Chapter 17
…
Something was buzzing. There was always some noise on a spaceship, even if it was just the quiet hum of circuits or life support systems pumping air. But there was something buzzing loudly, and it seemed to be getting louder the longer Rex lay on the thin pallet, breathing the stale air through chapped lips and trying to ignore the fact that every inch of his body was aching.
He kept his eyes closed. The light from the ray shield only made his headache worse. If he opened his eyes he would see the packs of water he had still refused to touch, the ration cubes the droid had left on the floor in front of him, close enough that Rex imagined he could smell them, even though he'd never thought of ration cubes having much of a smell before.
They had trained him for this, on Kamino. Resisting interrogation. Choosing deprivation and death when in the hands of the enemy. The hours had passed in increments measured by how many words of the reg manual he could recite under his breath, particularly the sections on procedure in case of capture. All interspersed with confused images of being back in the hospital on Coruscant, back in the lab in Drann, lying immobilized in the dirt somewhere surrounded by the dead Jedi of his dreams.
His mind ran over the same sentences again and again. Names: Skywalker, Anakin, Cody, Echo. "Fives…."
The sound of the door opening made his whole body jerk, and he hissed as his cramped muscles and nerves spasmed.
"You did not obey my orders," the droid's grating voice scratched its way into his skull. "You have not eaten any of the ration cubes I left for you. I do not think you have consumed any fluids in the past forty-eight hours. This is unacceptable."
Rex pretended to be asleep. Maybe if he was convincing enough, the droid would leave. Maybe it would think he was dead and toss him out an airlock. Not likely.
The door closed. The buzzing stopped and the light softened. The droid's steps vibrated through the floor under him, and still Rex stayed perfectly still. Something touched his shoulder, sparking pain and a panic response he could barely fight down. The droid shook him roughly and Rex couldn't help grunting, a creaky noise squeezing involuntarily from his dry throat. He coughed uselessly, his whole body shuddering.
"You are conscious. We should arrive on Elrood in approximately one hour, thirteen minutes. You will be given intravenous fluids."
There was no way he was going to die or escape before then. The droid would find a way to drug him and get the information either way, Rex realized. No. No excuses.
"I know what you believe I am doing, human," said the droid. "You believe I have drugged the water to prepare you for interrogation. But you are so weak I could easily give you the same drugs with a hypospray, and you would not provide any significant resistance. It is equally ineffectual for you to deny yourself the fluids necessary for survival."
Now that his body had started shaking again, he couldn't get it to stop. Frustration burned his eyes as he opened them to the bleary sheen of the metallic world around him: metallic water packs, metallic floor, and the bent knee of the tactical droid.
"If you wished to die, then why did you desert? Why did the intermediary ask that your life be preserved?"
The droid's droning vocal tone was incapable of much variation, but to Rex it sounded almost agitated. Right. A tactical droid was a tactical droid.
"You will be required to walk when we land in Elrooden. If you are not capable, I will be required to create an intravenous hydration system for you myself. The result may not be pleasant."
Rex turned his head just a fraction of an inch; the room tilted and warped. His body flushed with nausea. He forgot why he had made the attempt in the first place.
There was a ripping and popping noise, and a moment later, lukewarm water hit Rex's face, rushing into his eyes and nose, a few stale drops making it into his mouth before he could close it. He coughed and raised a shaking, uncontrollable hand to wipe his eyes. The droid opened another pack, grabbed his wet, trembling fingers and wrapped them around it.
"It is clear to me now why other species consider your kind to be no more than organic droids. I have a more rational approach to survival than you do. You have not adapted to the situation. You are operating on an outdated set of variables."
The droid rose to its feet.
"I predict you may argue that you are serving some greater purpose by denying yourself. I do not see your point of view. You are no use to any other being or organization if you no longer exist. Certainly you are no use to me."
The droid left. Rex heard the door close. He licked his lips and felt a distant sense of guilt, even though his throat was so dry he couldn't even swallow the drops he'd accidentally caught. Against the voices of his trainers on Kamino, against the angry and disappointed face of General Skywalker, he edged the nozzle of the water pouch closer to his mouth with his uncooperative hand, and after a few wet coughs, he swallowed a mouthful. Then another.
After the fourth he managed to sit up—to stay sitting up, and wait for the room to stop spinning. His left arm had gone numb and began to tingle painfully as he wiped his scratchy face on his sleeve. It had taken too long for him to settle into a position that didn't cause blistering needles to stab him in the shoulder and chest, and then he had lost all his will to move.
Rex looked up. The droid had left the ray shield off. The buzzing was softer; the light was kinder, muted, coming from the edges of the room rather than directly above. But no doubt the door was still locked. Rex finished off the water pouch and drained another one before chewing slowly on a ration cube, trying to think. His head already felt a little clearer, the room a little steadier. He could taste the cube, the gritty flavor of it, and it was deliciously familiar in its blandness.
