Author's Note: So I kind of churned parts of this chapter out so I could publish it today because I didn't want to skip another week. There may not be a chapter next week... I don't know yet. Anyway. Not my best chapter so far but I'm working up to some fun stuff. I hope you like it anyway.
(On another note. I made a spreadsheet of all the characters that appear in this story (some of whom you haven't heard about yet.) There are more than a 100. I'm going to make you a nice helpful appendix chapter to use as a reference some time… yeah. Anyway. There's a new character in this chapter! She started out as just a name and now she's got her own side-plot, that is after all how this whole story came about.)
ALSO! I saw Episode VII. It was awesome! Worst thing about that movie was the lack of Mandalorians IMHO. (*tears*) If you haven't seen it, I won't spoil it and my story certainly won't spoil anything for quite a while. Anyway. Enjoy the new chapter. –Em.
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Chapter 11: Introductions
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Rex fought against the urge to pace while he waited. It would only aggravate his back injury more. The painful twinges and near constant ache had returned now that his supply of anisthetics was forcibly and suddenly cut off.
Damn Fox and his karking plan, Rex thought again. It definitely hadn't been his idea to get caught with his stolen medication and demoted again. He was a common Trooper once more. It didn't feel as bad as he thought it might. His back just hurt worse and there was nothing he could do about it.
It did land him back in Imperial City though. Fox had called in a favor with his C.O. to get Rex reassigned to the right place. Apparently Fox hadn't wasted the three years he spent on the periphery of the political world. He'd learned the value of knowledge and the delicate application of leverage. He could still learn a few things from Jaina Emala though.
The Shili Senator was what brought Rex to the uncomfortable place he was standing in the little down time he still had. Now that he was actually there he was regretting it. But he didn't leave.
It had been surprisingly easy to insert himself into the Senate Guard with a little knowledge of the system. There were so many more troops around the Senate Building since they stopped allowing personal guards past the entrance hall. It meant only the Senators and aids were allowed in the building. Senators were escorted everywhere by Stormtroopers. The ever-changing schedule and needs of the thousands of beings in the Senate made it a logistical nightmare full of weak points. With so many troopers around they became almost invisible. Rex easily bluffed his way into taking over as Jaina's morning escort to her podium.
With each passing second he felt more and more uneasy about seeing his former employer again. He hadn't seen her since he was in Shili-Kai, since the end of the war. He hardly remembered who he'd been before that day. Something he'd said to Fox got him thinking about that. Like Coric, Order 66 had changed him. He no longer trusted his own memories. If he understood Fives correctly, he couldn't trust the memories of his brothers either. That left him with a short list of people who could tell him what really happened and who he really was.
What do you hope she's going to tell you? Part of him wondered. She can't tell you anything you don't already know. You know what happened. She can't tell you why you feel torn up about it if you don't even know.
Still Rex stayed where he was, standing at attention on the speeder platform. His stomach flip-flopped when the sleek speeder with the Emala Clan Crest decal broke out of the regular traffic and descended toward him. It landed softly.
Jaina stepped out, looking thin and tired. Despite it, she held her head and graceful montrals high. She hadn't lost the regal dignity and grace that set her apart. Rex was comforted when he recognized a number of the togruta in her guard. They were men he'd trained and worked with—people he could trust with her safety.
"Senator," he said, stepping forward and saluting her. Her guards glared at him with casual resentment as Jaina crossed the virtual no-mans-land of the speeder platform. Rex felt their eyes on his back until the doors of the Senate building closed behind him. For a minute he just walked down the empty halls under the grand arched ceiling.
"Ko'toya mayah, uula Jaina che'Mala," he greeted her in formal togruti. Her surprise was audible.
"Captain Rex?" She breathed the question, her footsteps faltering.
"You look tired, my lady," he said, keeping the volume of his helmet's external speakers down.
"I—I assumed… when the army terminated your lease…" she stuttered, the most ineloquent he had ever heard her.
"I survived, somehow."
"You are stationed here in the Senate Building?"
"No, but I needed to talk to you without drawing attention."
"You must be careful what you say; this place is monitored," she warned him darkly, her distain for the change in policy clear in her voice. He frowned. Such behavior bordered on treason coming from a Senator.
"I know," Rex said and turned his hand backward, opening it so she could see the portable comm-scrambler nestled in his palm. "So long as we're moving this will disrupt any bugs long enough to mask our voices."
"If you are caught with that, Captain…"
"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Rex cut her off and he saw her lips purse in annoyance in his 360 HUD. "I'm sorry, my Lady. I don't have a lot of time."
"I am more than willing to help you leave the Empire's service again," She said in a hushed whisper, sounding almost hopeful that he would accept.
"I…" for a moment he was speechless with a lump in his throat. It was a lot of risk for her to take on even offering to do that for him. A stab of guilt dispelled the warm feeling filling his chest. I betrayed her friend, he remembered. She doesn't know I shot Ahsoka.
"I couldn't ask that of you. I don't… You don't know what happened that night."
