Republic Commando: Phi Squad

by RC-5280

The CLONE WARS rage across the Galaxy. Chancellor Palpatine relies on his clone soldiers to defeat the SEPARATISTS, among them the elite clone commandos of PHI SQUAD. Follow Ajax, Buckler, Ka'rta, Ca'ad, and the rest of the GAR in their desperate attempts to stay alive and defeat the droid army!

8. Part 7

Part Seven: The Battle Continues

"Order 66 was the single most terrifying moment of my life. I had promised the squad I was going to desert, but hunting Jedi would take top priority for us commandos if we stayed in. I was very conflicted, not knowing whether I should follow my orders or keep my word. Both were incredibly important to me. Still are."

Ajax, reminiscing on the sudden end of the Clone War in Ka'rta's audio journal

Six months later, 1,183 Days ABG, Kyrimorut, Mandalore

"Did you say Delta Squad?" Ajax asked the comlink in his hand. On the other end was Niner and Darman.

"That's right," replied Niner's voice. "Tracker went to them as a replacement for Sev. There's still no news on him, by the way."

Ajax heaved a deep sigh. Then his mind turned to a more pragmatic question. "What's the Empire using you commandos for?" he wondered. "It's not like there's a war on, so no need for spec ops."

"We're hunting Jedi and deserters. I found your name on the list, along with everyone else at Kyrimorut."

Ajax smiled ruefully. "Well, we all have our enemies, don't we?"

"Yes, we do," Niner answered. "I got to go. Squad's back. Talk to you later."

"K'oyacyi," Ajax said. It was a uniquely Mando way of saying "goodbye." It literally meant "keep yourself alive."

The comlink fizzled out. Ajax sighed deeply, not really knowing what the future would have in store. All he knew right then was that he could use a really strong cup of caf. He didn't know why he was so tired all of a sudden. Then it struck him. Boredom. The word perfectly described the way he felt. No more sudden missions from the top. No more endless hordes of clankers. No more hunting enemies of the state. No more thrill of the hunt, of combat. There was nothing to do now. The others might have been doting on little Kad, but Ajax had never felt a paternal instinct. He had no idea what "love" meant.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He loved his brothers deeply. That's why he could often be seen drawing designs for Kal's clone memorial.

Ajax thought to himself, I should probably go out there and re-measure the footprint. He started walking towards the front door of the Clan veh'yaim, their home in the middle of the northern Mandalorian forest. The trees were quite relaxing just to sit and stare at. Ajax let himself smile slightly, knowing their position was defensible.

Kal was standing next to the square he'd outlined in the mud months earlier. Ajax walked over to him.

"I think I've figured out a design that will maximize surface area for numbers and tallies, minimize materials needed, and give the memorial a sacred feel," Ajax reported.

"Let's see," said Kal. He was eager to start building, but not before they had a fitting design.

Ajax pulled a folded sheet of flimsi from his belt. He'd never liked designing on a hologram. It was too intangible. Using a pen and flimsi was much more reliable.

Since arriving at Kyrimorut six months prior, Ajax had forged some beskar'gam for himself. So had the other two. He wore Ca'ad's helmet from the Death Watch mission, forever making his brother a part of himself. The rest of his armor kept some blue and grey colors, but added the sergeant's signature stripes of purple.

Kal took the flimsi, unfolding the blueprint. "This is simply beautiful, Aj'ika."

Ajax blushed slightly at the affectionate name. "Thank you, Kal'buir."

"I should start sourcing the permacrete."

The clone was taken aback. "Really? You think this is the one?"

Kal smiled. "I know it is, ad'ika."

Ajax's smile soon faded. "Can we wait on building it until we get Tracker back? I want him to be a part of this."

Kal placed his hand on Ajax's shoulder. "Don't worry. He'll be back here before you know it."

"And Mij will take that thing out of his head?" Ajax wondered, talking about Mij Gilamar, the Kyrimorut doctor.

"I know he will. He did it for Corr, didn't he? Tracker will be the man you served with in less than a month."

Ajax was shocked by the certainty of the timeframe. "We're doing this in a month?"

"Actually," Kal answered, "I was thinking sometime this week."

Ka'rta and Buckler couldn't believe their ears.

"This week?" blurted Ka'rta. "Do we have the intel or disguises?"

Ordo answered the question by walking into the karyai, the large living room, carrying two sets of stormtrooper armor, one in each hand. "There are four more in Aay'han. Niner transmitted us some floor plans of the new Arca yesterday."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Buckler said. "It seems like we should just leave well enough alone."

"He's our brother," reminded Ka'rta.

"So was Ca'ad," Buckler pointed out. "Did we go back and retrieve his body?" He took the following silence as the no he knew was coming.

"Death Watch would have killed anyone we sent after Ca'ad," Ajax explained. "We couldn't have saved the body. The helmet was the most we could do." He held up the grey-and-blue helmet Buckler had taken from the body. "Mando'ade draar digu, Buck." Mandalorians never forget. In this case, it meant Ca'ad would be remembered.

That remark seemed to ease the tension in the room.

"I'm sorry," Buckler said. "I didn't mean to lash out like that."

"I understand," Ka'rta consoled. "We haven't been in combat for a while. It wears on the nerves."

"So does being in combat," Ordo remarked. He had just returned with two more sets of the stormtrooper armor. "Are you going to try these on or not?"

"Sorry, Cap," Ajax said jokingly, with a salute. "Didn't realize we were supposed to suit up."

Ordo glared at the once-sergeant. "I'm not a captain anymore. Kal'buir is the only authority around here." He left to grab the final two suits of armor.

"I wonder who the other three are," commented Ka'rta.

Wolffe, Rex, and Gregor walked into the room, almost as if they had heard the question to answer it. All three were still wearing their GAR-issue armor. If they were staying at Kyrimorut, they could wear that armor openly. Anywhere else, and it would put a target on their back. The helmets and armor had been retired, in favor of stormtrooper helmets, which you couldn't see out of, and lighter armor, made of thin plasteel. Supposedly, the new armor could disperse blasts better than the old, leaving the wearer injured but alive.

"Who are we going to retrieve?" asked Rex.

"An old friend," said Ajax.

"Your squadmate?"

Ajax nodded. "Ordo wants us to get used to the armor and blasters. Go ahead and start getting it put on. We'll be wearing it a while."

Gregor spoke up. "This can't be better than our Katarn kit." He put on the helmet. "How do we activate the HUD? You can't see anything out of these tiny lenses."

Ordo was dragging in the last two suits. "Mereel and I already tried to get the HUDs to turn on. We couldn't. You'll have to make do with the decreased FOV."

"Great," Rex said, sarcastically. "This armor really is junk."

"Supposedly," Wolffe replied, "when it works properly, this stuff is top-of-the line." He looked down the scope of his BlasTech E-11 blaster rifle. "On the other hand, the blaster looks cheap and mass-produced."

Rex was stretching every way he could to try and get the feel of the new armor. "I would say the same thing about this junking armor."

"At least it's light," Buckler commented before putting on the last piece of his armor, the helmet. "Where'd you find the blaster, Wolffe?"

"Try the holster on your belt," Wolffe replied.

"Oh." Buckler pulled out the blaster and inspected it through his helmet's polarized lenses. "Thanks."

Ka'rta was fussing with the lower leg plates. They wouldn't seem to fit right. "Where's the shooting range?" he wondered.