The droid had said Elrood, not the Akuria system. Elrood was a populated planet; if they were really headed there, he would need his strength and wits for whatever was in store, especially if there was some chance of escape. He might not be able to fight the droid, but maybe he could lose it in a crowd. If there was a crowd. Best to be ready for anything.
One more packet of water. One more ration cube between his teeth. Then, forcing deep breaths, Rex grabbed the edge of the empty storage container and hauled himself to his feet.
It was the first time in—what—the droid had said forty eight hours had passed, at least. It was the first time he could really move around the room freely. Despite its emptiness, Rex methodically paced his way over every square foot of his cell. Yes, the door was locked. The sink in the corner didn't seem to have been used in ages, and gave no water when Rex tried to activate it. There was no mirror on the wall.
Rex turned away and circled the room slowly, counting each lap. After twenty, he took a break to eat and drink, to try stretching out his shaking arm. The droid nurse back on the star destroyer—that already felt like ages ago. He had memorized the exercise regimen it had given him. He sighed and went through the motions, extending and recoiling his arm. Ten times in each direction, it was supposed to be, or five if he couldn't manage ten. After ten in only one direction, the pain had his vision swimming again and his breath coming short.
Pacing it was, then. Just a little break. Ten rounds. Twenty. Ten in the opposite direction. Elrood. Rex didn't remember learning anything about that planet, except that it used to be a peaceful, Republic-allied world. Perhaps there was someone among the millions of beings on the world that would help him. The trick would be finding them.
…
Finally, after Rex had given up pacing and gone on to test his good arm's strength—hours later, he was sure—Rex felt the ship rumbling with a deep, sustained vibration. It could only be atmospheric resistance. He felt himself shift through long habit into greater alertness.
After a few minutes, it let up. A few more, and the little ship settled down. He stepped outside of the ray shield's emission range and stared at the door, waiting for the droid to come in with whatever ally it might have on this planet. The minutes dragged on. Surely it had been nearly half an hour already.
"Droid?" Rex said hoarsely into the silence, knowing it was probably futile. "I get it. Make me wait," he sighed under his breath.
The pain in his shoulder was finally receding to normal levels. Loneliness rushed in to fill its place, and Rex tried to think of something else, anything but the people he'd left behind. But who was this intermediary the droid kept talking about, and what happened to Echo's contact? Echo, who had been so sure he could do nothing to help. It wasn't time to give up yet.
Rex jumped again when the door opened, startled out of memories. Instead of the E-5 rifle, the droid held a bundle of clothing. It turned its flat head immediately toward where Rex stood near the doorway, and threw the bundle at his feet. Instinctively, Rex backed up a few steps.
"I see you have come to your senses," said the droid. "Or your injury was simply a ruse. I will know soon enough."
"What's this?" Rex nudged the wad of cloth with his foot, and the droid flung down a pair of boots as well.
"You will draw unwanted attention wearing… that." The droid pointed with one of its wedge-like fingers at Rex's chest, where the Republic roundel was imprinted on his under suit. "Listen carefully, human. I still have clearance codes from the general I served under, which is why I was able to dock here, but they may not be sufficient to turn away all suspicion from citizens of Elrooden en route to our destination. You are to act as my human counterpart. In the event we are questioned, I was assigned as your escort by General Chikset."
"Wait. You want me… to pretend I'm some friend of this… General Chikset?"
"Yes. I will supply any details as necessary. The probability that anyone will question us is already low. Elrood has not been involved in any recent conflict, and will not be familiar with your kind. But it is wise to have a plan for multiple contingencies."
Rex stared at the droid, waiting for the catch.
"What is our destination?" he asked.
"The nearest hospital. There are droid staff there who will cooperate with me."
"And… we're just going to walk in the front door?" Rex asked skeptically.
"Yes. They will not refuse a patient who is clearly in pain." The droid stood still and stiff, blocking the doorway with its body, only its head turned toward Rex.
"It's not going to work," Rex muttered. "The minute they try to do any scans, they'll probably realize what I am…."
"I already stated my confidence that they will not be personally familiar with clones of your template."
Rex frowned, weighing his options. "Look… droid… why are you helping me?"
"There could be unforeseen advantages to an alliance between us," said the droid. "Even if you prove useless, I made an agreement to take you to a place of relative safety."
"You're trying to tell me you're acting under some sort of… sense of honor?" Rex narrowed his eyes.
"I would not waste time attempting to persuade you of such a thing," droned the droid. "If you have no further objections to the plan, then you must put on the civilian clothes I have provided."
"I do have one objection," Rex said, unsteadily lifting his left hand. "This wrist has an identification chip in it. If they scan my arm, they will know what I am. Even if you aren't trying to interrogate me, you can't guarantee that they won't turn me in."