"You mean the last day of the war, when we visited Shili-Kai together? No. Only that you were with Captain Tano—with Ahsoka when she went missing? Have you heard from her? Do you know where she is?" Jaina's calm façade cracked a little when she asked after her young friend. It was one of the few times Rex remembered how young the Senator really was. She wasn't much older than Ahsoka would have been. They had the same petite form and large eyes, but Jaina's were amber-red not blue. Rex could never imagine lifting a blaster against Jaina but thinking of Ahsoka his hand strayed closer to his belt holster.
"Ahsoka Tano was a wanted fugitive and traitor. She was killed almost a year ago during a rescue attempt on another Jedi captive." Rex told Jaina.
"How can that be? Ahsoka wasn't a Jedi anymore—they abandoned her! You know that! She was innocent of their treason—of all of it!"
"I just obey orders, my lady," he answered robotically, "I don't question them."
"There was a time when you did, Captain. What has changed?" She asked, and when he didn't respond, she went on. "The man that I knew would not have been able to say something like that without some kind of emotion. He had a sense of justice that was not force-fed by any politician or leader. What changed that man into someone who accepts such violations of law and due process?"
"I don't know. I don't recognize that person you remember, Jaina," he responded, unable to keep the waver of fear out of his voice.
"Captain… Rex… Have you forgotten the day you joined my guard?" She asked.
He did remember, but the memory was thin and nebulous like a dream. Events in that hazy memory didn't follow clear cause and effect laws. It was like watching a hollo-vid. He didn't know what the characters were thinking. He could only hear their voices and see their actions.
"You told me that Ahsoka was different from the other Officers, because she cared about the men as men, not just beings or objects. She knew them as people and she knew you as a friend. Did you lie when you told me how you felt for her? You said…"
"I remember," he cut her off again; he was afraid to hear aloud what else she might say.
"Was it all a lie?" Jaina asked, her voice shaking with anger and the pain of betrayal. They were walking up to her doorway and the end of their conversation. Rex turned to look into Jaina's wide, glistening eyes. Her expression, caught between wrenching pain, confusion, and blinding anger was identical to Ahsoka's the last time he had seen her.
This time he felt his chest constrict and his throat tighten with mirrored pain. Wasn't that how he should have felt when Ahsoka looked at him that way. But he hadn't. He didn't remember feeing anything but the sharp pain of her heel connecting with the side of his head and then blackness.
"I don't know," Rex answered the Senator honestly. "Ko'wahn kai, che'han." Thank you for the meeting (Goodbye), my lady. He didn't wait for her to respond or for the tears to break free of her eyes. He turned and walked away, his chest still tight and his heart heavy.
Thank you, he thought to her silently as he made his way to the back exits the staff used. Thank you, for remembering. It hadn't all been a dream and his memories were different—something had changed on Shili. He should have felt something. He knew that for sure now. Somehow knowing that he was crazy was comforting. He no longer had to question if his thinking was rational because he knew now that it wasn't. If it happened to him then it could have happened to Coric. If that was related to what Fives had tried to tell him and the inexplicable change in Etain, Rex needed to know. Somehow ORSA was at the center of it all, and Jaina's confirmation of his fears just made Rex more determined to find out what it was. It was about more than protecting Kyrimorut now; it was about finding the truth and finding himself.
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The rain fell in thin curtains on the muddy, Mandalorian town of Pariya but didn't seem to have any dampening effect on the boisterous business. The town was built on a flat shelf of rock protruding from an old rounded mountain of softer stone. The sheer drop on one side of the town provided a perfect wharf for freighters of all sorts. The street running parallel to the vertical drop was loud with conversations shouted over the ever-present thrum of engines and repulsor drives. Everywhere armored people of indeterminate race and species worked and haggled. Three men armored in red, amber, and deep purple respectively didn't turn any heads, even with the impressive weapons they carried.
"You have to give it to Ny," Mereel said, his tone light and joking over the helmet comms, "she has guts. It takes a lot to stand up to Kal'buir when he makes up his mind."
"She still shouldn't have left." A'den walked slightly ahead of his brothers, pushing the pace. She shouldn't have left alone. She knows I would help her, whatever it was. Why didn't she ask? Those same thoughts had been running through his head since he heard she was gone. Ny hadn't talked much about the kind of business her husband did before they were married, but she didn't need to. Ny knew how to fly under the radar, what questions to ask, and when to back off to avoid suspicion. Those honed instincts didn't come from lawful work as a simple freighter pilot.
"More likely than not, bringing her back won't solve anything," Prudii said.
"You could have stayed home," Mereel told him.
"A'den needs backup in case you get distracted."
"Distracted by what?" Mereel asked with mock hurt.
"There it is," A'den cut off their banter. He was looking across the wharf at a small freighter painted with green livery sitting half way into a hanger barely big enough for it. Mereel and Prudii pinged the transponder themselves to confirm it was the vessel they were looking for.
"I'll take up the ground position," Mereel said, one hand on the barrel of the compact rotary blaster on his back.
"I'll find a higher vantage, wait for my confirmation to approach," Prudii said, already ambling casually toward a back alley. Mereel clapped a hand on A'den's shoulders before sauntering toward a food cart selling spicy, fried fish in greasy, flimsy packages.
A'den leaned casually against a low wall separating the main pedestrian track from a private lot. A few minutes later Prudii gave him the all-clear sign and he moved in.
