Author's Note: My lovely beta reader is having a hysterical breakdown about my chapter numbering (I exaggerate). So for her I am making some adjustments. This chapter is actually two chapters posted as one. Both chapters were supposed to be part of the previous chapter which was supposed to be chapter 14... but all of my chapters are spilling over into more chapters... so I'm adjusting my numbering system. Next chapter will be Chapter 17 (damn this is getting long). Sorry it's so late. -Em.
.
Chapter 15: An Enemy's Enemy
.
The sound of heavy boots jerked Rex out of his thoughts. He turned his head and heard the pounding steps of familiar treads louder and all of a sudden near by.
Shab, he thought, they came up on my deaf side. He chanced a glance around the boxes piled in the truck. He saw the white shapes of stormtroopers moving into the speeder bay and a darker head of curly hair in their midst. It was unmistakably the group he was waiting for. Rex looked down at the commlink in his hand. He accepted that his next actions might bring him right back into his nightmares but at least they took him out of the nightmare he was living. Rex dialed the signal.
His comm was automatically routed through his helmet and chatter filled his good ear.
"I was starting to think I got all dressed up for nothing," Nasis quipped over the mercenaries' comms. "It's open season, boys!"
Rex didn't have long to wait before the first shots pinged like small firecrackers echoing in the cavernous bay. Nasis's men were right on schedule. A woman screamed and the stormtroopers started shouting.
"Snipers!"
"Cover!"
"Get the Doctor out of here!"
"Move!"
Over the pounding sound of heavy boots Rex heard one pained and terrified scream and a body falling with the familiar sound of plastoid clattering onto duracrete. Return shots started belatedly echoing out of the speeder bay. The discharging blasters made whomping noises that reverberated in the space and covered the pinging contacts of Nasis' shots.
Rex paused just long enough for chaos to break out but not long enough for order or a stalemate to be reached. He drew his hold out blaster and vaulted out of the back of the truck, landing on the duracrete with a painful impact that jarred all the way up his back. Staunchly, he ignored it.
Bending low behind the remaining crates scattered across the speeder bay he slunk toward the protection detail and the slim cowering figure of the Doctor, his target. Shots of hot red plasma lit up the speeder bay opening and rained down on the parked craft within firing range.
The mongrel troopers were scattered and panicking. Half of them were separated from their charge behind different areas of cover, leaving her with only two men. Rex paused to still his ragged breathing at the edge of his own cover before dashing into the open. He dodged left then randomly right, not keeping steady pace, which was easier than he thought when one of his legs was constantly threatening to fail him at any moment. A shot threw up a spray of shattered duracrete by his ankle and another charred the maintenance card the moment before he ducked behind it for cover. Rex breathed a heavy sigh of momentary relief and heard his heart pounding loudly in both his ears.
He didn't have time to savor his survival. The mongrel troopers were just feet away from him, and his target was huddled between them. They were yelling to each other over external speakers like di'kute, forgetting completely in their panic that they had internal comms.
"We're pinned down!" One of them yelled at the other.
"Call for backup!" the other replied in a voice that shook.
"We'll be dead by then!" Rex called, his parade voice carrying easily to both men. They sat up straighter at his authoritative tone and turned in his direction. "We have to get the Doctor out of here!"
"We won't make it ten feet!" The first trooper argued. Rex rolled his eyes behind his helmet.
And I thought Jaina's togruta recruits were bad, he thought ruefully but the next second shots pinged off their cover and the thought fled his mind.
"It's ten feet or ten minutes, boys," he answered and had to bite back the word 'troopers'; it wasn't what a mongrel would say. "You," he pointed at the first one. "When we move, open fire and over us."
"You," Rex pointed at the second trooper on the Doctor's far side, "Stick close to the Doctor, stay low, and move fast. The west access ramp is twenty paces back. That's our escape route." Rex pointed toward the hallway where the rest of his squad had left the speeder bay hours before. The two troopers looked at the far off doorway and then back at Rex. While their heads were turned Rex tapped back into the mercenary comms in his helmet.
"Nasis," He called.
"Please, we're committing felonies together, call me Conall."