The droid tilted its head and took Rex's trembling wrist in its cold metal grip, yanking it up to eye level to inspect it. Rex gritted his teeth against a shudder of revulsion—trying to pull away would only make the pain and shaking worse. The droid activated a small scanner attached to the side of its head, and a hologram of Rex's face and basic military history appeared. It hadn't been updated since the latest mission to Ryloth, Rex realized.
"This chip could allow the Republic to track you."
"Yes," Rex said after a tense heartbeat.
"Unacceptable," said the droid, its white empty eyes seeming to narrow as it dipped its head. "It will be removed. I will contact the medical droid. You will be dressed when I return."
It released his arm and left the room. Rex wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake. The droid could be going to confirm his identity to its superiors this very moment. But all he could do was play along with the charade until an opportunity for escape presented itself. The more he knew about the world he was escaping onto, the better.
The clothes on the floor turned out to be a sleeveless tunic (so worn that Rex could only guess it used to be white), a dark brown hooded poncho, baggy grayish trousers and boots that were an entire size too big. Well, better too big than too small, although he had never worn clothing that fitted him so badly before. It was lucky the pants came with a belt. He was taking experimental paces in the boots, still frustrated by his own unsteadiness, when the droid came back.
"Where did you find these?" Rex asked. "They don't exactly smell clean."
"I eliminated a criminal. He was carrying a weapon within city limits. That is strictly illegal for anyone who is not under special permit from city officials."
Rex stared at the droid, then down at the clothes he was wearing.
The droid tilted its head. "He was a citizen of the confederacy. Are you feeling pity for your enemies, human?"
Rex made a disgusted noise under his breath. "You must have been carrying a weapon too."
"There was no need. Human bodies are fragile. You must be particularly aware of this."
Rex kept his left arm tucked against his stomach, hidden under the poncho, and glared at the droid as he pulled his hood up. "So… we're going to the hospital. I pretend you're my droid escort from General Chikset. How was I injured? Some kind of skirmish on my homeworld?"
"Yes. Agamar. Do not divulge this unless someone important asks." The droid raised an admonishing hand before grabbing Rex firmly by the arm, just under his right shoulder. "Do not engage civilians in unnecessary conversation."
The droid really didn't have a weapon anywhere in sight, but Rex knew the moment that vice-like hand closed on his arm that the droid didn't need one. The effortless brutal strength behind that grip did make his flesh and bones feel fragile, and there was no armor now between him and anything the droid chose to do. It could probably snap his arm in half if it tried.
As the droid steered him down the hall, his oversized boots made him feel clumsy. They weren't in any danger of coming off, but his clothing and armor had always been a fitted extension of his body. To feel his feet shifting around was disconcerting.
They entered an airlock just off the hangar—bright light and sound hit Rex from the open gangplank: voices, perhaps even human voices! The rushing of wind was startlingly loud. He and the droid stepped out into the light, and Rex got only a glimpse of other ships along with distracted human and Teltior dock workers before the cool air hit his face and blew back his hood. Desperately he groped with his free, quivering hand to pull it back up.
"Leave it," the droid commanded. Or suggested. There was, Rex realized, some advantage to its complete lack of expression. Onlookers could take the comment however they wanted, and only guess from his reaction whether they were right.
He let his hand drop with a shiver and gave in to the urge to simply look around, struck by the miracle that he had lived to set his feet on solid ground again.
The port was set on an immaculate, light sand-toned platform extending toward and then over the side of a large canyon. The purplish rock formations below were only hazily visible, but above, the city spread wide and walled in places, glinting with the glass and metal of miniature turbines rotating on the rooftops. In the opposite direction, patches of bright green blush covered the downward slope of the nearly empty land.
As he stared, he became suddenly aware that one of the human port officials was approaching.
"Jek Novar, is it?" said the official, consulting his small handheld. "Will you be taking full responsibility for this droid while in the city of Elrooden? I only reluctantly cleared it to make a supply run. If it is found straying from your supervision inside the city, I am obligated by law to report it."
"Yes, ah—yes sir," Rex said hurriedly. The droid increased pressure on his arm.
"Forgive the interruption," grated the droid. "Master Novar is very ill. We must proceed to the hospital at once."
"Alright." The official looked closely at Rex before he nodded briskly. "Do you require transportation? Accommodation? It would be my honor to arrange it for you, sir."
"No… I'm fine. Thank you." Rex managed to keep his own sir silent. "Carry on."
And, miraculously, the official passed by with barely another glance. The droid waited until he was several paces away before jerking Rex forward by the arm.
"You are not very convincing," said the droid when they were almost to the security gate. "You hesitated in answering to your name."
"I didn't hesitate," Rex growled under his breath, heart thudding.
"You glanced away and hesitated for approximately point-three seconds. Your expression indicated confusion. Your complexion changed." The droid was, apparently, capable of lowering the volume of its voice significantly.
"If I'm not convincing," Rex hissed back, "it's because you didn't brief me on who I'm supposed to be. Would Jek Novar wear these clothes?"