What little space in the hanger that wasn't filled by the ship was crowded with boxes and repulsor palettes. A rickety rusted staircase climbed the back wall to what A'den assumed were offices or living quarters. There were two back exists on either side of the far wall he noted and relayed the information to Prudii and Mereel.
As he rounded the ship he found the pilot bent over a repulsor palette. The palette was laden with heavy canisters and sitting solidly on the ground. There were tools spread out on the floor and half of the circuitry removed around the broken device.
"I'm looking for Gra'tua," A'den said, pausing just inside the hanger. The pilot looked up quickly at his question. She was a humanoid, probably a near human, and everything from her eyes to her skin to her scarred and battered beskar'gam was green. The overall effect was strangely disconcerting – like a monochrome holo image.
"Above your head," She said and jerked her chin at the ships stabilizer that was sheltering him from the rain. "Gra'tua is the ship. What can she do for you?"
"I'm looking for transport."
"She's not for sale," the woman replied and looked back at her broken repulsor palette with a grimace of frustration.
"I was told you could move around Empire space discretely."
"Who told you that?"
"Wad'e Tay'haai."
She looked up and her gaze lingered on his helmet visor.
"I can," she said as she went back to her work. "It's not cheep."
"Money won't be an issue. My problem is time, or I would organize it myself."
"I'm finishing up a job now. When and what are you transporting?"
"Myself and another passenger."
"Not that cheating chakaar."
"Tay'haai said you'd say that. It's just my father, Kal and I."
"I require half my fee upfront."
"I'll give you ten thousand when we leave and my brother will have another twenty when you return us." She fumbled her hydropsanner at the figure and it clattered on the floor. "But if we don't make it back, you shouldn't bother returning."
"I make an honest living, thanks all the same. I'll take the thirty thousand over a blood feud."
"Good to hear. When can you be ready?"
"I get back tomorrow. She stood up and whipped her hands with a greasy rag tucked into her belt. A'den noted a tarnished silver starburst on her abdomen plate where it had blocked a projectile of some kind. It must have been high velocity to leave a dent like that in beskar. He wondered why she hadn't gotten it fixed or replaced. "Throw in an extra grand and I can be back before dawn."
"Could three get you back by midnight?" He asked.
"Done." She gave him a not-quite-friendly smile and held out her hand. He stepped up to grasp her forearm in a mandalorian handshake. Her return grip left grease smudges on his orange-gold gauntlets. "Where am I taking you?"
"Kuat first. After that, it depends."
"I'll clean out my conservator before I leave," she said but A'den got the feeling she wasn't the kind of woman to keep a stocked kitchen anyway. Her line of work didn't accommodate it.
"I'll be back at midnight with my father and your money."
"I'll be here," she said and turned away to glare at the broken machine. "If I can ever get these damn crates loaded," she muttered under her breath and kicked the broken lift with enough force to dent the metal case with her boot. A'den was half turned to leave when he heard her and paused.
"Can I give you a hand?" He asked, looking over the four canisters loaded on the platform.
"What's it going to cost me?" She responded with ambiguously genuine suspicion.
"Free of charge, promise," A'den took off his helmet, clipping it to his belt, and flashed her his best imitation of Mereel's disarming smile.
"You can fix a repulsor lift?" She asked skeptically and crossed her arms.
"Sure," he bent down by the lift, "but this is faster." He lifted two of the barrels easily on his shoulders and marched them up her loading ramp.
"Show off," he heard her mutter.
He laughed genuinely. "No, showing off would be fixing the palette, then carrying the cans anyway. I'm just being friendly." He lined them up with the others in her well-stocked cargo bay. She'd followed him up and leaned against the hydraulics of the ramp.
"I'm A'den by the way," he said, consciously trying to be more casual now that the serious business was done.
"Thanks for your help," she said and took a slightly deeper breath, nearly a sigh before she introduced herself. "I'm Vorpa."
Vorpan was mando'a for green.
"Nice to meet you." He said and started down the ramp for the second set of canisters.
"Wait, what?" She said in shock.
"What?" A'den turned around to her incredulous face.
"No joke? Come on, everyone has one," she said, her dark green eyebrows furrowed.
A'den frowned. He was accustomed to people who were named for their physical characteristics. "I have a brother named Scorch because he burned his eyebrows off once."
She stared at his dead serious face for a silent beat then burst into laughter. A'den watched befuddled, but he noted that her face was actually pretty when she smiled—less thin and stretched.
"I'd like to meet this brother of yours," she said when she caught her breath. "Is your name literal too?" He couldn't help but notice how her eyes flickered to Kal's Verpine rifle on his back; A'den in mando'a meant wrath.
"Not usually."
"That's good to hear. I've had one experience with a rifle like that. I don't need another," Vorpa motioned to the scar on her abdomen plate.
"Sounds like there's a story there," A'den tried to hold in his curiosity. He picked up the last of the canisters and started up the ramp.
"Yeah," Vorpa said casually, "someone tried to kill me."
"I've got lots of those stories," he said when he put down his load, grinning genuinely this time.
"I see they all have happy endings."
"Not for the other guys," A'den promised her.
"I'm sure. I'll remember to stay on your good side."
He frowned, suddenly serious again. "If my business remains between the two of us I don't think you should have a problem with that."