"I'm with the target."
"Roger, bucket-boy," Nasis said, a chuckle in his voice and then a hard grunt of exhale forced out by a rifle's recoil. "Hear that, you bug-slut krettle," he said to his own people, "don't shoot the white-jobs with the Doctor. One of them is our meal ticket. Shoot him and none of us get paid."
"Ready," Rex said to the stormtroopers beside him, his voice clearly not questioning but ordering. "On my mark. Three, two,…" He reached past the trooper beside him and wrapped his good hand around the Doctor's trembling arm and hauled her to her feet at the same time the trooper behind him spun and raised his DeeCee. The stormtrooper hesitated to pull the trigger, looking for a target he was never going to see. His buddy was only slightly more competent and jumped up a moment behind Rex. He helped to push the Doctor to her feet.
A hot whizz, hiss, splat sound behind them made the stormtrooper turn in time to see his buddy slump onto the duracrete with a smoking, blackened hole in his bucket.
"Jan!" The stormtrooper cried.
"Watch it!" Nasis called over the mercenary comms.
"Leave him!" Rex snapped harshly at the mongrel and dragged the doctor and the stormtrooper clinging to her other arm with him toward the west access ramp. The terrifying moments running across the empty space of the speeder bay seemed endless. Rex's feet could never move fast enough. Each of the Doctor's stumbling steps sent his heart racing faster with the mounting adrenaline rush. Despite knowing that the shooters shouldn't be targeting him he still felt a euphoric rush of success when he ducked behind the corner of the hallway wall into cover again. The Doctor stumbled and pressed herself to the wall, gasping for breath and trembling to the ends of her frizzy dark curls. The stormtrooper was in little better shape.
"Th-they shot him…" he cried.
"Move!" Rex urged and pushed them both down the hallway. He could feel how close he was to success. It was the most dangerous part of any mission, when the end was so close he could taste it. That was when things usually went terribly wrong.
"W-what about the oth—" The Doctor turned in his grasp to ask him something, clearly determining his authority in the situation. The mongrel turned to look at her and Rex took it as distraction enough. Discretely he pointed his hold out blaster backwards, behind his back, and fired. The shot echoed in the hallway and other two jumped.
"Cover!" Rex cried and dragged the Doctor to his side of the hallway, pressing himself to the wall. The stormtrooper dashed to the opposite side, looking backward down the hallway, his weapon still pointed at the ground.
Poor shabuir, Rex couldn't help his thoughts; no one taught him how to survive.
"Where are they?" The stormtrooper cried in panic.
"Right here, aruetii," Rex said, raising his holdout blaster. At such a short range it shot right through the dome of the mongrel's helmet and killed him instantly. The Doctor screamed and tried to wrench out of Rex's grip but he closed his hand around her arm. The months of physical labor had built back up his strength and her trembling struggles did nothing to help her. He turned the blaster on her and she whimpered. Doctor Orsa looked at Rex with swimming watery blue eyes.
"Move," he growled and pushed her forward, down the ramp toward the platform at the end. She stumbled and struggled with whimpering gasps as he lead her forcefully away from the receding sounds of the shootout still raging behind them. Rex opened up his internal comms again.
"Fox, you had better be in position."
"You're late as usual," Fox replied as Rex spied an unmarked speeder truck, compliments of Dul, descending to the platform. As Rex and the Doctor reached it the back doors opened automatically with the hiss of hydraulics. Rex shoved the Doctor into the dark empty compartment and climbed in after her. The doors closed and shut out the bright streaming sunlight. Rex's HUD flickered to compensate for the light change while his eyes adjusted.
"Nasis," Rex said into the comms. The floor under his feet lurched sending the Doctor tumbling to her knees as Fox took off in a nearly vertical ascent off the platform, arching precisely out of the view of the spotty surveillance system.
"For a second I thought the stormies had gotten the better of you," Nasis replied.
"We have the target and we're making our get away. I suggest you don't hang around."
"Roger that. It's been fun. We should do this again sometime."
"Thanks for the help, Conall," Rex said, smirking inside his helmet.
"Bet you miss working with professionals."