"You narrowly escaped a conflict with Republic forces. You are ill. No one will care what you are covered with."
"I'm not so sure about that," Rex muttered, drawing back his shoulders. He tried to keep his stride confident and his face composed. This was enemy territory; he needed to process what was going on. His head felt too light and the dizziness was still clinging on a little.
The attendant at the security gate waved them through when the droid flashed a hologram of a Koorivar—presumably, General Chikset. Then they were in a wide, busy street, full of faces—both the earthy tones of humans and the blues and grays of Teltior, long heavy ponytails swaying against the backs of the males. Shops lined both sides of the street, which led to one large plaza straight ahead.
"This road ends in the Daya of the Elrood Bazaar," said the droid. "The hospital is southeast of this position."
Rex hadn't managed to get his bearings before entering the city, and although the sun was high in a clear, greenish sky, he couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. He stayed silent and let the droid lead him, although he thought his arm might already be bruising under its grip. They went right, through an intersecting street which curved gradually to the left. The buildings, an unusual combination of decorative brick and elegant metal, were too tall and close together for the sun to hit the ground. No weapons in sight on anyone, even as the street became more crowded and cluttered.
If the droid really wanted to help him, Rex had to admit, this was probably one of the best options among Separatist worlds. Its secession from the Republic seemed to have come without major damage so far, but it had only been a few years. It seemed unlikely that the Separatists would bring him here rather than some military base. But he had no idea what they might be planning.
The droid pulled Rex around a corner, and within a few more streets he caught sight of the familiar red and white medical symbol on the central segment of a wide, three-spired building.
"When we enter, human, I will do the talking," said the droid.
"Fine with me, droid," Rex grunted.
As they left the narrow street and came toward the fenced edge of an elevated square, Rex fought the urge to get a better visual on every other sentient in the crowd. The more confidently he presented himself as a citizen with nothing to hide, the better. Still, his neck prickled at every person who met his eyes or passed out of his line of vision. One old woman smiled at him with such sudden brightness that Rex couldn't help but stare back in alarm, thinking she had mistaken him for someone she knew and would stop them to talk. But the droid's pace quickly carried them out of earshot in the whipping wind, and Rex didn't look back.
A long curved ramp arched over the street below and up to the hospital entrance, guarded by low transparisteel walls and the occasional sculpture of some four-hoofed animal Rex was unfamiliar with. Inside the glass doors, the droid took Rex right up to the front desk. The brisk pace had his breath coming short, and his heartbeat tripped uncomfortably as the woman there looked up at him and gave a crooked frown at the droid. She was gangly, young, and had a low, fluffy nub of a ponytail. Her matching eyebrows were drawn in a serious look that Rex hoped was habitual.
"Excuse me," the droid said. "Master Novar has an appointment with Doctor Hulseech. It is urgent. He is not well."
"Just one second," she said as she pulled up a file on the desk's screen. Any second now she would give some further indication that she was suspicious of him… she would call for backup….
He glanced around to assess the room for exits. No back door immediately visible. There was the way they came in and adjacent windows but that would likely be the first they would block. If the droid really wasn't his ally, there was no hope unless someone else took it out. In that case his best bet would be to break out the windows of an adjacent hallway—not a guaranteed possibility without a weapon or armor—or hide somewhere until an alternate exit was found. Civilians in the hospital would get caught in the fight if they went to the upper floors—
"Right. She's busy right now, but one of her droids will be down in a moment to lead you up. Have a seat."
Rex lurched slightly as the droid tugged him toward the bench. Once they reached it, the droid hesitated for a moment before sitting, pulling Rex down beside it. The large human man sitting on the other end of the bench gave the tactical droid a scandalized look and went back to watching the newscast.
The other patients barely seemed to notice Rex. Instead, they cast furtive, bothered glances at his metal companion. Up on the wall's screen, video played silently with subtitles, showing distant footage of a smoking city surrounded by trees.
Republic gunships continue to swarm the skies over Calna Muun. At least five hundred civilians are currently listed as missing and not to be found on any official evacuation craft. Reporters in the field have been unable to approach the city, but they are now relaying the eyewitness reports of several evacuees.
The video switched to a young man holding a tearful child snuggled against his chest, crowded in on all sides by fellow humans. He stroked the little one's tangled hair as he spoke soundlessly to the reporter.
"I remember being a Republic citizen. It wasn't so long ago. Most of my life, you know, we were part of the Republic. I never thought they would attack like this, even though we're part of the Confederacy now. I guess I don't know what they want from us. We're just farmers."
"How long were you given to evacuate?"
"I never heard they—if I had heard anything, if I had heard there was going to be an attack, I wouldn't have gone into the capitol this morning. We would have gone somewhere else to sell."
The screen flashed video clips of an agrarian city, streets filled with carts full of crated goods, and various tradesmen setting up shop.
