringo Vinda, the fact that he'd barely been involved in any of their missions lately….
"I don't like this," Jesse muttered, and Kix shared a glance with him, agreeing.
Singer was surrounded by a small knot of troopers near the platform.
"Hey. Lieutenant," Kix called. Singer turned toward them with a deliberately composed look on his face.
"Oh. Hello, Kix. Jesse." His composure faltered slightly. "Sad news about the Captain..."
"Sad?" Jesse scoffed. "Confusing, is what I'd call it! Or did you forget he just got out of surgery a few days ago!"
Singer looked startled at Jesse's tone. "Well, yes, but… he was obviously at least fit for the assignment, whatever it was…."
Jesse scowled. "Since when does the Republic knowingly send officers on suicide missions, anyway?"
"Singer, weren't you next in line to command?" Kix stepped out in front of Jesse, nudging him backward a bit with his elbow. "Appo was just a sergeant. I don't understand how they're passing over you like this. It doesn't make any sense."
"Ah… well…" Singer lifted one shoulder with a sad smile. "I'm sure the General has his reasons. More than rank goes into choosing a leader."
"If this was even the General's choice," Kix sighed. "He didn't look too happy about it."
"Well, think about it." Singer raised both hands slightly, one holding his helmet. "He's worked with Rex since the beginning of the war, right? Of course he's not happy about this. None of us are. But I'm certain Appo will make a fine commander."
"I wonder what went wrong," one of Singer's platoon said softly. "Must have been pretty bad."
"General Skywalker didn't say too much to us," Kix said hurriedly, uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. "Just that Rex's squad wasn't supposed to be detected by the enemy, but they were, and that's why he was injured."
"Yeah, we had to extract them from Anaxes," Jesse put in. "It was pretty bad…."
"But the mission was ultimately a success," Kix added, shifting so he could watch Jesse's face. "Our ships are working again!"
"Eh… there's probably something else they're not saying," suggested another clone—Rabbit.
"Maybe. But it's better not to think on it too much," said Singer, crestfallen. "There's nothing we can do now but focus on our next mission. Although… I would like to honor him somehow." He looked down at his helmet, the face bisected unequally by a thick, curving river of blue.
It was silent for a long moment. Silence was often the only response that made any sense with a loss like this… but then, they had never had a loss exactly like this. What could they say that would do any good? Kix thought bitterly. Even if they all felt something wasn't right here.
"I'll ask Ice if he has any ideas," Jesse finally sighed. "Something simple we can add to our armor."
"Yeah…." Singer nodded. "Something subtle, perhaps." His eyes flicked toward the door Tarkin had used to exit the hangar, then swept the last few knots of troops nearby. Kix was sure he was looking for Appo, and wondered how many of the others caught Singer's meaning.
"Yeah. Like what? How subtle?" Jesse asked in a harsh whisper. "I wouldn't mind even putting his name on my helmet." He slapped the side of it. "He deserves to have his memory taken with us into every battle! I mean, after everything he led us through, there's no way any of us can forget him. I'm sure the General and our new Commander will understand that."
"Right," Singer said, a little too quickly. "Of course. I only meant in the interests of… well…."
"We'll come up with something," Kix said, putting a hand on Jesse's shoulder. "I just wish we knew more about what inspired this decision." So I can prevent it from happening to anyone else.
"I don't." Singer sighed deeply. "I'm certain he would rather we remember him as the great leader he was. Not… whatever happened to him out there."
Kix gripped Jesse's shoulder a little, holding himself back as well from a bone-deep objection to the idea that Rex could have done anything so bad as to warrant this. It was just as unthinkable that Rex had been sent to his death for no good reason. As much as Kix hated to admit it, their former Captain had most likely fallen prey to exactly what he'd believed impossible.
Still, he felt sick with anger. But he knew from experience, from countless battles where each death he theoretically could have prevented piled up on him like grains of sand on a scale… he'd just have to wait for that feeling to pass. It was part of being a soldier.
"Everything alright, men?"
They all turned to see Appo approaching.
"Yes, sir," said Singer. "Congratulations on your promotion."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I only wish it came under different circumstances. Rex was a fine Captain." Appo frowned at the floor for a moment. "I'll do my best to lead as well as he did. Let me know if there's anything in your platoon that needs my attention."
"I will, Commander," Singer promised with a brief salute.
"And you too, Kix," Appo said. "I'm counting on you to make sure our men stay in top condition during the last legs of the war."