"Wad'e said I was discrete didn't he," she responded with a note of indignation.
"Then I doubt my rifle will see much action," A'den said adjusting the strap for emphasis. "I'll be back at midnight."
"Thanks for the help," she said with a nod. He waited for an awkward second, expecting her to smile again but she just looked at him. He opened his mouth to say something a second before he realized he had nothing to say. Quickly he shut it and turned away. He hurried to put his helmet back on before stepping out into the steady rain. In the 360 view of his HUD, he saw her watching him leave, her arms crossed and her face twisted in a curiously pained expression. He wondered what she was thinking and what she thought of him, while at the same time he hoped she kept her word. He would be disappointed if he had to kill her.
"Green, ner vod?" Prudii asked over the com link.
"What's wrong with green?" Mereel answered a little too fast, "I knew this green twilek who could do this thing with her lekku that…"
"K'uur, stop. Save your fantasies for Atin, would you? At least he has a chance of actually getting the real thing."
"Vod'ika! I'm hurt. You think I would lie to you?" Mereel asked Prudii as he jogged up beside A'den with a greasy packet under one arm.
"Yes," A'den answered evenly for his brother. "That doesn't look like enough for all of us." He pointed at the package.
"I didn't know you wanted anything," Mereel replied with a grin in his voice.
"We outnumber you," Prudii said with mocking menace, coming up behind his brother and grabbing his shoulders suddenly. Mereel laughed and handed over the packet.
"Here. I already ate. It's all yours," he conceded.
Ny would be telling them off for ruining the dinner Laseema's preparing, A'den though. He wanted to join in with his brothers' jovial mood but he kept thinking of Ny's absence and new dangers she might be walking into at that second. I thought she was really happy here. Did I judge her wrong? Or is there some other reason she didn't take me with her? A'den frowned behind his helmet and walked on into the muddy town. Thinking those questions wasn't getting him anywhere. He'd have to ask Ny himself when he found her.
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"Hey! Clone! Over-here." Sergeant Toner called aloud. Rex sighed in the privacy of his bucket. Mongrel troopers—non-clones—didn't like to use helmet comms if they didn't have to. The system was unfamiliar to them. For men like Rex, it was second nature. He had been wearing a helmet since he was two years old. He'd probably spent more of his waking life in his bucket than out by now. At least as a Lieutenant running supplies around the shebs end of the galaxy he could correct them on the regs. Now he was a trooper, the lowest rank in the army, so he dealt with the incompetence of his C.O.s with muttered abuses and irritation in the privacy of his bucket. Rex stopped the repulsor cart he was driving and did as he was told.
Please let this be something trivial, he prayed to nothing in particular. (He had long ago given up thinking there was a god listening to him.) We're almost done. Just let me go back to sleep.
Toner and another mongrel trooper were standing beside a stalled cart. The diagnostic panel was open and flashing warnings across the small display. Rex felt all his hopes crumble into dust. Sleep was a long way off.
"The cart broke down. Fix it."
"Right away."
"That's 'right away, sir'" Toner corrected him. Rex clenched his jaw. Sergeants were NCOs. He wasn't obligated to call the etyc'tal aruetii anything.
"Right away, sir," he said through gritted teeth. Any brother would have heard the contempt in his voice, but the two mongrels didn't seem to. Rex bent down, ignoring the pain in his back, to look at the diagnostics.
"You over-loaded the inertial-inverters," Rex said, motioning to the large boxes stacked on the cart's bed.
"No, I didn't. The cart just broke," the mongrel trooper said defensively. "Just fix the karking thing so it doesn't break again, vat-boy."
They walked off, leaving Rex with the broken machine. He glared after them.
It took him a few hours to unload the broken cart and dismantle it enough to reach the broken pieces. Sure enough, the inertial-inverters were blackened and burned out. While he'd been working the rest of the squad had finished loading the transport speeder waiting to deliver it's cargo to the new destination where tomorrow they would unload it again. Rex was alone in the loading bay of the vacated office building.
He was searching the speeder for spare parts when he heard the opening doors and solid marching of boots coming into the loading bay. Rex turned his good ear toward the back of the speeder and picked up the higher pitched two tone clacking of high-healed shoes. There was a woman with the soldiers.
"Why aren't those boxes loaded?" A woman's voice asked. Rex sat up a little straighter at the sound. It struck a cord in his memory, but he couldn't place it.
"Looks like one of the carts broke down." A mongrel trooper answered her. "We need to keep moving, Dr. Orsa."
Rex could hardly believe his ears. He looked quickly to the rear-view mirror of the speeder. He was hidden from view behind the large boxes loaded inside, but he could see a small portion of the room in the reflection. White armored bodies marched in formation across the platform with a woman in the middle. Beside her white coat her skin looked very dark. She glanced back at the broken speeder, and, for a moment, Rex saw her face full on. Her eyes were two blue points that flashed at him.
The wrong blue, Rex thought, they're the wrong blue. A wave of déjà vu hit him suddenly.
"See that those crates are loaded," the woman said in her infuriatingly familiar voice. "Nothing can be left behind."
"Of course," the stormtrooper replied. They disappeared from the mirror, and their footsteps faded off toward the parked speeders on the far wall. Rex heard an engine whirr to life, and a minute later it speed off. The sound dwindled, leaving Rex alone again.