"Over by the meshgeroya pitch," Ordo answered. "If you'd follow me."

The six clones quickly holstered their weapons and those still helmetless quickly remedied the error. Rex bumped his head on the not-fully-open door as he passed out into the forest surrounding the bastion.

"I hate this armor already," the ex-501st captain declared. His last mission as a clone had been to Mandalore, fighting Darth Maul and the Shadow Collective. He hadn't yet adjusted to being surrounded by figures wearing the same armor as his so-recent enemies.

Gregor laughed. "Captain, I thought you'd never say it." Some people took a real refuge in sarcasm.

Rex echoed the recent words of Ordo. "I'm no longer a captain. Besides, you were a captain, too, during the war."

"You're right about that, sir."

Wolffe cut in with an admonishing remark. "Gregor, you know Rex doesn't like it when you call him by his rank and treat him like a superior."

"Who's up for some meshgeroya after target practice?" Ka'rta asked, to change the subject and break the tension.

"What's meshgeroya?" Rex wondered. "I've never heard of it."

Ajax replied with a short-winded explanation. "Meshgeroya. It means 'the beautiful game.' The rules are simple: Get the ball into the goal by any means necessary. Two teams, two goals, one objective."

"Well, when you put it like that," Rex said, "it kinda sounds like war."

Buckler laughed. "Exactly. Why else would the Mandalorians call limmie the 'beautiful game?'"

That remark made all six clones roar with laughter. They soon arrived at the makeshift shooting range. It was a line in the mud flanked by several inactive battle droids, standing fifty meters in the distance. Bralor stood there, waiting.

"I didn't think the Empire knew about us yet," the old sergeant commented, slyly.

"They don't," replied Ajax. "It's just us, the strike team."

"You look convincing, ad'ike." Bralor probably would have ruffled Ajax's hair, but the helmet was staying on, it seemed. "So, you can draw your blasters now."

The six complied, almost immediately. They were almost eager to try out the new kit.

"Fire at will," Bralor ordered.

The six clones fired the first volley in near-perfect unison. All of them missed the inactive droid marks in the distance.

Gregor cursed. "Can't aim the stupid thing properly. Is the sight supposed to tie in with the HUD or something?"

"It must," Ajax remarked. "Can't get the scope pressed up to the faceplate. You'd think the people over at Imperial Weapons Research would make the helmet geometry compatible with the rifle stock."

Ka'rta seemed to have a different idea. "You can see the scope a lot better if you use the folding stock." He took a second shot, hitting his mark. "It works just fine."

The other five started fumbling around with the blasters, eventually finding the stock in its folded position underneath the barrel.

Wolffe was trying to aim his blaster when it suddenly fired. He cried out in frustration. "Blasted trigger doesn't have enough resistance. I'm surprised we have any control over firing. These things are absolute osik compared to our old Deeces."

Buckler snorted as he took another shot, finally seeming to get a handle on the quirks of the E-11. "And you didn't even have the deluxe model."

Ajax smirked, both because of Buckler's comment and because he'd just hit the target for the first time. "I loved that 17m. Best blaster I ever used."

"How about the only blaster you ever used?" Rex joked.

"Actually, Procurement got us some pretty sleazy kit for our mission on Mandalore," Ajax replied.

The six spent several hours getting used to the E-11, before splitting into teams for meshgeroya. Logically, they split into Phi Squad and the "regs." The brutal game lasted until dinnertime, and resulted in surprisingly few injuries. Vicious play was expected in meshgeroya, but Mando'ade had a way of minimizing injuries. Or stormtrooper armor was just that good. By the end of the day, the strike team was surprisingly used to the new armor. Maybe it wasn't as bad as Rex thought. He thumped his head again on the way back into the veh'yaim.

"Shab!" Rex swore. "Can't see the top of the door out of these blasted lenses."

His misfortune made the others duck as they walked through, for the second time that day. They were all exactly 1.83 meters tall, as Jango Fett had been.

As the six filed in, other people were coming in to get to the table for dinner. They got a few blank stares, accompanied by hushed whispers. People thought Kyrimorut had been discovered by the Empire. The disguises might work after all.

Clan Skirata sat down to dinner, six of them wearing armor none of them hoped to see on Mandalore ever again. The women of Kyrimorut were preparing dinner in the kitchen. At the sight of stormtroopers, Ordo's wife Besany screamed and nearly dropped the salad bowl. She hastily placed it on the table, then retreated back into the kitchen.

"It's okay, ad'ika," Kal reassured Besany, calling into the adjacent room. "It's just Phi and our friends Rex, Wolffe, and Gregor." He gestured for the six to take off their helmets. "I think those disguises are going to work beautifully."

"I agree," stated Ajax. "As long as the tallies haven't been deactivated, that is."

"Helmet comm would be pretty nice, too," Buckler commented.

"Sorry about that," Ordo apologized. "They put in some pretty foolproof safeguards. Internal systems are all inactive."

"Blast it," swore Buckler. "Can we jury-rig something?"

"Maybe," Ordo said, helping himself to a plate of salad. "But you'll only be able to communicate with each other, and you won't be able to tell if an Imperial is raising you."

Buckler pitched his own idea. "I can rig something that'll hack us into any Imperial frequency."

"We should look into fixing the onboard systems," Mereel suggested.

Wolffe chuckled. "The HUD would be nice. Can't aim the blaster properly without it."

The other five members of the strike team murmured in agreement.

Mereel smiled. "I like a challenge. By this time tomorrow, you'll either be jury-rigging a comm system or getting used to a new HUD layout."

Besany walked back into the room with the last platter, setting it on the table to be passed around.

Kal rubbed his hands together in anticipation and declared, "Haili cetare!" Fill your boots!

Plates and silverware clattered together, and the clan chatted the evening away, seated together at their absurdly long dinner table.

0900 Hours, 1,190 Days ABG, Kyrimorut, Mandalore

The strike team had spent a week getting used to their new armor. Mereel hadn't been able to recover the HUD or internal comm systems. They had to jury-rig a comlink inside the helmet, which would allow Kyrimorut to call them and would allow the clones to talk to each other without being monitored and overheard by the Empire, unless Buckler hacked into their comm network.

It was finally D-day. Aay'han was undergoing final checks, and the six were strapping on their armor for what was hopefully the final time. They would stop on Alderaan, where their old friend Bail Organa was waiting with a commandeered Imperial Lambda-class shuttle.

Ordo called from the cockpit with a report. "All systems nominal. Ready to leave when you are."

Ajax slipped on his helmet. "Let's do this."

The boarding ramp closed behind them, making the ship shudder slightly. It was very final-sounding.

"I hope they can't track us back to Mandalore," Ka'rta admitted.

"They won't," promised Ordo. "I won't be picking you up from Coruscant. You'll steal the shuttle again, then fly it back to Alderaan. I'll meet you there. The Empire may be waiting, so you might have to act like you love the hegemon."

"Great," replied Rex. "Is there anything else we should know?"

"If I think of anything, I know your comlink frequency," Ordo grinned.

"That's a relief," commented Ajax. "Just don't come to us halfway through with a grocery list."

Ordo chuckled. "Nah. We have all we need from Keldabe. Well, I take that back. How about a meiloorun fruit?"

Ajax laughed in response. "That's a good joke, Ordo."

"It wasn't a joke."

"Oh, are you shabla kidding me? A meiloorun on Coruscant?"