"I intend to, sir," Kix said slowly. "Wherever possible, I will be making more frequent health checks among the men."
"That's not a bad idea." Appo nodded. "Alright then. I'd better get up to the command center. Get some rest."
"Yes sir," echoed around the little group as Appo left.
"I think we're in good hands," Singer murmured when he was out of earshot. He motioned with his hand, taking in Kix, Jesse, and Rabbit. "We all worked under him on that mission to Skako Minor."
"Yeah," Jesse said with only a trace of reluctance. "It was a small team."
"If he knows how to make use of the chain of command, the number of men he's leading won't matter as much." Singer's tone was earnest. "It's our job to make sure everyone holds together, as much as his. We must give him all the support we can."
"Right," Rabbit sighed. "We can't make things any more difficult for the General, either."
"The Republic is counting on us," said Singer, as if half to himself. "The best thing we can do to honor Rex is to win this war. And to accomplish that, we must be united."
"Yeah," said Jesse. "You're right. But I'm still gonna talk to Ice."
"Let me know when you have a design," said Singer.
"We will," Kix promised. "C'mon Jesse."
They all parted with wordless nods or gestures, and as they crossed the vastness of the now mostly-empty hangar, Kix was already making a mental list of everyone who had shown the slightest signs of being at risk for a breakdown, over the past year and more recently. There were more than he liked to admit, but he knew that many moments of rage or panic in the midst of battle were temporary. But some showed themselves more frequently. Hex and Noname had been injured together on the Ryloth mission—one head wound, two broken hands and a blaster shot through the hip—and were always off in corners together, barely speaking to anyone else even after recovery. Zip was up at odd hours—did he ever sleep? Kix decided to watch more closely—and always seemed slightly jittery. Spines and Quotes kept getting into fights with each other about "nothing", and as for Avenger, well… in the beginning his goal of killing ten enemies for every dead brother in the battalion had seemed like harmless self-competition. But now, after nearly three years….
"Hey." Jesse's hand on his arm made him jump.
"What?" Kix snapped, and realized he'd been clenching his jaw—the beginnings of a headache ghosted through his skull.
"What?" Jesse echoed. "What are you thinking?"
Kix shook his head and took a moment to force a calmer posture. "Maybe you better keep an eye on me, Jesse," he warned, hushed. "I'm on edge."
"Right," Jesse said readily. "Sure, I got your back. It's because of Rex, right?"
"It's… everything," Kix sighed and ran a hand over his head. "I need to stop thinking about it. I'm gonna see if I can sleep."
"Okay." Jesse looked at him worriedly. "Yeah. Maybe I will too, but I'm gonna take a shower first."
"Alright. See you later."
They parted by the lift, and as Kix walked the rest of the way alone, he continued the list in his head, with a note to watch for how Rex's disgrace and death might affect the men. Rex was gone—thinking about how he might have saved him was no use. But knowing that didn't make the gut-twisting anger go away.
Several minutes later, armor removed and properly stowed, he lay down on a lower bunk, and closed his eyes. It was deathly quiet—only two other troopers were using the bunks, and they were far enough away that Kix couldn't really hear them breathing. He waited for his body to relax, his mind to go blank. Usually, if he counted breaths long enough, that did the trick. At two hundred breaths, his stomach was in a worse knot than before. At five hundred and fifty, there was a slight pressure in his throat like someone was choking him very gradually. He caught himself replaying the last moments he'd seen Rex, his memory zeroed in on the exhausted resignation in his Captain's face. He started the counting over. One… two… three…four….
He'd reached nearly a thousand when the door opened, and Kix lifted his head to see who it was.
"Hey. You're still awake?" said a hushed voice in the dark. Jesse came into view and looked down at Kix, armor-free and smelling of soap.
"Yes." Kix let his head fell back against the bed, exhaled harshly, and for a second, the knot in his stomach loosened a bit. "Maybe I need to take something."
Jesse shoved his armor crate into place and hauled himself up onto the upper bunk. "You think General Skywalker agrees with this decision?"
"What?" Kix evaded.
"You know what," Jesse hissed a strained sigh. "Kix, come on. That's what you're angry about, right? Well, so am I! Rex has never once in his life been negligent. And like I said…they're sending him on an actual suicide mission! Why didn't he tell us? I understand if the mission was confidential but… we're his team."
Kix swallowed against the fire in his throat, the urge to do something and let all of this come out.