"You have no idea," Rex replied and cut out of the channel to the sound of Conall's laughter.
He turned his attention down to the woman shivering on the floor of the dark compartment, staring up at him with terrified blue eyes—the wrong color blue.
.
Fox put the unmarked speeder truck down in a parking structure in the nearest Industrial District, just below a loud construction site where worker droids were busy all hours of the day and night. Inside the vehicle, the noise was distracting, which meant it would cover any noises that might come out. Fox shut off the engine and climbed around the seat into the back with Rex and the mysterious Doctor Orsa.
She looked exhausted, was Fox's first thought. Beneath the utilitarian white coat and gray skirt-suit she was thinner than her wide shoulders told him she should be. Her hair was one frizzy unkempt mass around her haggard face. There was nothing kind in her sharp blue eyes, just a cold, pitiless anger as she glared at each of them. Her lips trembled as she bit back a sob every few moments.
"Who are you?" Rex asked the first question. Her lip trembled harder and she didn't answer.
"What is OhAreEsAy?" Rex asked.
The Doctor tucked her head further toward her chest.
"What do you know about Trooper IT-9991 Private Walli?"
The Doctor sniffed.
"What do you know about Trooper IT-6779 Private Ven?"
The Doctor shrunk back into the corner and sniffed again.
"I know you have something to do with all of this. Who are you and what do you know about OhAreEsAy?"
She sniffed.
"Answer me," Rex snapped in the harsh command of a practiced drill sergeant and the Doctor jumped visibly, accidently biting her lip. I broke open and began to bleed. Fox bent down to put himself on her level.
"We just want answers," he told her calmly, a counterpoint to Rex's hostile demand.
"Answers," she hissed at him, spitting blood. A drop fell on her white coat. "You have no idea what you've done. I have nothing to say to you." She turned away from him and the anger that bled through her fear fell from her face to reveal grief. Her hard cold eyes relaxed into broken apathy. She was in despair, a despair that he recognized. His own heart clenched at the memory of his own losses.
"Perhaps we can make a deal," Fox said. "We may be able to help each other."
Something in her face tensed at his words, a flicker of hope, even if she didn't look up. Fox reached up to his helmet and popped the seal then lifted it off his head. He motioned for Rex to do the same. He was almost surprised the man followed his lead.
The Doctor looked toward him warily. Wariness became curiosity when she saw his recognizable face and then shock when she looked up at Rex.
"You," she breathed the word, still staring up at Rex. "No… No, you shouldn't… why are you here? You were…. Why didn't you…?"
"You know him?" Fox asked but her eyes remained on Rex. The shock morphed back into anger, cold and bitter anger.
"No!" She hit the wall of the speeder with her fist. "No! You should have left!" She screamed at Rex who didn't so much as flinch. "You should be gone! Why did you stay? You'll mess everything up! You'll lead him right back to that child!"
"What child?" Fox demanded. "Luke? Do you mean Luke?"
The doctor's eyes snapped to Fox and this time a new recognition flashed in her eyes. She didn't just recognize his face, but the man. She didn't just know he was a clone; she knew exactly which clone he was. "You know me! How? How do you know about Luke? What is so karking special about that damn kid?" Fox turned now to glare at Rex.
The former Captain's face was hard as stone as he looked down at the Doctor, the hand around his blaster shaking with the force of his grip.
Damn it! Fox thought. I've got more important things to worry about than fracking Luke "Palpatine".
"Why do you want to protect that child?" Rex asked, deliberately being vague. The Doctor's face twisted in a sneer of wry humor.
"I don't. I don't give a crap about that whelp. But the Emperor wants him so I want him as far from the Emperor's grubby hands as possible because it will piss him off!" She hissed at Rex with venom in her words and bright red blood on her lips. Fox reeled at the unexpected turn of events.
"If you hate the Emperor so much why do you work for him?"
"Because he has my mother!" She snapped. "And he's going to kill her because of you!"
"Why? Because of what?" Fox insisted.
"Because you stole me!" She screamed back at him, tears breaking from her eyes and rolling down her shallow cheeks, a drop of blood rolling parallel down her chin.