Dr. Orsa…Orsa… OhAreEsAye, Rex sat in the speeder for a long moment just turning the word over in his mind. Could it be a coincidence? He asked himself. Yes. But his gut feeling was telling him differently. Those gut feelings had saved his life far too many times to be disregarded. Rex looked at the sealed boxes all around him, clamped tightly shut with biometric locks. They didn't look any different from the other equipment and supplies that he had been moving for weeks all across the district.
Fox said that the drop off location changes, Rex remembered. That's why he got me this position! I'm moving the facility that he's delivering to. He looked around at the boxes that nearly buried him. This is ORSA. The answers to his questions could be just under his fingertips, separated from him by only a sheet of durasteel.
Then there was the woman. He could see her features clearly in his mind, even though he'd only caught her face for a second. Her voice and those blue eyes haunted Rex as he finished his work. He was in a half daze for the rest of the evening, scouring his memory. He barely thought about the ache in his back and, for once, that wasn't what kept him up into the early hours of morning. When he finally succumbed to sleep, the mysterious Dr. Orsa was the last thing he thought about.
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The drives of Bardan's Aggressor hummed softly through the frame of the ship. It was a sleek and quiet craft, suited for bounty hunting and little else. Though Mij had to admit, it was satisfying to pilot. But He hadn't asked Bardan to let him take the ship just so he could get behind the controls. With Etain's condition, Bardan was happy to let Mij take over as pilot. He didn't like to be too far away in case he was needed. Mij didn't want to leave his sole patient either, but at a certain point he had to face the fact: there wasn't much he could do for her.
He hoped that wasn't the case with his friend. Mij looked sidelong at his passenger.
"You sure this is a good idea, Kal?" he asked gently, trying to ease into the subject.
"Oh, I knew when you offered to pilot I'd be getting this lecture," Kal snarled.
"No lecture," Mij insisted, "I just want to be sure you know what you're doing."
"Well I don't," Kal snapped, "and I can't say I'm sure it's the right thing to do either" He flicked his three sided knife out of it's sheath and back nervously. "I just can't do nothing!" He finished emphatically.
"So if you do find Ny," Mij proposed, "what is it you're hoping this will accomplish? You can't count on finding her in some perilous predicament waiting for one of your heroic rescues."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You do have a habit of—"
"I pulled Vau out of a pinch once and that's a habit? Until that day, I despised the man."
"And Ny?" Mij knew for certain Kal far from despised her. She made him twice as irrational as he usually was according to Vau, and it wasn't often that Mij agreed with Walon Vau.
"Haar'chak, Mij!" Kal cussed. "I don't know, but I can't just sit around waiting for bad news. Can you honestly say in my place you wouldn't be out there scouring the galaxy for Uthan?"
"Qail's smarter than that," Mij deflected, "so I wouldn't be in your place."
"Right, you know better than to get involved with someone so foolhardy and karking stubborn."
"Well, I'm friends with you now aren't I?" He meant it only as a half joke.
"That's different, and you know what I mean!"
"No, I don't, unless your relationship with Ny has escaped that well-oiled rumor mill you keep up at Kyrimorut. What is your relationship with this woman you're dropping everything to chase through lawless space anyway?"
"I don't know, Mij," Kal groaned and added ruefully, "I was never good at this, if you hadn't noticed. I'm just not cut out for it."
"For what? Romance or commitment?"
"I know I'm no good at the second part. Just look at what happened with Ilippi."
"That was the old Kal. Anyone can see you've changed since then."
"Not that much! I'm still running off the women I care about."
"But you'll admit it," Mij pointed out. "That's a lot more than you did with Ilippi after the divorce."
"Yes, ok—rub salt in that wound too while you're at it, sadistic chakaar! I ran Ilippi off too. I'm man enough to admit it."
"And that's what makes you different from the old Kal," Mij replied evenly while Kal fumed on his side of the cockpit.
"That's not enough, Mij. It's just the way I am. Look at my daughter. It runs in our blood." Kal wondered for a moment if his biological father had been the same. What kind of relationship did he have with my mother? Were they happy? With a sharp throb of pain, Kal realized he would never know. All record of them was gone and his vague memories were clouded with a child's perception. If those parents had any answers for him, they were lost a long time ago.
"You can't blame yourself for what's happening between her and Cov. They've got bigger issues."
"Like what?" Kal's head shot up and he glared at Mij.
"Your daughter is very independent," Mij said with a shrug. "She's used to looking out for herself, all on her own. Cov's a Commando, part of a squad, a true pod. That boy has never truly been alone in his life. His brothers kept him alive through the war. He'll be hard pressed to put anyone over them."
"You think her relationship's doomed to fail then?"
"I couldn't say. But just because you take those boys away from the war, doesn't mean you can take the war out of them."
"What does that make us?" Kal asked with a heavy sigh.
"Acclimatized," Mij answered deadpan. "I'm just saying you can't forget that they will always see the world through a soldier's eyes. Ruu may be mandokar'la but she's never been a soldier."