"Yes." Ordo erupted with laughter. "I really had you going there, didn't I?"

Ka'rta joined in with the laughing. "And I never knew you to tell a joke to save your life."

"Every once in a while, ner vod." My brother. The squad had really gotten close to everyone at Kyrimorut, even Ordo. It showed, in the affectionate way in which they had started to treat each other. Ordo was joking. That was enough of an indicator in itself.

Aay'han shuddered slightly as it jumped into hyperspace. Ajax hadn't even felt the vessel leave the ground.

"What's our ETA?" Rex wondered.

Ajax laughed wryly. "They didn't have you calculating travel times to Triple Zero since you were a wee cadet?"

Rex chuckled. "They never gave me pilot training."

"It'll be about two hours," replied Ordo, no-nonsense tone once again obvious in his voice. "One hour to Alderaan, and another to Trip Zip."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Buckler said. "Tracker isn't our brother anymore. Why are we going back?"

"Because we need to," Ajax said simply, staring blankly at the blue and white streaks through the viewport. "He might not act like the man we know, but he is our brother. We just have to free him from the prison those gihaale created in his mind." Fish-meal. Ajax's feelings about Kaminoans had gotten steadily worse, it seemed. Maybe it was being reminded of their arrogance and superior attitude by Hali Ke on Onderon.

"We'll come back," Ka'rta reassured him. "All of us." Maybe none of us. Maybe I'll die. Would I sacrifice myself for the safe escape of my squad? Am I ready to die?

It was a question on all of their minds. Even Rex's and Wolffe's. Now that they knew what civilian life was like, none of the six took death as a given anymore.

"We might not come back," Gregor commented.

"Whatever the case, we're getting Tracker out," Ajax says. "And if one of us gets killed, we keep moving. Understood?"

Everyone in the room nodded.

Buckler was a little slower to react, still having reservations about the mission. Some part of him knew, though, that Tracker was still in there, locked somewhere inside IC-9726. The mission wouldn't be a complete failure, as long as they could get him back to Kyrimorut. As long as Mij Gilamar didn't mess up with the surgery.

"I hope Jusik helps with the healing, using his Force tricks like he did with Fi," Ka'rta announced. When their ex-Jedi General had left the Order, he'd gone to Kal. Who knew a Jedi could make such a good Mandalorian?

"With everyone in Clan Skirata helping," Ajax mused, "Tracker'll be back to himself in no time."

"Assuming we get him out of there," Rex mumbled. "If we all get killed on this mission…"

"Why did you volunteer for this mission, Rex?" wondered Ajax. It was a question he'd been wanting to ask for ages. "This isn't personal for the three of you. Also, I don't like that kind of talk. We might not come back, but that's always something we have to worry about."

"Sorry, sir," Rex said, accepting Ajax's authority on the mission. "I guess I volunteered because it was the closest I'd get to combat anytime soon. I don't like hiding."

His two companions nodded and murmured in agreement. So did Buckler.

"Neither do I," Ajax said after a long silence in the room. He noticed the recycled air was beginning to get a bit stuffy.

The remaining half hour to Alderaan was spent in various phases of preparation. The commandos were cleaning their blasters, the officers were planning the mission, and it seemed like things would go off without a hitch.

The first thing to go wrong happened right as the team landed on Alderaan. Aay'han landed, on Senator Organa's private landing platform, to be greeted by none other than a squad of stormtroopers. Ajax observed their welcoming party from the viewport.

"I count one squad, eight men," the ex-sergeant announced. "This isn't good. They're probably here to perform a routine contraband check. Make sure we're not carrying any Jedi."

"This ship can't be blacklisted," Ordo said. "I have a Trade Federation transponder code."

"Maybe they know Nemoidians don't fly Mon Calamari vessels," Ajax suggested. "Form up, everyone. We don't want them discovering we're not the real deal. Don't look so relaxed."

Right as the six got into a convincing formation, a loud banging was heard on the back hatch, accompanied by a muted "Open up."

Ordo opened the hatch, revealing the six clones to the Imperial squad. "Good luck," the ARC trooper said over their private comlink. "You're going to need it."

"What's your operating number?" asked the stormtrooper with the red pauldron. He was the commander of this squad.

Phi and the other three descended the ramp, marching perfectly synchronized. They stepped off the ramp, and Ordo promptly closed the hatch.

Buckler had worked his magic behind the scenes, and somehow got past the Imperial comlink encryption without anyone noticing he'd linked into the stormtroopers' comm. He must have programmed some kind of hacking algorithm.

Ajax swiftly replied, to help maintain the illusion. "We're squad LC-365, sir." He hoped he'd read his armor tally right. Not having a HUD to read it off of might have been a problem.

The commander scanned his tally, confirming what Ajax had said. "Proceed," he commanded simply.

The armor the strike team was wearing was armor from a unit that was attached to the Imperial Security Bureau. The ISB was allowed clearance to any Imperial installation, anytime. Without questions. Usually when they showed up at your office, you could expect an arrest for treason.

Ajax and the rest proceeded through Aldera until they found the shuttle promised by Senator Organa. Ka'rta sat in the pilot's chair, and began hotwiring the vessel.

"I hope they don't have security safeguards," the medic announced. "We're going to have a hell of a time if I can't get this ship running."

Luckily, he was quickly able to bypass the weak security of the vessel's computer. If they could just make it to Coruscant, they'd be in the clear. ISB access was extremely useful.

"I don't think this op would be working without this armor's ISB clearance," Buckler noted. "I could get used to 'no questions asked.'"

Their shuttle took off soon after that remark, and they were on their way to Coruscant.

Ajax took a moment of remembrance. It was fitting in the pre-mission tension. "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Ca'ad." It was the traditional daily Mando remembrance rite for those who had died. I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Then the names of those no longer with the living were recited.

"Mando'ad draar digu," said Ka'rta in response as he jumped to hyperspace. It wasn't exactly traditional, but it fit. A Mandalorian never forgets.

Buckler decided to respond. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." Not gone, merely marching far away.

Several long moments of silence, of aay'han, followed. The perfect, bittersweet mix of grief and joy. It was a somber trip to the planet they once called home.

A feminine voice came through the ship's comlink. "Transmit your transponder code and operating number immediately."

Ka'rta pressed a few buttons on his console, giving Command the data they wanted.

"I hope to Manda'yaim this works," Ka'rta admitted.

"I'm ready for a fight," Buckler commented, loosening his extra pack of grenades. "In case it doesn't." He, to say nothing of the others, was having some misgivings about going into the heart of the Empire. Since Order 66, their home had ceased to be Coruscant, and was now Mandalore. For years to come, that final day of the Clone Wars would be the darkest day of all. But the war had ended so abruptly that none of the six felt it was really over. In their minds, they were still fighting.

"Blast," Ka'rta swore. "I can see two TIEs inbound. I don't think our codes checked out this time."

The female traffic controller's voice came back through the comlink. "Welcome to Coruscant, Squad LC-365. We hope your inspection goes well."

The TIE fighters took up formation two hundred meters away from the Lambda-class shuttle, at Ka'rta's two o'clock and his ten o'clock.

"Phew," the pilot said, relieved. "The TIEs are our escort. They still think we're VIP-status ISB agents."

"This mission is going much smoother than I ever expected it to," remarked Ajax. "ISB really gets luxury treatment."