Could she be telling the truth? Fox wondered. Not that he wouldn't put it past the Emperor to blackmail a scientist into working for him, but her story seemed too convenient. Her anger looked real to him as did her despair. Fox glanced up at Rex who was watching the Doctor suspiciously, almost fearfully.
"You kept the Emperor from finding the child?" Rex asked her.
The Doctor looked away.
"What is OhAreEsAy?" Fox asked her and got a wry, caustic smile.
"You had better start talking or this is going to get very painful for you," Rex growled, his expression murderous. The Doctor ignored him and looked up at Fox.
"You said a deal," she whispered, "you wanted to make a deal?"
Fox eyed her suspiciously.
"You want answers; I know you do…" she took a deep breath before she continued. "I know because OhAreEsAy is me, I'm Orsa. I—I can give the answers you're looking for."
"Then answer me now!" Rex snapped. "Did you change the reports to prot—to hide the child?"
"Take me back and I'll answer all of your questions," she insisted. Her eyes shifted rapidly between her captors and she was shaking uncontrollably.
"Reto'ran! That's not happing until you answer me!" Rex yelled.
"I-I won't say another word until you take me back," she replied softly, her voice horse and shaking.
"Fraking—" Rex took a half step forward.
"K'uur! Nu'gaa'tayli'la!" Fox snapped at him. Shut up! You aren't helping!
"She killed our brothers! She's the reason they shot Walli!"
"IT-9991 was already dead," Orsa cried defensively. "He was an adherent. They would have killed him anyway."
"Hayc'osik! They shot him and he died choking on his own blood because of you!"
Fox stood up slowly and bore down on Rex with painstaking calm to spit out the words, "You are the reason they're dead!"
For a moment it looked like Rex was going to deny it, but then his jaw became tense and rigid as his teeth ground together. Fox realized his hand had strayed to his blaster holster out of sheer habit.
"Fives."
Rex and Fox both turned to the Doctor at their feet. She glanced between the two of them quickly with red-rimmed, pleading eyes.
"What did you say?" Rex asked slowly, his voice shaking with the hard won restraint.
"ARC Trooper Fives, CT-5555. I can tell you who's responsible for his death." She was shaking from head to toe, her hands gripping her legs, her dark skin nearly pale at her fingertips from the pressure.
"I know who killed Fives!" Fox snapped at her.
"You know who pulled the trigger," she said, "but I can tell you why you were sent to execute him."
Fox gulped unconsciously before he could stop himself.
For a moment speeder truck was silent. Fox looked at Orsa and saw the dark warehouse and the puddle of light where his brother, a man with his face who had never known freedom, lay dying. Rex stared at Fox and the all too familiar glaze over his brother's eyes. He knew what ghosts looked like. The Doctor watched the two clones that held her fate in their hands, hoping against everything her rational mind knew they would take the deal.
"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "My mother is the only person I have left. I'm just trying to protect my family."
The ghosts before his eyes morphed and Fox saw red. Every durasteel bar of self-control he had constructed to hold in the violent nature bred into him broke in a tidal wave of rage. Before Rex could even register the change in his brother Fox lunged at the Doctor, dragged her off her feet with his large hands fisted in her collar. Her head cracked against the metal door and the siding whoomped like a massive bass drum. Even that wasn't loud enough to drown out the tortured roar that broke out of the normally composed man.
"Your family? What about my family?" He yelled, inches from her face, his hands twisted in the fabric of her shirt, pressed tight against her throat. Her wide eyes dilated in panic and flecks of spit splattered her face. "They're only in danger because of you! What about them?"
"FOX!" Rex grabbed for his brother, wrestling him away from the Doctor. It took every ounce of strength he had recovered in the past year. "Udesii, vod! Ku'dar'mirci! Mhi liniba kayce." Rex finally managed to pry Fox's fingers off the Doctor's shirt and she collapsed, gasping, back onto the floor.
"Udesii!" Rex snapped at Fox, and shoved his brother to the back of the truck.
Fox panted as he fought to catch his breath and slow his racing heart. He whipped his mouth with the back of his hand and forced himself to turn away from the Doctor and Rex, blocking them from his vision and his mind.