"Something's just not right about this. Honestly," Jesse continued, "I'm worried about General Skywalker. What if there's someone just like…." Kix heard Jesse roll over and his face appeared over the edge—it was too dark to make out his expression well, though. "Someone just like Krell, but higher up… using the General like Krell used Rex? Forcing him to throw away his men?"
"You're being paranoid," Kix said with a humorless, quiet laugh.
"You think so?" Jesse paused a minute. "Maybe. It's just the way Admiral Tarkin was talking… guess it reminded me of how Krell talked to us. Like we aren't already out there every day following every order they give us. Like we can't even look at a Jedi sideways if we don't want to be called a traitor!"
"Jesse," Kix sighed. Jesse wasn't drunk this time, which made his doubts all the more questionable. "The fact is," he whispered, "the Captain was slipping. I saw the signs… but I didn't do anything. Not enough, anyway." The knot in his stomach drifted painfully up toward his chest.
"What signs?" Jesse breathed. "Did he say something to you?"
"Yeah. The other night… he came to me asking for a sleep aid. I could tell something was bothering him but he wouldn't talk about it. I'd been noticing things before that, though, and I don't just mean since he's been injured. It's only been getting worse with time, ever since Ringo Vinda. He was tired… and I heard from some of the wounded after the Ryloth mission that something went wrong with Rex's group in the canyon. He wasn't in the right place at the right time… he attacked too soon. And then he was on leave, remember? He was in his service uniform when he met us at Seventy-Nines… and then he was talking about having nightmares."
"I don't… really remember that night very well," Jesse said sheepishly.
"Right… guess you wouldn't. Well, Rex got us to talking about what happened the night Fives was killed." Kix fought to keep his voice from rising above a stage whisper. "And then somehow… we ended up talking about Umbara, and Rex said he'd been having nightmares about a mission where we have to kill the Jedi."
There was silence but for Jesse's breathing. Then, Jesse shifted a bit. "Maybe I do remember that part…." He sounded troubled. "A little bit."
"I asked him what he thought it meant that we all have these dreams. He said maybe it was stress related after all, because of how often we lose our friends because of the orders we're given." Kix laid a hand on his stomach, trying to deepen his breaths. "Rex wouldn't say something like that lightly. I think he was telling me something… I think… maybe watching Fives die was just too much. I mean, that's why we couldn't join the manhunt. It was just too much."
"Yeah," Jesse breathed in a low growl. "I'd rather die than have to fight against my own brothers again…."
"Rex really respected Fives," Kix sighed. "After Umbara."
"Who didn't respect Fives?"
"I think something happened when Rex and the General found him. Maybe just seeing Fives going crazy like that, getting shot down… it was too much even for the Captain. He hasn't been alright since then. And this mission was just the last straw…."
"What are you saying? You think he got injured because he was…." Jesse trailed off again uncomfortably.
"Yeah. I think… he's been losing his focus, his will to fight." It felt wrong to say it out loud. "Because of what happened to Fives. Last time I saw Rex he said he couldn't stop thinking about what he could have done differently on this mission."
"Well, it was an accident," Jesse muttered. "That means it wasn't his fault."
"I should have made him talk before I gave him anything." Kix stared into a dark corner of the room, feeling so sick with frustration that he had to sit up. "I should have trusted my instincts."
"What are you doing?"
Kix was on his feet and halfway to the door before Jesse had vaulted off the bunk and caught up with him.
"Kix, where are you going?" Jesse stepped in front of him and grabbed his shoulder.
"To get an antiemetic." Kix swallowed, breathing through his mouth. "So I don't throw up on you."
Jesse let go and took a step back, hands raised. "Okay. Okay, fine. But… it's not your fault."
Jesse followed him out into the hall, both of them squinting against the brightness at first. Kix could see Jesse's troubled look all too clearly as they took the trip to the medical supply room.
"Look, the way I see it," Jesse went on bitterly, raising his voice the moment the door closed, "If what you're saying is true… either Rex could have gotten better but someone decided he wasn't worth it… or he couldn't, and he probably would have gotten killed in battle one of these days. Either way, there's nothing you could have done!"
Kix kicked one of the packs against the wall, hard. He gave a muffled cry at the pain in his foot, wanting to tear something apart with his bare hands but knowing that wouldn't help anything.
"No matter how many droids we kill, it doesn't mean anything!" he snarled. "No matter how many battles one of us fights, no matter how many times we bleed out on the battlefield and risk everything, and lose someone, it all means nothing the moment we—!" He stopped himself, chest heaving, when he saw Jesse's frightened eyes staring at him.