That was true, even Kal had to admit it. Ruu had never gotten involved deep enough in the war before she was imprisoned. She hadn't seen it the way the clones had. It was hard for a civilian to understand what living like that did to a person, how it shifted their viewpoint around. Parja may not have fought the war but she's lived with soldiers all her life, Kal thought. Besany at least knows she doesn't understand, so she accepts Ordo for what he is. Laseema's no stranger to living under constant physical and mental abuse. Soldier or not, she probably understands Atin better than I do. Ny knew loss and grief but that wasn't the same…
"Are you saying Cov would be better off with a real Mando girl?" Kal asked, fixing his old friend with a hard glare. "Or that I would?"
"Those are two different things."
"No, you're right. I tried marrying an aruetii once. It didn't end well. Why should I think Ny would be any different?" Kal said, half-heartedly. He wanted Ny to be different.
"Ny isn't Ilippi. Marrying an outsider works out sometimes, I should know," Mij said pointedly and gave Kal a sidelong look. Kal nearly groaned at his own blunder.
"Sorry Mij'ika, sometimes I forget you weren't raised this way."
"I never do, Kal," Mij said gravely. Even after thirty years he still had moments where he felt like an outsider. He remembered first coming to Mandalore as an aruetii and the hard years that followed. Bardan was living the same thing even with all of his brothers to support him. Ruu, Jilka, and Ny were still at the beginning of that process, clinging to anything familiar in the strange new world they found themselves in. Ruu might have chosen to come with her father and Ny might have chosen to get involved, but that didn't mean they chose to adopt a whole new culture. Jilka certainly didn't choose to be framed for Besany's crime, kidnapped out of Republic Custody by Mandalorians, and spirited to the Outer Rim.
"We become Mandalorian for many reasons. I consciously chose to embrace this life," Mij reminded Kal.
"You had a damned good reason," Kal said, nodding in agreement.
"It's not that different from the reason that brought Ny to you," Mij pointed out. He may have married into Mandalorian culture but it wasn't until his wife died he really became Mandalorian. He sought out a Mandalorian Commando who could teach him how to get his revenge. "When I found Old Rex I was grieving and searching for answers just like Ny when she found A'den. There were more than a few times in those years I truly hated that ori'jagyc, and I tried to run away more than once. But I chose to come back. Ilippi didn't. Ny just might, all on her own."
"Assuming she's alive to make that choice," Kal grumbled darkly. He peered out the window at the dark countryside flashing by as the trees thinned out and the ground sloped up toward the town of Pariya.
"So you're just going to make sure she's alive?" Mij asked. "A'den could do that all on his own." He didn't really need to look over to see Kal's unease. They both knew the old widower was far too attached to Ny already than he should be.
"And if she doesn't want to come back, Kal?" Mij pressed further. "Could you just walk away?"
The lights of the port lit up the underbelly of the ship as they flew over Pariya. The mist covered valley beyond the vertical cliff bordering the town stretched out in front of them. A small blocky shape shilouetted by the glow of it's own engines was making it's way toward them.
"I guess we'll see," Kal replied, half to himself. He pulled on his helmet as Mij set the Aggressor down on the wharf. The landing gear hissed, and the boarding ramp groaned and rumbled as it lowered.
"You're just in time Kal'buir," Mereel called up into the hull as soon as the engines cut.
"Koyacyi, Kal," Mij said, leaning back in the pilot's chair.
"Ke'tayli bral," hold down the fort, Kal said, getting up out and shouldering his verpine rifle. "And…" He turned back at the edge of the ramp.
"I'll call you if anything happens," Mij replied, leaving just what might happen implied.
"Vor entye, vod," Kal replied. Thank you, brother.
Mereel and Prudii boarded the Aggressor as he was disembarking.
"Happy hunting," Mereel said as he passed, and clapped his father on the back with a wide grin. Kal tried and failed to return the smile. He only managed a grimace. Mij's words were still rolling around in his head. He stopped short when Prudii's hard grip closed around his arm. He looked up at his much taller son.
"Be careful, buir," Prudii said softly, staring intently at his father. Kal resisted the urge to swallow while the back of his neck prickled with unease. He hated making his sons worry.
"I will, ad'ika, I will. A'den will look after me," Kal patted Prudii's hand on his arm and the boy let go.
"You might need to look after him," Mereel cut in jovially from the top of the ramp. Kal saw A'den's helmet turn toward his brother, and he could imagine the glare it was hiding. "Cuun vod'ika is smitten with Vorpa, the pilot."
Kal resisted a groan. He didn't know how much more drama he could take. It was somehow more nerve racking and exhausting than combat because it never ended. A battle happened, and then it was done. Relationships were constantly evolving and never truly over.
"I'll do my best, Mer'ika," Kal assured his son as best he could. He stepped down off the ramp to join A'den watching the blocky ship gliding in to land beside them. It's green livery was dark and dull against the gray metal of the hull, but Kal could pick out the name: Gra'tua, vengeance. A'den started forward as soon as the ramp began to lower and the hatch opened. A woman appeared to block the doorway decked out in green armor almost the same color as her ship. When she took her helmet off Kal saw where she got her name.
"My fee?" She said before A'den's feet even touched the ramp.
"Thirteen thousand," he said, nodding and pulling the cred chips from a pocket on his belt, "like we agreed." She accepted the creds and stepped out of the way to let them board.