The shuttle landed at Arca Company Barracks, as planned. It looked the same as ever, with the exception of a stormtrooper guard on either side of the main entrance and red Imperial banners hanging everywhere.

The six-man squad debarked from the shuttle, and proceeded to the door. They flashed their ID badges, and the guards let them through without hesitation.

Ajax hoped it would all be downhill from here. "Ordo, we're in."

"Good," replied their commander on the other side of the comlink. "I trust you know where to find Tracker?"

"Down the hall to quarters 1711, right?"

"Correct."

"Let's go, squad."

Five figures, wearing armor that belonged to the ISB, moved to follow Ajax. Wolffe and Rex may have held higher ranks during the war, but Ajax had the lead on this mission. After all, it was Ajax's brother they were after. Rex and Wolffe didn't know what it was like to lose a squadmate. They'd lost brothers, like every other clone, but not ones they were very close to.

"If we can grab Darman and Niner," Buckler suggested, "we should."

"To say nothing of the rest of Delta," Ka'rta added. "If they want to go, we should give them the opportunity."

"Shut it," Ajax advised. "Patrol incoming. Buck, access their comms."

A squad of commandos was walking down the hallway towards the team, different from the other stormtroopers because of their armor. It looked similar to the old Katarn kit, except it was colored a far darker shade of charcoal grey.

Buckler quickly hacked into their comms, by tapping a button on his belt. He had written a script that allowed him to decrypt any Imperial communications frequency without anything more than a simple tap of the button.

The dialogue of the squad they were passing was uninteresting to say the least.

"Look sharp. ISB," one of the commandos said.

"They don't look that tough to me," another said. The newly cloned units all seemed to have identical voices, Ka'rta noted.

"Regulation 9.2623," Ajax snapped. "Keep the public comm channel clear." He hoped that Imperial regulations were no different from the old Republic rules, or their cover had been blown. In other terms, Ajax hoped that these units didn't know the Big Book by heart.

The commando in front, whose voice hadn't been heard, finally spoke, adding a salute to his statement. "I apologize for the conduct of my squad, sir. It won't happen again." He was apparently the sergeant.

Ajax nodded authoritatively. "See that it doesn't. Dismissed." The ex-sergeant returned the salute and led his "inspection team" on their way.

Buckler disconnected from the Imperial comm. "You've still got the leader's authority, boss," he said, impressed.

"Thanks, Buck," Ajax laughed. "I haven't been that long out of practice with giving orders."

Ka'rta laughed. "That's for sure. You've been ordering us all around back on Mandalore."

Ajax glared at him. "We have a job to do here, eighty."

"Right, boss," the medic said, quite apologetically.

The six proceeded to their target: Quarters 1711. They passed several other commando squads, but didn't stop to chat. They were, after all, just an ISB inspection team. And what they'd seen so far wasn't particularly impressive. Some latent comm chatter, a few games of Dejarik and Sabacc, but nothing earth-shatteringly different from Arca Barracks before the New Order. All except for the 501st guards and the uniformity of everyone's armor. Rex in particular found it disturbing.

"I don't like how boringly standard everything is," the once-501st captain commented. "This isn't the 501st I remember."

"You got that right," replied Wolffe wistfully. "The whole army seems to have changed overnight."

"Quiet," Ajax snapped. "Let's just get this mission over with."

The six fell into silence, an old habit from the thick of battle. This time, though, there weren't blaster bolts whizzing past their ears, but they were deep into enemy territory.

"Ordo, I've got a sitrep," reported Ajax. "We've made it to the quarters and are ready to enter and get what we came for. Please advise."

The ARC's voice crackled slightly due to the distance of the transmission. "Go ahead, Ajax. Be advised, though, that there's a reason they call the 501st 'Vader's fist.' He's there at Arca right now."

"Great," Ajax breathed. "Just what we needed."

"Isn't Vader the one we were commanded by back at the Temple during Order 66?" Ka'rta wondered. "General Skywalker?"

"Yes," Ajax confirmed. "I hear he's in a life-support suit now."

Rex snorted. "General Skywalker? He died during Order 66. I don't care if the Sith called Vader is made of the same cells. Anakin has to be dead."

"Zey got his brains shot out by Maze," Buckler recalled after a few moments of awkward silence. "What a way to go."

Gregor stared hard at the hallway in front of him. "I think General Kenobi fell to his death. I don't remember when Cody got the order, though. I must have been elsewhere."

Wolffe felt it proper to share his Order 66 story. "I was on Cato Nemoidia when it happened. General Koon was commanding the fighter assault. Poor sod. When I heard the Chancellor's order come through, I knew it was high time to desert."

The six were approaching Delta's quarters when storytime ended. Ajax promptly snapped back into no-nonsense mode.

"We're here," the leader announced. "Be ready to carry out an inspection."

"Aye," the other five replied in quick unison, proceeding to form up behind Ajax. Buckler hacked into the squad comms.

Ajax tapped the door control and announced, "Inspection. Get up off your bunks and stand away from the door."

Delta Squad didn't need to be told twice. They immediately complied with the order.

Phi Squad and Rex stepped in, leaving Gregor and Wolffe to guard the door. They began casually moving things around, as Imperial inspections could be quite aggressive.

Scorch figeted as Buckler rooted around his explosives cache. "Be careful! Those are very delicate."

Buckler smiled underneath his helmet. "And also very against regulations. I'll have to confiscate them." He was just looking for an excuse to gather more ordinance.

Scorch made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. He didn't like the development.

Ajax walked towards Boss, thinking it was high time to reveal their "true" purpose, carefully crafted to fit the archetype of an ISB inspection. "We're here for IC-9726," he declared. "You're under arrest for treason." Just not treason against the state.

1230 Hours, 1,191 Days ABG, Arca Company Barracks, Coruscant

Tracker took the charge without so much as a flinch. He really wasn't the man who had served with Phi Squad. The old Tracker would have been questioning the charge and seeking the counsel of his sergeant. This Tracker was ready to go to prison without so much as a peep in protest, as long as it served the Empire.

Ka'rta took the binders from his belt and slapped them on his squadmate's wrists, hauling the compliant soldier away.

Ajax turned to Boss. "Now that we have that taken care of, I'm Ajax, that's Buckler, and that's Ka'rta."

Boss staggered back in shock. "Ajax? Have you come to take us back to Kyrimorut?"

"Only if you want to," came the ex-sergeant's measured reply. "We came mostly for Tracker."

Scorch looked scornful. "At least you could come back for him."

Buckler patted him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you understand, ner vod."

Scorch turned away. He didn't want to talk about it.

Fixer spoke up. "We're perfectly fine here. Take your squaddie home, and be grateful that you can."

"Thank you," Ajax smiled, turning on his heel to exit. "Come on, squad. We've got a mission to complete."

Buckler and Rex turned to follow their squad leader, not ready for what would come next.

Tracker was thrashing in Ka'rta's grip, yelling about something. "You lied to me! You're deserters, all of you! I'm not the one who should be punished like this! You're the real traitors here!"

Ka'rta was having a hard time controlling the other. "Remember the promise we made before the end of the war? The promise to desert?"

Tracker continued thrashing, driving his captor close enough to a wall panel that he could sound the alarm. Needless to say, the next few moments were filled with sheer terror for the squad.

Klaxons blared throughout the hall. The lights dimmed to red, and blast doors began to block the exits.

"Fierfek." None of the squad knew who had said the curse, and none of them cared. They needed to move if they were going to get out of there.