At approximately 11:25 local time, Republic gunships were spotted in the sky above Calna Muun. Ground troops cut off all exits within an hour. They were
A spindly medical droid walked into Rex's line of sight, breaking his focus on the screen. "The doctor is ready to see you now," it said, in a low, soothing voice. It sounded nearly human after the tactical droid's monotonous droning.
"Very good," came the grating answer from Rex's right, and he got to his feet at the droid's silent insistence. The man on the bench scooted slightly over and his posture noticeably relaxed.
The movement made Rex feel feverish again, but his head cleared a little once they had moved down the hall and into a lift. The droid pushed the button for the eleventh floor, but the lift stopped on the third to let in a worried-looking Teltior. She gave a disapproving glance at the droid before leaning against the opposite corner, lost in thought. The lift stopped again on levels five, six, and eight. A human mother and her young child didn't see the droid until they were inside the lift. The girl jumped and gasped audibly.
"That's a tactical droid!"
"How do you know that?" hissed the mother, staring.
"I am a tactical droid," said the tactical droid. "I am escorting this unhealthy human."
"They're super dangerous," said the kid to her mother before turning a suspicious eye back on the droid. "I don't know if this one is good."
"I am very dangerous in battle," said the droid, "to my enemies. But I do not intend to engage you in battle. As you can see, I do not carry a weapon."
The mother picked up her daughter and took a small step away from the droid. She pressed the button for level 9.
"Are you contagious?" asked the kid, and Rex realized she was speaking to him. He smiled weakly, noting the mother's defensive posture and watchful eye. He wondered just how unhealthy he looked with his unshaven and bruised face, never mind the scruffy clothing.
"No," he said quietly. "I'm not contagious. Don't worry."
She quirked her eyebrows and pulled a curl of hair over her upper lip. "Well that's a relief."
The mother carried her off in a hurry. Once again the lift was empty of civilians, and Rex realized numbly just what a bizarre situation he was in. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined depending on a tactical droid's social skills to help him avoid capture in enemy territory. It was like a dream where no one but the dreamer seems to notice his missing clothes.
At long last the lift reached the eleventh floor. The medical droid led them down another colorfully tiled hallway and into a small room with a single surgical table.
"Doctor Hulseech will not disturb us," said the medical droid in its mild voice as it shut the door. "TL-Eighty-Nine, I never expected you to bring me a patient."
The tactical droid—TL-89—finally let go of Rex's arm, shoving him away from the door. Rex managed to stay steady on his feet as it took up position in front of the exit, its blocky arms at its sides.
"Can you remove his ID chip?" it asked.
"Why don't you take this off and let me have a look at your arm," said the med droid, reaching for Rex's left side and pulling up on the poncho. "Don't worry, I just want to assess the damage."
Reluctantly, Rex took it off. The med droid's grip on his arm was so gentle it seemed to be barely touching him. It extended his arm carefully and scanned his shoulder.
"I want this human restored to good condition," said TL-89. "He must be presentable if my use of him is to be effective."
"Your use of me?" Rex scowled. "What exactly are you going to use me for?"
"I will need to do a more thorough scan," said the med droid. "Please lie down on the table."
Glancing away from TL-89's stubbornly mute gaze, Rex obeyed. The scanner arced up from the sides of the table, joining together over Rex's chest. The med droid examined the data on the linked pad.
"Who did you retrieve this clone for, TL-Eighty-Nine?"
"For myself," said the droid. "I will be responsible for his life… if you predict he will survive his injuries."
"What?" Rex scoffed. "What about the intermediary you mentioned? What about dropping me off on some deserted planet?"
"Hmm," said the med droid, nodding to itself. "I see. But I do not think you will make a good caretaker for this clone. You seem to have forgotten that humans require water and food to survive. He is severely dehydrated."
"I did not forget. He refused my offers of sustenance. I will be more forceful in the future."
"His shoulder and chest has a great deal of scar tissue, most likely from blaster wounds. It has been injured before, recently injured again in a similar fashion. I see signs of recent surgery."
"Yes," Rex said, loudly and clearly. "I had reconstructive surgery on the nerves in my shoulder. Do you think it will heal?"
"With physical therapy, and if you do not overtax yourself… there is a possibility, yes."
A possibility. That sounded worse than the first opinion he'd gotten.
"If you intend to keep him, removing the ID chip is a wise decision," said the med droid, moving to examine Rex's wrist. The table's scanner retracted and Rex sat up. "I would recommend buying him better clothing as well, to reduce suspicion about his origins."
"Listen," Rex growled, staring at his captor. "I never said I would cooperate with you. Whatever you're planning! I'm not about to be some droid's servant."
"You have no choice but to cooperate, if you are to survive." Rex imagined an undertone of smugness in the droid's voice. "I make your presence in Separatist space legitimate. You make my presence in human space legitimate. You have no credits, no status, and no means of transportation. Yet, as you have already seen, civilians will not dare dispute your allegiance when you are accompanied by me."