"This is my father," A'den added, motioning behind him. Vorpa swept an appraising gaze over her new passenger and Kal did the same. The pilot was tall and thin even with her armor, hardly pretty, and rugged looking. Kal had to admire the starburst scar on her lower chest plate. It proved she was made of stern stuff even if she wasn't much to look at. Then again, Kal never though Ordo married Besany for her good looks so it probably didn't really mater to A'den what she looked like.
"Why do they call you Vorpa?" He asked her as he climbed into the Gra'tua. Vorpa grimaced and glared simultaneously.
"Why do they call you Kal?" She snapped back.
Kal smiled. With a well practiced flick of his wrist he dropped the distinctive three sided blade that gave him his name into his palm. "I prefer to do my dirty work up close and personal," he answered and twirled the knife in his hand. Vorpa either thought nothing of the subtle threat or she missed it, because she just rolled her eyes and followed him into the ship stiffly.
"I told you everybody has one," she muttered to A'den as she passed him in the cockpit. She went through the preflight startup quickly, flipping switches with a little more force than necessary.
"You shouldn't have mentioned her name," A'den told his father as Kal settled in the chair beside him. Kal just shrugged and met the glare Vorpa flashed over her shoulder at him without flinching. He changed the subject quickly.
"Are you still alright with me coming along?" He asked. "I may well make the situation worse."
A'den shook his head and said, "I think she would come back for you sooner than me."
"History begs to differ," Kal sighed. Maybe Mij was right, he thought. I don't really know why I'm here. A'den can do this on his own. He's a grown boy.
"You want her to come back," A'den said firmly. It wasn't a question. Kal fingered the tip of his knife, back in it's wrist holster.
"Yes, I do, son," he admitted.
"Then we'll get her back." A'den turned to look out the view screen at the quickly shrinking mountains and the horizon dropping away below them.
It sounds so simple when you say it that way, Kal thought. But you an I both know it's nothing even close to simple. Kal caught Vorpa giving the two men a suspicious look over her shoulder. She turned away quickly and flicked on the hyperdrive.
"Next stop, Kuat," she said and pushed the lever forward. The field of stars streaked into the bright flowing lights of hyperspace and the ship jumped to lightspeed.
.
Rex was trapped. The binders held down his wrists, his bicepts, his thighs, his ankles, his shoulders, and his forehead. The metal against his back was so cold it felt like fire where it touched the sensitive skin around his burn-scars. He strained against the bonds, feeling them biting into his skin. The longer he struggled, the worse his shaking became. His heart was pounding in his good ear and his bad one rang louder and louder with each passing moment of fruitless struggle. He started panting with exertion as he fought to free himself.
Cold fingers clamped down hard enough to leave bruises on his arm and the point of a large needle pricked his inner elbow lightly, hesitating to break his skin.
"Please," Rex panted, "just shoot me." He looked up into a round, ashy face with two vivid blue eyes drowning in guilt.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I promise, it will only take a minute." The sharp prick in his elbow was like an electric shock. He felt like his heart would pound right out of his chest.
No! Not like this!
Rex opened his eyes and gasped. He quickly threw off his blanket and sat up, rubbing his right wrist with his left hand to dispel the ghostly feeling of the binders biting into his skin.
The memory was hazy and disjointed but it was there in the front of his mind. It was more than just a very vivid dread. It had been real. He strained to hold onto it.
That's how I know her. That's who she is! He thought frantically and as quietly as he could he dug the small, untraceable comm link from inside his mattress.
WE NEED TO MEET. SAME PLACE. 0600. -7567 Rex typed out with shaking fingers and hit send. He lay awake for the rest of the night straining to remember more than terror and the murky white images. He could only hold on to one image firmly: her face, dark skin, deep shadows ringing her sunken eyes, her lips framed in creased lines, and her vivid eyes the wrong color blue.
.
At 0554 Rex was briskly striding across Dul's empty bar, his boots thumping against the wood floor loudly. The place somehow looked dirtier without the patrons and the thick haze of hanging smoke. Probably because Rex could now see all the dirt and grime that was usually covered by shadows and shadowy beings. Fox was standing at the bar with a mug of caf, already waiting.
"You're on time, what a—"
Rex cut Fox off tersely, "It's a who, not a what."
"I don't have time for drunken babble, Rex," Fox said, turning around.
"I'm not drunk!" Rex snapped. Dul came out of the back through the swinging doors with a crate of clinking bottles. He swayed a bit on his peg leg as he walked.
"Then what the hell are you talking about?" Fox asked.
"What was the last address that you delivered one of OhAreEsAye's transfers to?"
"An office complex, part of 700 Corus Tower."
"That's what I thought. I just finished a pick up at Corus Tower." Rex jumped a little as Dul slid a cup of caf over the bar. He picked it up but didn't drink it. He still felt wired from the adrenaline of his dream-memory.
"You saw something?" Fox asked.
"Someone," Rex corrected. "OhAreEsAye isn't an acronym, it's a name. Orsa. Dr. Orsa."
"Who is that?"
"I have no idea, but I've met her before."
"When?" Fox was leaning toward Rex and gripping his cup with white knuckles.