"Get through that blast door, on the double," Ajax commanded. "I'll cover you."

First, Ka'rta wrangled Tracker through the closing door, then the rest followed. The door clanged shut just behind them, but in front of Ajax. The sound had been very final.

Buckler started trying to slice through the blast door security to open it. "It's no good," he declared. "The panel's been fried."

"Ajax, what are you trying to do?" wondered Ka'rta, frantic. Why would he lock the door shut? What's on the other side?

"He must be doing what I did on Abafar for that… D-squad," Gregor mumbled softly. "He's buying us time. We have to move!"

"Gregor's right," Ajax replied. "I won't tell you again. Go. Just go."

"But…" Ka'rta faltered. He loosened his grip on Tracker, just enough to let the sniper escape.

Wolffe picked up his blaster, quickly set it to stun, and fired at Tracker. The commando stopped struggling.

"Let's make sure we don't have to stun him again," Wolffe advised. "Don't let your grip loosen."

"Agreed," Buckler said, slinging his stunned comrade over his shoulder. "You heard the boss. Move it," he said, mustering none of the commanding tone he'd hoped to.

"We can't just leave him!" Ka'rta shouted. "He's our sergeant!"

"Well, then, as your sergeant," Ajax replied, "I'm ordering you to leave. I can only buy you so much time." He had committed to the sacrifice, and there was no turning back now.

Rex grabbed Ka'rta's arm and practically dragged the commando out of the corridor. There was a reason they had brought Rex and his comrades along. They would feel less attached, and would have clearer heads because of it.

Buckler was sprinting towards the facility's exit, and the landing pad beyond, Tracker still slung over his shoulder. The rest were running behind him, trying to not get blocked behind one of the closing blast doors. They were conveniently closing one at a time, and not all at once. The ISB should get on that, Buckler thought. This is too easy.

A horrible yell, in a voice that could only be Ajax's, came through the comlink. Their sergeant had been killed. Ka'rta felt a somewhat familiar heaving in his chest, the same as he'd felt that day on Carlac. But now was not the time to grieve.

Soon enough, the five clones and the incapacitated Tracker were almost out of the building. If not for Ajax's sacrifice, they wouldn't be even close to the landing pad.

Their trials weren't over yet, though. A squad of stormtroopers blocked their exit, blasters ready.

Ka'rta, Gregor, Wolffe, and Rex all drew their E-11 blasters simultaneously, and let the blaster fire rip. Anger over Ajax's apparent death fueled the trigger pull for all of them, even Rex and Wolffe.

The squad blocking the exit door fell in quick succession, none able to get a shot off. Their training had made them hesitate at the sight of friendly stormtrooper armor. They weren't so brainwashed after all.

The infiltration squad made their way to their shuttle quickly after that, ready to leave Arca for the last time. They bounded up the boarding ramp, blaster fire once again whizzing by their ears.

Ka'rta moved to the pilot's seat and hastily started the engines so they could extract. As TIE fighters closed in, he made the hyperspace calculations, hoping the shields would hold under the barrage. The navicomputer was soon prepped for their jump, and Ka'rta began to navigate out of the gravity well.

A Star Destroyer appeared in the shuttle's path, turbolasers charged. This next maneuver would require a lot of skill. Flying out of range of the cannons on a Star Destroyer meant you had to go in close. Needless to say, that was a hard task.

Ka'rta took his vessel as close to the Star Destroyer's hull as he could, making sure the innumerable turbolasers wouldn't get a lock. He flew across the longest dimension of the fearsome vessel, that being the fastest way to get out of the gravity well. The moment he was free and clear, he activated the hyperdrive, sinking down into his seat out of relief. Now Ka'rta had some time to properly grieve with the rest of his squad, once again including Tracker.

Five minutes earlier, on the other side of the blast door

Ajax glanced back to see if there was anything that could kill him before he crawled through the hole, which was now barely large enough for him to fit through. Sure enough, he spotted a black-clad figure, wearing a mask resembling a blackened skull, cape flowing behind him. The rhythmic sound of the figure's mechanized breathing menaced Ajax from ten meters away.

The figure ignited a red lightsaber blade, threatening Ajax implicitly and explicitly revealing his identity as Darth Vader. After a few threatening moments, he spoke, "Now we will finish what we started six months ago." The Sith would wait a while for a response.

Ajax knew what he had to do. He turned his blaster towards the door control panel, and fired once. He didn't want his squad to rescue him, not when he could still buy them time.

Buckler had apparently started trying to slice through the blast door security to open it. "It's no good," he declared. "The panel's been fried."

"Ajax, what are you trying to do?" wondered Ka'rta, frantic.

Hurry up and leave, Ajax thought. I have to buy you the time to make an escape.

"What I did on Abafar for that… D-squad," Gregor mumbled softly. Ajax could hear it clearly over the helmet comm. "He's buying us time. We have to move!"

"Gregor's right," Ajax replied. "I won't tell you again. Go. Just go." I have to do this. They need me to.

"But…" Ka'rta faltered.

A few moments passed before Buckler broke the silence. "You heard the boss. Move it," he said, a command that didn't convince even Ajax.

"We can't just leave him!" Ka'rta shouted. "He's our sergeant!"

"Well, then, as your sergeant," Ajax replied, "I'm ordering you to leave. I can only buy you so much time." There could be no turning back now. Ajax turned to face his attacker, and fired at the oncoming black figure as if he could actually kill the Sith. It was the response Vader had waited for. Come and get me, you stinking di'kut. I'll either kill you or get killed.

Vader deflected his every blast, always the master of Form IV. As he did so, the Sith drew closer to Ajax.

So much for that idea.

"How noble," Vader's deep voice sneered. "Sacrificing yourself for the squad. Very Jedi-like."

Ajax threw aside his helmet, raising his blaster once more. This was Ajax's private conversation to have.

"I'm not a Jedi," Ajax replied. "You were a Jedi once."

The Sith was taken aback by the audacity of the statement. This truth angered him.

"Anakin Skywalker is... dead," Vader declared, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that. "I killed him that day in the Jedi Temple."

He's not so sure of himself after all.

Ajax glared. "I'm not afraid," he returned. "Of you or my impending death." What am I saying? Of course I'm afraid. I'm afraid they won't make it out of here, or that Tracker won't get back to himself, or… or that he won't forgive me for dying.

"You would do well to be afraid," sneered the Sith. "Courage does not mean absence of fear." How far Anakin Skywalker had fallen.

My name is Ajax. RC-3608. I am afraid, but not of death. So long as the others escape and continue to fight the Emipre's evil, my sacrifice will not be made in vain. "Live to fight another day," Ajax whispered aloud. "Live to resist the Empire." The sergeant knelt before the superior power before him, not frightened of death, but of what the future held for those he knew.

At this gesture, Vader raised his saber, ready for a downward slash. He looked at the bare head of his prey; Ajax's helmet still laid on the floor.

"Any last words?" Vader taunted.

Ajax looked his executioner in the lenses and smiled. "What good execution is complete without them?" I always get the last word. No matter the situation.

"With every person you kill, you lose another part of yourself. I lost so much of myself during the war, I barely know who I am." The smile had faded from Ajax's lips, replaced by a slight frown and punctuated by a downward nod of submission.