Rex stared, gaping at his brother's back. Never, not in all the years that he had known Fox—through live fire exercises, battle, arguments—never had he seen Fox lose it so completely.
"Take me back," the Doctor gasped for the breath to speak, "take me back, or I swear on my life I will never tell you a thing. I'll die before I say another word. No mater what you do to me, no mater how much pain you put me through, I'll never tell you what you want to know."
Rex looked down at the hard blue eyes of the Doctor then back at Fox's back. His brother had become deadly still again. Fox glanced over his shoulder and gave Rex a look that said everything:
Can we really give her back? Can we afford not to? Do either of us really have the stomach to torture a woman into answering our questions? Do we have the skills? Do we have the time?
After just a moment the answers became blatantly apparent to both of them.
"How do we know you won't turn us over to the Emperor as traitors?" Rex asked her slowly.
"You don't," she answered. "But you're only alive right now because of me. I convinced the Emperor you could be controlled… if not trusted." Her eyes flickered momentarily to Fox. The look he shot back at her could have vaporized ice. "In my experience," she said to the floor, "control is more valuable than trust."
"Shab," Rex hissed and Fox just clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration. He started when Rex pushed past him toward the driver's seat.
"What the frak are you doing?" Fox demanded.
"Taking her back, unless you have a better idea." Rex turned to his brother. Fox was still breathing a little harder than normal and his eyes flickered back to the Doctor once before he shook his head. Even that small act of deference was uncharacteristic. Rex glanced at the Doctor, curiosity burning in his gut.
"We can't…" Fox said but trailed off. I can't let this chance go! He thought.
"If you think you can beat the answers out of her before the Empire finds us, do it."
Fox couldn't even look Rex in the eyes.
"I'll drop you near the next depot," Rex said after a moment of painful silence filled with resignation. "Then I'll take the good Doctor back and make up some excuse: right place at the right time kind of thing."
"You think they're going to buy that?" Fox asked skeptically.
"No vod would, but these are mongrels. They're stupider than you give them credit for," Rex said with a roll of his eyes. "And I'm a mindless clone. I don't have the capacity to lie or think for myself."
Fox made a half amused humf noise as Rex started up the engines. They both nearly missed the Doctor's whispered aside.
"You're more right than you know."
"Add that to the list of things you're going to explain after this, Doc." Rex kicked the speeder to life and maneuvered them out of the parking structure.
"Tahmina." Her voice was softer, rough, but not unkind.
"What?" Fox asked.
"My name. It's Tahmina Orsa. Seems only fair since I already know yours." She looked down at her hands in her lap then glanced up to meet his eyes hesitantly. "For what it's worth," she ventured, "Thank you."
Fox's throat constricted and he couldn't find the words to respond. He hated to give her the one thing that she was denying him. It made her gratitude feel like a knife twisting between his ribs.
"Don't thank us just yet," Rex replied over his shoulder as he steered them into the main speeder lanes. Tahmina Orsa looked back down at her hands in her lap and tried to temper her hopes.
"K'urci ni sha Dul'pir'yaim, sha ca'nara naas-ehn-olan ," Meet me at Dul's bar, 0300 hours, Fox said to Rex in a hushed voice.
"Ret'" Rex said with a nod as they pulled up to a speeder platform a few blocks away from a nearby stormtrooper dispatch depot. Fox climbed out the front side door, with one last look back at the Doctor. He slammed the door behind him as he hopped down onto the duracrete. Rex shot away in the unmarked truck, while Fox watched all the answers he'd been chasing for more than half a year dwindle to just another speck in the Coruscanti sky lanes.
Fox jammed his helmet back on his head and squared his shoulders to the world. He retreated inside his armor, hiding every treacherous emotion back in the durasteel prison he'd built for them. He marched away from the platform looking like any other trooper, going about Imperial business.
.
Chapter 16: An Enemy's Enemy Part II
.
After the sun set the temperature dropped rapidly. Ny sat on the damp ground with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering and sniffling. She missed the warm karyai of Kyrimorut. She had never lived in a house with a fireplace before meeting Kal. It was comforting in a primal way to have raw warmth and power at the center of the house, drawing everyone together.