"I will anesthetize the area, but you may want to be unconscious for the surgery," interrupted the med droid in the same soothing tone.
Rex felt an overwhelming urge to kick the med droid away and dive for the door, but his body still felt so weak, he knew such a desperate attempt would never succeed. As infuriating as it was to admit it, the tactical droid was right. He couldn't think of any better way to move freely among civilians and avoid detection, at least for now. And as risky as it was, a chance to fulfill his true mission was standing right in front of him, selecting a hypospray.
"Wait! Wait!" Rex protested, snatching his arm out of the med droid's grasp. "I…."
Both droids' eyes glowed silently at him, white and dull yellow.
"If you really want to keep me out of the Republic's hands," Rex began slowly, "if… you really want me to cooperate with you, you're going to have to do more than just remove the ID chip. That's not the only way the Republic can get to me."
TL-89 just stared, its squashed-looking head tilted in a way that Rex read as skeptical, but which could have meant anything. He took a deep breath.
"There's another chip. In my brain. It's probably hard to detect… but it's capable of overriding my will so that I have to obey any order I'm given by… Republic officials. I don't know how it's activated, but I do know it's been triggered before in other clones, and those clones have attacked allies and killed them. As long as it's in my head, I'm still nothing more than their weapon."
The tactical droid didn't move or speak for a few seconds.
"Ha, ha, ha," it finally said, and gestured to the med droid. "Scan his brain. We will see if this chip exists."
"Why would I ask you to cut open my head if it didn't?" Rex grumbled. He lay back down on the table feeling cold.
"You have a very low regard for your own life. Your motives are likely irrational."
Rex sighed shakily as another scanner closed over his head. An unpleasant vibration started at the base of his skull and moved up through his teeth, nose, and eye sockets. He wasn't sure if that was an effect of the scan or just a headache from the pain in his shoulder.
"I do not see any chip," said the med droid.
"It's there!" Rex barked. "Look again."
"I will do a more thorough scan. What am I looking for?"
"It's… large, completely organic." Rex tried to remember what the Mrlssi and the commandos had said, back in Drann. "It requires an extremely invasive scan to even detect, but… in at least one of the soldiers, it was located here, in this area." Rex reached up to touch the right side of his head, where the Mrlssi scientists had scanned Echo.
"Nothing is coming up. I do not recommend an atomic scan in your weakened state. It is likely to be unpleasant at best. Brain surgery is also inadvisable."
"Perform the scan," commanded TL-89. "He will present an unacceptable risk if he is telling the truth."
"This may result in some nausea," said the med droid. "Please try to lie still and take deep, calming breaths. I am injecting you with an antiemetic."
Rex closed his eyes and inhaled slowly as the hypo discharged. In less than five seconds a feverish heat washed over his skull, seeping through the bone. His closed eyes ached and his stomach squeezed. He broke into a sweat; he could feel it beading on his upper lip and forehead, the back of his neck, and the palms of his hands. Inhale, exhale.
The scan proceeded at an achingly slow pace. The vibrations of the machine were nauseating him almost as much as the tight pulsing inside his skull, but the heat eventually dissipated and he cracked opened his eyes to see the scanner retracting. Rather than tilting, the room quivered at the edges as he lifted his head. The med droid laid a hand on his chest and said "just a moment."
"Was it there?" Rex gasped, grimacing as he wiped the sweat from his face.
"Yes. I have collected enough data to attempt its removal. But I must inform you, there is a high risk of complication."
Rex swallowed, focusing on the point in the corner where the ceiling met the walls. "Like what?"
"The brain is a very delicate organ. And you are not well. Brain damage is a possibility, and considering the location of this device, its removal could cause behavioral changes, sensory problems, or a severe chemical imbalance of some kind. It is difficult to predict."
Rex shuddered and dried his shaky palms on his tunic. The thought of waking up as essentially a different person was terrifying. That this was also the reality he faced someday if the chip was not removed was a cruel irony.
"Alright," he finally said, propping himself up on his good elbow. "Droid… you say you keep your word. Why don't we make a deal?"
"You are not in any position to bargain with me, human," said TL-89, still at its post by the door.
"No." Rex contained the rush of hatred by taking another deep breath. "But if you're really going to go through with this… would you rather I cooperate willingly, or be fighting you every step of the way? If you promise me this one small favor, then I give you my word… I won't try to run. I just want the chip when the med droid is done with it. The one in my head."
"Why?" TL-89 elongated the word a bit.
"I want to find out if there's a way to disable it in other clones. Without surgery," Rex said quietly.
The droid just kept staring at him in that unreadable way, and Rex stared back, fighting his own sickening sense of humiliation. Begging for favors from a tactical droid. But if it saved even one life… it would be worth it.
"Please." As if asking nicely would count for anything. "It's… the reason I left the army."
The droid raised a hand in a careless gesture. "I will permit you to keep it, human. We have an agreement. You will serve as my escort indefinitely. You will not try to escape."