Vader looked the clone straight in the eye, listening to the statement. It only ignited a fire in his eyes, hidden by his skull-shaped helmet. He let the blade down, to score through Ajax's chest. Surprisingly, the flesh offered no resistance to the sword.

The intense heat of the blade as it struck Ajax made him cry out in pain, a loud, grueling death scream that could surely be heard through several bulkheads. His helmet, a few meters away, picked up the sound and transmitted the scream to the others.

The last thing Ajax noticed was the sharp smell of ozone produced by the plasma blade. The smell was vaguely like the air on Kamino when lightning struck the parade grounds.

He was almost surprised by the quickness with which death took him. And then… nothing. No more thoughts, no more smells, no more sounds, no more feeling. Just nothing. Nothing at all. Everything had faded in less than an instant.

Vader looked on as his victim's body sank to the floor, in one of the longest moments of the Sith's life. What little good was left in him soon realized the truth of Ajax's last words. That truth was quickly buried again by the Dark Side.

Out in the next hallway, the others were busy escaping. But all five who were conscious heard the death yell come over the comm. It fueled a kind of animal rage, the knowledge that a "good man" like Ajax was dead. Their anger would last until they were out of danger, and free to grieve. Anger would return months later, but in a different form. That anger would be less intense, more healing, a natural part of the grieving process.

Ka'rta successfully navigated quickly out of the Coruscant gravity well under pressure, a feat he'd likely never repeat. For much of the rest of his artificially shortened life, he'd feel overwhelming grief for both Ajax and Ca'ad. From time to time, the depression would become debilitating.

As he sank back into his chair after jumping to hyperspace, hot tears began to fall down his face, covered by the helmet. His sobs could be heard over the helmet comm. It had been painful to lose Ca'ad all those years ago, but losing Ajax was much, much harder. Ca'ad had been separated, both physically and emotionally. Ajax had been a sergeant and a friend since before the war. Ka'rta and Buckler had always seen him as a shoulder to cry on. It was always hard to lose that. They still had each other, though. They'd have Tracker, too, once he was back to himself.

Buckler strode into the cockpit where Ka'rta was sitting. He intended to console his friend, with little success. He just couldn't find the right words. Buckler still hadn't even totally come to terms with Ca'ad's passing. His hand was firmly clasped on the sniper's tally. Buckler found the talisman quite soothing, especially now.

Sometimes, all you needed was for someone to be there. It was all Ka'rta needed right then.

After a few long, sorrowful moments, the pilot finally said, "I can't believe he's gone."

"Neither can I," Buckler admitted. He held up the tally and examined it for several moments. "Ca'ad always seemed to keep to himself. Ajax was always right there with us, laughing along."

Ka'rta nodded, tears returning to his eyes. "It just isn't fair. We shouldn't have to lose Ajax just to be with Tracker again."

Buckler grasped his brother's opposite shoulder and pulled the other close in a kind of half-hug. "I know. Still, it makes you wonder… if he could possibly be alive here with us."

Ka'rta heaved an especially heavy sob. "I've already replayed it in my mind. There must have been something we could have done."

"We tried," Buckler said. "But he didn't want us to."

This made Ka'rta break even more into tears, knowing that Ajax had wanted to die. It didn't feel like a heroic sacrifice just then. It felt like a needless loss.

Buckler continued to hug his brother, knowing it was the best he could do. A gesture to show him there were still people there for him, even if Ajax was gone.

Ka'rta threw himself into the arms of his friend and took the proffered shoulder to cry on. The embrace would last until they returned the shuttle to Alderaan.

"Thank you," said Bail Organa. "This shuttle has been missing for several days. You have my gratitude for returning it." He dropped several credit chips into Rex's hand, enough to buy an old AT-TE from a junkyard.

Rex took the credits, and pocketed them, almost as though he was a mercenary. He would later find a small holochip in the stack, with a message for him. An entreaty to join the Rebel Alliance. Years later, a Jedi—no, an old friend—would finally recruit him.

"Anything to serve the Empire," Rex lied. He was still wearing his stormtrooper disguise, and needed to keep up the theatrics. You never knew who was watching.

Behind him, Ka'rta and Buckler were doing their best to keep Tracker under control. They were also trying not to display their pain. All in the name of keeping up appearances.

On the outskirts of town, Ordo was waiting in Aay'han to take the six back to Mandalore.

Rex led the others onto the ship, having taken command from Ajax. He was the only one who stepped up.

"All here and accounted for," the captain reported. "Except Ajax," he muttered, mostly to appease Ka'rta and Buckler.

"I'm sorry to hear about that," said Ordo, his tough exterior seeming to crack a little. "But we need to get back to Kyrimorut so Mij can do surgery on Tracker."

"Then take off," Rex suggested. "We're all here."

Aay'han lifted off the ground, and left for Mandalore, never to return to Alderaan. The journey was a long one, filled with sorrow and regret.

Tracker was still oblivious to everything that had happened before Order 66. "Why?" the sniper asked. "Why would you kidnap me under false pretenses? Why did you charge me with treason?"

Ka'rta looked up at his restrained squadmate. "We did it because you're our friend, because you promised to come away with us. You promised to leave the army."

"We're stormtroopers. We're not allowed to desert. We don't have friends. That's to save us the pain of loss. Why do you call me your friend?"

"You don't remember anything, do you? About the Clone Wars?" Ka'rta wondered, mortified.

Tracker appeared to be deep in thought. "I remember… the march on the Jedi Temple. My squad deserted me. I hate them," he said, struggling against his restraints. "I should have seen it earlier. They were traitors!" He didn't appear to recognize Ka'rta, even as the man who had betrayed him.

Ka'rta stood back in horror, and went to join the others in the cockpit. This Tracker was definitely not the man he knew. I hope taking that chip out of his head returns him to normal.

Aay'han landed, home once again on Mandalore. Buckler and Ka'rta helped guide Tracker to the house, and the makeshift medbay inside. Mij Gilamar was already waiting, hypospray of general anesthetic in his hand. As Tracker was forced down onto the operating table, Mij took the hypo to the clone's neck and injected him with the anesthesia. Tracker fell unconscious.

"You'll probably want to leave for this part," the surgeon advised. "It could get messy."

Buckler nodded and grabbed Ka'rta to exit the room. The medic shook his brother off to get one last long glance at Tracker. Then he turned and exited the room, hoping for the best.

It was an hour before Mij came back out of the operating room, microscope slide in his hand. Encased in the slide was an inhibitor chip.

"He might be a little messed up for a week or so, but with a little help from Jusik, I think we'll be seeing a full recovery," the surgeon announced. "He's resting, if you want to see him."

Ka'rta and Buckler immediately rushed into the room, hoping to see Tracker as they remembered him. Their friend lay sleeping on the operating table, looking as peaceful as ever. There was one difference, though, apart from the bandage on his temple. He would always have a scar right there.

The sniper was now bald. The hair had been shaved off so Mij could find the chip and take it out. He looked almost like Buckler this way.

Ka'rta placed his hand on Tracker's, hoping that it would make everything okay. Buckler did the same on the opposite side.

"If only Ajax were here," Ka'rta commented, sadly.

Jusik walked into the room, looking good in beskar'gam. He was ready to perform a miracle with the help of the Force.

Ka'rta looked up at the once-Jedi. "I didn't think you were going to start treatment this early."

"If you want your brother back when he wakes up, I have to do this," Jusik said simply.