"Kix…."
"I'm cracking too." Kix sat down heavily on the floor and fumbled with the straps of the med pack. He stopped and held himself still for a moment, disturbed by how such a simple movement was made difficult by the roiling revulsion that had taken hold of his body. "Ah…this isn't good, Jesse," he said faintly, putting a hand to his clammy forehead. "I can't let this happen to me…."
Jesse knelt in front of him and took the med pack, opened it, and set it on the floor facing Kix.
"Which one do you need? This one?" Jesse pointed at the antiemetic, but Kix shook his head.
"I think I'm… I just need some kind of sedative, maybe." Kix tried to focus around the sickening rage. His hand hovered indecisively over the vials, and he noticed it trembling slightly just before Jesse covered it with both of his hands. For some reason, that made Kix's throat hurt even worse. "It's been a long time since I've done this, huh?" he managed after a couple of slow breaths.
"What? You mean lost your temper?" Jesse looked at him with dismay. "I think that's a little different…."
"It kind of feels the same," Kix said shakily, trying and failing to laugh normally. He put his other hand over Jesse's. "Just this time…there's no one around for me to hit."
Jesse didn't say anything to that, just kept Kix's hand pressed between both of his, and after a moment Kix realized which vial he wanted and pulled gently away. He reached for the hypo and jammed a medium-strength sedative into it. "You think General Skywalker will be calling any other meetings within the next five hours?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"This is going to knock me out pretty hard. Maybe I should pick something else…." Kix closed his eyes, frustrated and a little terrified at how hard it was to think clearly.
"Kix, hey… it's gonna be alright," Jesse said firmly. "Look, just take something light and if it doesn't work, you can up the dosage, right?"
"Right," Kix breathed. "Right, that makes sense. Thanks, Jesse…."
He reloaded the hypospray and gave himself the shot while Jesse looked on in concern.
"Better?"
"It'll take a minute." Kix focused on putting everything away neatly into the pack. "I need to get an idea of how many others in the Five-Oh-First are at risk for this. But I don't even know why this is happening to me…."
"You don't think… it's that parasite again, do you?" Jesse whispered.
"No… we were immunized. It's psychological, I'm sure of it. Once I get some sleep, I'll try to figure out what induced it in myself… maybe then I'll know how to pinpoint it in the other men, keep it from happening…."
"Well…" Jesse stood and offered a hand to help Kix up. "Rex was just literally ordered to his death. The last time you were feeling anything like this was on Umbara. And what happened there?"
"We were being ordered to march into death trap after death trap," Kix hissed, the surge of rage confirming Jesse's words. He took Jesse's hand and got to his feet. "But… it's also when I was ordered not to go back for the wounded."
Jesse just looked at him sadly.
Kix shook his head, feeling cornered. "Losing good men because of our orders… having to leave them behind. That's not going to stop happening any time soon. Not until we win the war. But we might not win the war if this starts happening to all of us." He took a step toward the door and stopped. "I hope it's just me. Maybe it's just me… we've had men in the Five-Oh-First before who were just… a little different. Tup was like that…."
"Kix, don't talk like that," Jesse said uncomfortably.
"But I have to work on the assumption that it can happen to anyone," Kix went on, as if he hadn't spoken. He headed out into the hall.
"Kix," Jesse said again. "Maybe you should talk to…."
"To who?" Kix turned toward him, finger hovering over the door switch. "This is what got Rex killed. It's called being defective. You think I'm going to tell them I have it too? General Skywalker might not like what's going on, but he wasn't able to stop it, either. I'm not saying anything to anyone. This is something we have to handle ourselves."
"Right…." Jesse's face fell. "Of course… I won't say a word. I'll just… keep an eye on you."
"Yeah. Maybe if I can identify who else is at risk, I can assign some of the men to watch them too." Kix could feel the anger uncoiling, the fuzzy calm coming over his mind. "That should at least keep them alive a little longer…."
He opened the door and went inside, back into the darkness, and for a moment the awful feeling spiked again, then settled. He rolled into bed with a huge sigh and watched as Jesse climbed into the bunk above him again. Something swelled in his throat, a heat blooming in his eyes that made him feel like he was about to choke. But then it passed, and he could feel sleep coming for him.
"You're gonna be fine, Kix," Jesse whispered in the darkness.
…