"Yes." Indefinitely. Rex reminded himself that a tactical droid was a tactical droid, and if it turned out he had to break his word later, so be it.
"We will see if you honor your agreements. Proceed with the extractions."
"I hope you both know what you are doing," said the med droid as it hooked Rex's right arm into the IV.
Rex wondered if General Skywalker ever felt like this when he came up with his crazy plans. Sometimes it was a matter of Jedi instinct, surely, but sometimes there was simply no sane option short of giving up. And Rex had come too far to give up now, even if it meant going against his instincts and making himself even more vulnerable in enemy space. As unlikely as his survival had been, he had to take every opportunity to keep moving forward. If nothing else, he would reach the end knowing he had tried.
"I'm going to put you under now," said the med droid. Rex closed his eyes.
…
"Is he awake?"
Rex's heart pounded in his ears. Tactical droid. Tactical droid. He felt something hooked into his arm and reached for it—a metal hand blocked him, closing around his wrist.
"Gen—Skywalker—no—" he gasped, lurching up to claw at the hand before remembering that General Skywalker wasn't here, and never would be. His free hand was useless, half-numb. Rex's eyes were so heavy, he thought for a moment he'd been blindfolded until a crack of light seeped through. No, not blindfolded. He'd been drugged.
The hospital room. He remembered. The panic ebbed and left him weak. He nearly fell back onto the bed.
"It is alright," said the med droid. "You are safe." It turned its head. "I told you your voice might induce this response."
"How long before he is returned to normal efficiency?" asked TL-89. Rex stared at its six eyes until they became only two. He blinked sluggishly, crawling further into consciousness.
"There is very little I can predict with such limited information." The med droid waved a small handheld scanner very slowly over the right side of Rex's head. "It does appear that his brain activity has increased slightly in the affected area. I see no indication of internal bleeding… he does not appear to be in any physical danger." The droid held up a thin panel in which a small fleshy mass was encased; a moment later it was in Rex's right hand.
Rex examined the chip, each heartbeat still pounding painfully into his skull. The thing didn't look like a chip at all. It looked like a warped patch of skin. "This is the chip?" he half-whispered.
"It is a fascinating piece of hardware. Kaminoan make, I assume?"
"Yeah…." Rex turned his head left and right, squinting, fighting the overwhelming heaviness. It felt like gravity had increased, but that wasn't it exactly. "Am I still sedated?"
"The anesthesia has almost finished wearing off. You should feel normal soon."
"I don't feel normal," Rex mumbled heavily, rubbing the back of his fist against his forehead. Everything felt… off. It was hard to place it, exactly. Somewhat like his dehydration headache. Maybe that's all it was, although it wasn't quite like any headache he'd ever had before. It felt like someone was touching his head. He pocketed the chip and reached up to brush a hand over his hair only to realize he had been shaved.
"Please describe your symptoms."
"I feel…." Rex couldn't think of any good words. "It's probably just a headache… maybe I can feel the tissues in my brain being repaired…."
"That seems unlikely to me, although if you are feeling emotionally altered, I must remind you that I did warn you that could be an effect."
"Emotionally?" Rex murmured to himself. "Maybe…. Probably just … the drugs and starvation talking…." He laughed weakly under his breath and got up off the bed, before realizing his arm was still hooked into the IV.
The droid carefully removed it and laid a tiny patch over the IV puncture.
"Thanks," Rex sighed. "Guess we'll find out in a few days if any of this is permanent."
"Your brain seems to be adjusting quite well to the surgery," said the droid, waving the scanner again. "It is already forming new pathways to make up for the loss of the chip. Additionally, I have destroyed the identification chip, so you needn't worry about that."
"You will adjust quickly, human," said the droid, prodding his chest aggressively with a metal finger. "Or I may be forced to abandon you on an isolated planet after all."
"I'll do my best, droid," Rex growled back unsteadily.
"If you like, I can keep you here under observation," said the med droid. "For a few days… and guide you in physical therapy for your shoulder."
"Oh." Rex straightened, rolling his injured shoulder. "It doesn't hurt as much… must be the anesthesia."
"Your shoulder was severely inflamed. I brought down the swelling and gave you a muscle relaxant. It should be easier to do the necessary exercises now."
Rex extended and recoiled his arm several times. It burned, but it was manageable.
"Very good," said the droid. "I assume you were given instructions on the next stage of therapy as well?"
"Increase reps ten per week until the third week, then go to fifty each exercise three times a day, then move on to resistance exercises. I've got it memorized up to full recovery."
"We will not stay," said TL-89. "Our presence here should not be prolonged." He pointed at the med droid. "You will erase all record of it."
"Ah. Well, then. I will give your human a small prescription to keep the swelling down. Excuse me."
Rex stepped aside to let the med droid leave the room.
"I hope I will not regret ordering this procedure," said TL-89, when the door closed.