"Before my interrogation, in those hours I don't remember," Rex admitted, looking down at his caf. He could still recall the feeling of terror and helplessness strapped to that table. Thinking about it made his fingers tingle like the blood was cut off by restraints that were no longer there. "They've started to come back." He couldn't keep the waver out of his voice voice.
"She was the interrogator?" Fox demanded.
"I don't know. All I remember is the lab." Rex shook his head, trying to clear the all too vivid memory of terror.
"What lab?"
Rex took a shaky breath before he could respond. "I was taken to a lab after my demotion… for reconditioning," he added the last word softly.
"Reconditioning?" Fox asked slowly and Dul stopped restocking his shelves.
"The Kaminoan kind," Rex confirmed their fears, and both men straightened up a little.
"I don't understand. You were being transferred…"
"Walli told me a year ago that no one was going to leave Luke's guard alive. He was right. There was too much secrecy around that kid. The Emperor couldn't just let a soldier who'd seen the boy back into the regular ranks."
"Then why are we alive?"
"Because what we know is useless. No one can prove any of it because there's nothing left to find. The Emperor doesn't have Luke anymore," Rex tried to sound impartial about the last statement.
"But while he did, you were a liability," Fox concluded.
Rex just nodded and plowed on quickly through his story. "I don't know exactly how I got to that lab or where it was. The memory is still vague. I remember the doctor though—it was the same woman I saw while I was loading equipment at Corus Tower."
"You think that's OhAreEsAye?"
"The stormies that were with her called her. Dr. Orsa."
Fox licked his lips nervously and put a hand to his chin. He looked away from Rex beyond the walls of the bar, at something in the distance. Dul turned around to his brothers and crossed his arms. His red eye swiveled back and forth between the two of them.
"We need to talk to her," Fox said softly.
"And how exactly are we going to do that?" Rex asked. "She was under constant guard when I saw her, and her lab could move again at any moment. This is why they keep her moving, so no one can find or target her."
"If they're going to this much trouble to keep her hidden and protected than she's important," Dul said, cutting into the conversation. "But if you're going to get her alone for a little chit-chat, you'll need help."
"There aren't many of our brothers left in the corps," Fox said, shaking his head, "and we can't trust mongrels."
"They wouldn't be much help anyway," Rex muttered.
"Coruscant's a big place," Dul said smoothly, "and trust can be bought."
"Hired help?" Fox asked.
"Criminals?" Rex added.
Dul shrugged. "I know of a Hutt that might be able to find what you need."
"Maybe after our next payday," Rex said acidly.
"We don't have anything to bargain with," Fox translated more diplomatically.
"You may not know you do, but you do," Dul said with a smug look on his expressive mouth. "I could make some calls."
Fox looked at Rex. The latter frowned and considered. It wouldn't be the first time he'd worked with shady people to achieve an end. Skywalker was known for using whatever resources he had, moral or not. Dul was right, they couldn't do it alone and Orsa was their best bet at learning anything. They needed the woman to talk.
"Do it," Rex said, nodding. "I'll owe you one."
"You already owe me, vod. Ke'cuyani akay lise utreya gar entye." Survive until you can repay your debts.
"K'oyacyi!" Rex replied and lifted his mug to his brother. Dul made an amused humf noise and headed into the back again. Rex hid his smile in his cup. It was at least decent caf. When Rex put his cup down Fox was staring at him. Rex narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Say what you're going to say, Fox. You've never pulled your punches before," Rex said, feeling uncomfortable under the look of scrutiny he was getting.
"Why didn't you run if you knew you were going to die? Why not have the Mandalorian's save you? They could have done that with skills like theirs."
Rex turned away and looked down into his cup again, fighting to keep his face impassive.
"It was about the child, the little boy, Luke!" Fox realized. "You didn't want the Emperor to have him."
"Luke is long gone," Rex said. "It doesn't matter now."
"How do you know the Mandalorian's aren't worse than the Empire? Who knows what they've done with him. They could have sold him into slavery…"
"They wouldn't!" Rex snapped back. He could remember the look of animalistic fury on Skywalker's face at the mention of slavers. Rex wouldn't let Anakin's child, Padme's child, become a slave—especially not to the Empire!
"How do you know?" Fox demanded.
"Jorcu val cuun'aliit!" Rex hissed. Because they're our family! Fox's accusing glare didn't waver for a moment. Realization was slow to dawn on Rex. "You already knew," he muttered.
"I heard their voices when Walli tapped into their comms. Just because they're clones doesn't make them family."
"It isn't just that! I trust them. They'll keep Luke safe. They owe me that much," Rex explained.
"I see." Fox said and pushed his empty mug across the bar. He turned to go calmly.
"That's all you have to say?" Rex stared in confusion.
"Yes," Fox said over his shoulder. He paused at the door of the bar. "For once, Rex, I understand you." Without another word he left. Rex just stared after his brother.
"I don't understand you at all," Rex said to his cup of caf.
.
Author's Note: My chapters are getting longer (AHHHH!) but I don't want to split them up anymore (AHHAAAA!). I'm actually starting to like Fox as a character. It's really a surprise. My sister, who's been helping me write this, said it's all about perspective. Well, I hope it was at least entertaining. I promise Ahsoka will be in the next chapter. Favorite, Follow, Review... or don't... but I would love to know what you think. –Em.