"Okay," Buckler consented, getting up off his knees. Suddenly every bone in his body was aching for some rest. It had been a long, hard day. Even so, they'd succeeded with the mission. But that success had come at a steep price. It had cost Ajax's life. Buckler could never forget that. It made Tracker's return to health all the more bittersweet.

Ka'rta got up and followed his friend out. Now that Ajax was gone, it was all the more important that the two stay close. It was important that Tracker stay close, too. If he left, the void he'd filled for Ca'ad would certainly be exposed, worse than it had in the six months since the war ended.

As he laid down on the bed, Buckler realized part of his aches and pains was grief. The kind of grief that made you want to lie in bed all day and not even eat. The kind of grief that turned your gut upside down and made you cry out for the dead man. The kind of grief that wiped the smile off your face for years to come.

Buckler suddenly remembered something Jusik had mentioned on the shuttle off of Carlac, trying to heal them after Ca'ad's passing. Nothing really ever dies. The living Force resides within everything that lives and breathes. When something dies, its imprint is left upon the Cosmic Force. Your brother is part of something more than this galaxy we live in. Cherish this thought. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force.

Somehow, the thought that Ajax was still around, but locked in an irretrievable way, made Buckler feel even worse.

Ka'rta laid himself on the bunk next to Buckler and waited. For what, he didn't quite know. To fall asleep, to hear Ajax calling him into the briefing room—that thought gave him pause. The war was over and Ajax was dead.

Ajax.

Dead.

The two words rang through the medic's head several times before their meaning became wholly clear. He would never, for as long as he lived, hear his sergeant's smooth voice ever again. Ajax would never again chide him for making a joke at the wrong time. He would never again be able to seek comfort in that shoulder, one that had always been there.

Buckler's shoulder was there, too, Ka'rta supposed. And he will be there for you in years to come. You can't afford to lose another one.

The two drifted off into a fitful sleep, their dreams often linked in reliving the events of the last day.

Tracker woke, alone in a cold, dark room full of medical instruments. This can't be a Republic medbay. There'd be lights on and a medical droid standing over me. Where the shab could I be?

Tracker glanced down, looking at his armor. It wasn't the camouflage he seemed to remember. It looked like Katarn armor, but more charcoal grey than white. He tried to remember where he'd gotten it, or where he might be. Everything came back as a blur after the Medallion of Honor ceremony.

I'm definitely not at Arca, the sniper thought. He racked his brains for any shred of memory, and came up with a few things. We were going to desert. The war's over. I must be on Mandalore.

A shadow moved in the dimly lit room. Tracker's keen senses picked it up, causing him to pounce at the mouse that had cast the shadow.

"It's just an animal," he whispered to himself, taking comfort in the sound of his voice. "Nothing to worry about."

Something stirred in the opposite corner of the room. It was Jusik. The Jedi must have been woken by the new presence in the Force.

Tracker recognized him almost immediately, and soon remembered that Order 66 had been called. "Kill Jedi," the sniper whispered, rushing over to Jusik's exhausted form and attempting to strangle him.

Jusik had drained himself almost completely trying to restore Tracker's personality the day previous. He couldn't rely on the Force to help him in this fight. Luckily, Kal'buir had insisted that he learn to fight with his hands, without help from the "Jedi crutch," as he called it. The choke hold was swiftly turned, and Jusik was ready to deliver the final blow in self-defense. Then he realized who it was he was holding and released his grip.

"This isn't you," the Jedi said, trying to project feelings of calm into Tracker's mind with the Force. "You don't have to comply with Order 66."

Jusik had restored Tracker's personality, but hadn't wiped the clone's memory. He still remembered everything. Even his merciless slaughter of Jedi and civilians on assignment for the Empire.

The animal look of uncontrolled rage faded from Tracker's eyes, replaced with one of infinite pain and sorrow.

"What have I done?" the sniper wondered, staring at his hands as though they were covered in the blood of unfortunate Jedi. He sank back down to a slouch on the operating table he had slept on. "All those innocent Jedi I killed on Alderaan. Padawans and younglings. What other kinds of atrocities have I committed in the name of the Empire?"

"You didn't do any of those things, Tracker," Jusik replied. "That was all IC-9726 and the inhibitor chip. You aren't responsible for anything you did since Order 66."

Tracker snorted, a trick of disgust he'd learned from Buckler. Tears were trickling down his face as memories seemed to clear from the fog. "That's easy for you to say. You aren't the one with the blood of a hundred innocents, including Jedi, on your hands. They used Order 37 to draw out the Jedi in that town. We were told to kill innocent civilians so our real prey would draw themselves out of the shadows."

"You were following orders. You had no choice."

"I enjoyed it," the sniper replied simply. "Even gunning down those unarmed civilians felt powerful and...and good. I took joy out of the deaths of others."

"You were being controlled." Jusik seriously considered asking if the clone wanted his mind rubbed and his memory erased. He decided not to ask.

"I don't think I can go on like this," Tracker sobbed. "It was better when everything was just a fog." Most of his memory since Order 66 was still at least a bit foggy, and always would be. The mental fog was a result of the inhibitor's control.

"Why are you trying to take the blame for this?" Jusik wondered. "There must be a reason you can't accept that you were under the control of your chip."

Tracker was still sobbing heavily. "I betrayed my brothers. My own shabla squad. People I loved, and who loved me enough to bring me back here."

Jusik felt he should let Ka'rta and Buckler handle it from here. He raised them on the comm. "Phi, Jusik here. Tracker's awake now."

Ka'rta replied almost immediately. "We'll be there shortly."

Several long minutes later, Ka'rta and Buckler walked into the medbay. Tracker was sitting on the operating table again, looking shaken to the core. The sniper looked up and saw the two familiar faces, smiling weakly at the sight. There was just one thing wrong with what he saw.

"Where's—where's Ajax?" Tracker asked, not remembering his sergeant's fate. He had been stunned while it happened.

Ka'rta almost broke out into tears again, before saying, "Dead." His voice broke as he pronounced the word.

Tracker looked stunned. "Dead?" he wondered. "You're kidding."

"We heard his death scream," Buckler said. "He gave himself up to save you."

Tracker couldn't find the right words, stammering several times before giving up. Not even "fierfek" seemed to sum up his feelings. Ajax was dead because of him. Ajax was dead because he didn't desert at the end of the war. Ajax was dead because of the inhibitor chip. Tracker made a mental note that he wanted to destroy the thing as soon as he could get it from Mij. It had caused so much suffering, both his and others'.

Several more long moments were taken to let the sergeant's absence sink in. Tracker had indeed returned to himself, feeling rotten that Ajax had to die so he could make it back.

A few minutes later, Kal walked in on the moment of aay'han. It was a beautiful thing to witness, the melancholy moment of remembrance, grief, and joy. He took a folded piece of flimsi from his pocket. Ajax's design for the memorial. When he had drafted it, he'd never thought his name and number would be included on it.

"I've got the materials ready to build this," Kal said to break the silence. "Ajax wanted Tracker to be a part of it. I think it's time to build his memorial."

Ajax's memorial. Building something their dead sergeant created would function as a healing exercise.

No one jumped up immediately, but they all resolved individually to do it. If nothing else, it would give them a glimpse of Ajax for one last time. Eventually, Ka'rta slowly walked over to Kal and looked at the plans. He gasped in shock upon seeing the blueprints.

"It's—it's beautiful," the medic declared, piquing the others' interest. "Ajax drafted this?"