"I'll be fine," Rex said firmly, against the vague uneasiness that was seeping into his skin. "But my shoulder will need time to heal."
"Understood. I do not require your physical capabilities to be completely recovered. It is enough for you to appear to be a normal, respectable human."
"Well, if that's what you want, you might want to think about finding me a razor," Rex said, rubbing his jaw with the edge of his fist. The awful scratchy texture worked as a distraction from the nagging feeling of disorientation.
"I will consider your request."
"I could use a shower and a fresh change of clothes," Rex added.
"The ship is equipped with hygienic facilities."
"What exactly am I being respectable for? You know I'll never pass as a part of the Separatist military. They would know a clone when they see one."
"The high level commanding officers would know," the droid agreed. "But we do not need to fool them."
Rex folded his arms, thinking. The most likely use for a Republic clone would be as a spy or saboteur within the GAR. He could make that work to his advantage, if a way to shut down the chip on a broad scale were manufactured by then.
"Who exactly are we fooling?"
"I will not give you any more information than you require at any given time. That is the most efficient and secure approach."
"Well… you have a point, there," Rex admitted under his breath. "But I can't go back to Republic space. Not as myself, anyway. And you wouldn't be welcome there."
The tactical droid remained silent as Rex tried to work it all out. The droid had said nothing about Rex legitimizing its presence in Republic space. So whatever it was planning was in Separatist space.
Rex moved away from the droid and paced around the room, needing to keep moving. He looked at the chip again, resting in his palm.
"You plan to lead a mass revolt of your kind," said TL-89. Rex couldn't tell if it was a statement or a question.
"No. I was bred to serve the Republic," Rex said quietly. "And I don't intend to betray it. But I do want my brothers to have a choice about what orders they follow."
"You contradict yourself. There is no place for you in the Republic but as slaves."
"We're not slaves!" Rex protested. "Not to the Republic... or the Jedi. We fight for them because of what they are defending."
"You are delusional."
"It's a waste of time trying to explain anything to you," Rex said, sighing. "You're a Separatist droid, so of course you think the Republic is corrupt."
The door opened and the med droid walked in with a flat palm-sized box of pills. "I hate to send you away so soon, but I don't think TL-Eighty-Nine has ever been a very patient droid. And it will be easier for me to erase your presence here the sooner you are gone. Here you are."
It held out the pills to Rex, who took them and put them in his pocket, realizing again how completely he was putting his trust in a droid who worked for the enemy. But it was easier with medical droids—they were programmed to help people.
"Thanks," Rex sighed, and found he really meant it. He hesitated. "Listen… do you know of anyone I can contact who might engineer a virus that would disable this?" He gestured toward the droid with the chip. "Without causing any harm to the clones who have it?"
"Hmm. That is quite the undertaking. It would probably require extensive study of both your immune system and the capabilities of the chip. Such research is not my specialty. Since the chip is organic, any such virus would likely have to be modified off an existing one which naturally targets that area of the brain, and it would be difficult to genetically reprogram it to avoid damaging the brain itself."
"But there has to be someone who can do it, right?" Rex insisted in a low voice. "Don't you know anyone?"
"Unfortunately, I do not have many contacts. And none who specialize in genetic manipulation. Perhaps TL-Eighty-Nine will take you to Raxus. I would not be surprised if he could find someone there."
Rex's mouth twisted at the thought of asking, but he glanced at the tactical droid anyway.
"Come, human. It is time for us to leave. We will discuss this in a more secure location."
The droid flapped its wedge fingers in a beckoning gesture, and Rex stood rooted to the spot with angry humiliation for a moment before turning one last look on the medical droid.
"Thank you," he said again, surprised at how reluctant he was to leave this one purely helpful being. "I'll… take good care of my shoulder."
"That's right." The med droid patted him on the arm, and handed him his discarded poncho. "I hope to see you in full health if we ever meet again. Although… considering our separate functions, such a scenario is unlikely."
"Right…." Rex pulled the poncho on and turned to walk past the droid and out the door. Again the grip closed on his right arm. "Ugh…." The feeling came over him again, of complete disorientation, an undertone of terror, and gratitude, and devotion. Now was not the time to wrestle with all of this.
The tactical droid shook him slightly. "Cease."
And just like that, the emotion left him, replaced by annoyance. He blinked and they were inside the empty lift.
"I will procure a suitable meal for you," the droid was saying. "You will also select whatever hygienic items and clothing you require."
Rex kept his left hand curled around the chip and the pill case in his pocket. It still trembled whenever he moved it. He thought of the look in Echo's eyes the last time they'd spoken, the despair he'd seen at the thought of going back to the Kaminoan scientists. If Echo could face that alone, then Rex could kowtow to a droid for a little while.
"And then what?" Rex finally asked.
At that moment, the lift doors opened and some civilians walked in. The tactical droid ignored their startled glances and said simply, "We keep moving." Rex could almost hear the silent human the droid left hanging at the end.
…