The signature in the corner confirmed that Ajax drew the blueprints.

Tracker and Buckler walked over, and had similar reactions to the design. It was, indeed, a visual achievement, even on flimsi. It would look even better in real life. Over the next month, the three would work diligently to do their sergeant's design and memory justice.

1145 Hours, 1,218 Days ABG, Kyrimorut, Mandalore

Rav Bralor stood at the base of the developing permacrete monolith, gazing at the monument her student, Ajax, had worked so hard to design. Right now, it was shaping up to be a four-meter-tall obelisk, with ornate carvings of some of the bloodiest battles of the Clone Wars at the base, which were carved out of marble. The reliefs included Geonosis, Drongar, Sarrish, and Umbara. All had been drawn by Ajax and carved by his squad. They trusted no one else to do the reliefs justice.

Bralor shifted in her belt pouch some armor tallies she'd been sent by her students over the years. She planned to put them in the memorial, before the permacrete dried. She walked over to Buckler, who was busy chipping out the figure of a geonosian in one of the reliefs.

"Is there a place I can put these?" she asked, showing Buckler the tallies.

Buckler reached up to feel the permacrete above the Geonosis relief. It felt just right to stick the tallies into.

"Push them in right here," the slicer answered. "Just give us enough space to identify them with an inscription."

Bralor tried to reach high enough, but couldn't. She began looking for a ladder. Soon, she spotted one, and grabbed it so she could complete her task. The tallies were in place shortly after.

Buckler finished carving his relief, and stood back to gaze at the scene. It looked hauntingly like the way he remembered the bunker explosion. Gunships flying in the background, far, far away; Acclamators flying far overhead, supervising the battle from on high; and the mountain of permacrete rubble, which had trapped Ka'rta. The way Ajax had drawn the scene reminded Buckler too much of the fear and anger of that day. He found it amazing how much could be expressed in four square meters of marble.

The slicer remembered his next job, fumbling around for something in his belt pouch. Then he found the small piece of plastoid he'd been carrying everywhere with him for nearly three years. It was finally time to let go of Ca'ad.

Buckler pulled himself up the ladder Bralor had brought over, and climbed up two meters, to the empty space above the mural. He pushed the plastoid into the permacrete gently, and with a flood of tears, finally released his brother Ca'ad. It had taken three years, but he finally had come to terms with his brother's death.

Next, in his most careful hand, Buckler labeled the so-familiar tally: RC-9726 "CA'AD."

The inscription seemed to give Buckler a kind of comfort in that Ca'ad would now be forever eternal, forever a part of those lost during the Clone War.

As he stepped down the ladder, Buckler saw the rest of the memorial was coming together, and Gregor couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the Sarrish relief. That had been the battle where the once-commando had lost his memory and crashed on Abafar. Ajax's artistic side had evoked emotions in Gregor much as it had in Buckler. All the bodies—they seemed to be everywhere—appeared nearly as Gregor remembered them. It was one of few memories he actually had from before dishwashing at Borkus's.

Kal had been right. This design was the one to be displayed for eternity.

The structure was almost complete. Now all it needed was the names and numbers of those commandos who had died. There wasn't enough space to memorialize all the millions of CTs who had been killed. Those numbers could live in front of the Republic Center for Military Operations on Coruscant. There was barely enough space for the nearly one hundred thousand RC numbers on the Kyrimorut memorial.

Engraving the names and putting in the few tallies they had took several days of work. When that was finished, Phi added some Mando'a wisdom to Ajax's original design, in some of the spaces they could find. Ideally, the words would add sacredness and make viewers realize the sacrifices of the soldiers. The four phrases were "Mando'ade draar digu," "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," "Te mandokarla," and "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni par'tayli, gar darasuum." "Mandalorians never forget," "Not gone, merely marching far away," "The ones with the 'right stuff,'" and the daily remembrance rite, after which names would be chanted.

The memorial was finally finished, and the three living members of Phi Squad had one final task: to sign their work. In the only space left, they wrote, "DESIGNED BY THE LATE RC-3608, THE BEST SERGEANT WE COULD HAVE ASKED FOR. CONSTRUCTED BY HIS OWN PHI SQUAD."

What came next, the dedication ceremony, was the most beautiful thing anyone there had ever experienced. All of Clan Skirata circled around the obelisk, to dedicate it to Ajax and the others who had died.

Ka'rta, now the leader of his squad, always the second-in-command, spoke on Ajax's behalf. As he stepped out of the crowd of figures clad in beskar'gam, he removed his flame-painted helmet and tucked it carefully under his arm.

The medic began his speech, tears already glistening in his eye. "I thank you all for gathering here today. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. My only wish is that Ajax could have seen the true beauty in what he designed. We must always remember him—and every one of the clones whose names and numbers are remembered on this memorial.

"Ajax would have loved to see his creation come to life. He would also have loved to see all of you here today. Especially you, Tracker."

The first tear struck the medic's cheek, and he paused to collect himself.

"My sergeant gave his life in a heroic sacrifice that allowed us to escape Arca Barracks and the Empire that day. During this ceremony, remember who you will, but if you have no one else to remember, think of Ajax. He was truly mandokarla. He had all the makings of a true Mando warrior.

"Let us join hands and sing Shi Taab'echaaj'la." At this point, his voice broke slightly, the tears streaming down his cheeks, hot and salty. Ajax wasn't here, to experience the beauty of his monument and the ceremony.

The chant was the most beautiful thing Ka'rta had ever heard. All one hundred voices, more than half of them clones', raised in song. It was truly magical and healing in a way Ka'rta had longed for since hearing the scream in that corridor.

"Kote, darasuum kote.

Kandosii sa ka'rta,

Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad.

Kote, darasuum kote.

Jorso'ran kando a tome.

Nu kyr'adyc,

Shi taab'echaaj'la.

Kote, gar darasuum.

Mando'ade draar digu,

Gar tome'tayl.

Ni su'cuyi,

Gar kyr'adyc,

Ni par'tayli,

Gar darasuum.

Acyk su'cuyir bal ash'amur,

Vi kar'tayli gar,

Nu kyr'am,

Su vode an."

Glory, eternal glory.

One indomitable heart,

forged like the saber in the fires of death.

Glory, eternal glory.

We shall bear its weight together.

Not gone,

Merely marching far away.

Glory, yours forever.

Mandalorians never forget,

[Least of all] Your memory.

I'm still alive,

But you are dead.

I remember you,

So you are eternal.

Between living and dying,

We remember you,

Not dead,

Still brothers all.

Manyof the clones who were at Kyrimorut had their own brothers to remember, and were weeping openly for their losses. Despite the sobbing, the vocal music's sweet harmony was purely beautiful.

Tracker, Buckler, and Ka'rta were sobbing heavily, Ajax's passing still too fresh. They didn't care what tomorrow held, nor did they know. Once again, the three knew loss, and they weren't invincible anymore. It was a terrible feeling, but their wounds would be healed with time. How much time, they didn't know.

Right then, the overwhelming beauty of the consecration was all that mattered. The past, the future, it was all irrelevant compared to the pure beauty of the music and the memorial. What tomorrow held was uncertain, and nobody was going to challenge it.

A/N: I want to thank all of you who've made it to the end, and I can only hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I have. I enjoy seeing that my work has reached so many people and that they have looked forward to each new chapter. To all of you, K'oyacyi.

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