Ny could always someone by the constant fire, day or night. Besany sat there in the mornings while she braided her hair, and she was always happy to listen. Laseema played with the children beside the fire during the day and always welcomed Ny to join in. Kal slept by the fire more often than not in the nearest chair just waiting to comfort anyone who wandered in, whatever the hour. If no one else was there Vau was propping his feet up with Mird at his side. Ny would take the hard old soldier's silent company over the Bounty Hunter's icy glare in an instant. She'd give up ever seeing her ship again to be back on Mandalore with Kal's strange family. She sniffled loudly and whipped her nose with her sleeve, telling herself it was just the cold and the stinging in her eyes was just the wind.
The Bounty Hunter looked up suddenly and stood. She remained stone still watching a single star high above them.
"They're here," she said softly. Ny peered up into the darkness speckled with indistinct shapes of light. She didn't see anything for several long minutes. Then one star started to get brighter and move faster across the sky. It became a red burning streak in the atmosphere then a bright light descending through the cold clear air.
The sounds of an engine drive had never sounded so good to Ny.
The ship that set down half a dozen meters from them was a bulky, bulbous transport vessel with a strange, yellow-stripped livery and odd characters painted on the side. The boarding ramp lowered slowly and spilled warm light from inside. The Bounty Hunter started toward the ship confidently as a slender figure in what looked like an elaborate headdress descended from the ship. Ny trailed after the Bounty Hunter cautiously and noticed a tall, dark-skinned man trailing similarly after the woman. The two pairs met halfway.
On closer inspection Ny saw that the woman's headdress was actually a part of her physiology. She was a red and white togruta, and judging by the size of her montrals she was still a young adult. She was dressed in sturdy athletic clothes like the Bounty Hunter and openly wore a hand blaster on each hip.
"I was under the impression you were dead," the Bounty Hunter said in a tone that was both cold and smooth at the same time.
"I'm surprised you're not," the Togruta replied. Her voice was unmistakably the same one from the comm.
They know each other! Ny could have smacked her own forehead in frustration.
"Wait," the man cried at his companion, "you know this witch?" He was as tall as the togruta's montrals and his head was just as hairless. He had dark shadows under his eyes and deep lines around his mouth. His clothing looked washed but it was heavily stained.
"Oh we go way back," the Bounty Hunter replied snidely.
"We've reluctantly worked together before," the Togruta cut in tersely, "when it was mutually beneficial."
"Can we trust her?" Ny caught the man asking the Togruta softly.
"No," the Bounty Hunter answered back. "All I want is the bounty on Djela Kur and to be on my way. What is your interest in him?"
"He stole something from us," the Togruta said evenly.
"You mean someone!" Ny said darkly.
"Yes," the Togruta didn't even flinch.
"Well I know you're no slaver," the Bounty Hunter said. "So what is your interest in the youngling?"
"We just want her back," the Togruta said evenly.
They're trying to rescue the child, Ny thought. Oh, kark! Did I help kidnap their daughter? She felt slightly sick at the thought. The Bounty Hunter just shrugged.
"Then you won't mind if I take Djela Kur off your hands," she said. "Seems like a fair deal."
"What about my ship?" Ny spoke up. The dark skinned man glared at her in outrage, like she had tried to equate dirt to spice.
"You must be Nyreen Vollen, the pilot Djela hired," The Togruta said looking Ny up and down more kindly than her companion. Ny guessed she was a worse sight than the man: dirty, sweaty and disheveled.
"Djela called in a debt," the Bounty Hunter explained for Ny. "He thought he could hide his tracks by hiring someone outside the system. He wasn't very discreet about it though."
"Yeah," the Togruta said, "we followed the same trail."
"But you had something else," the Bounty Hunter's eyes shifted to man beside the Togruta. "I'm impressed you hid something from me." Ny saw the large man flinch and look away quickly. The Bounty Hunter apparently didn't go around making many friends or saying please. The Togruta stepped between her companion and the Bounty Hunter.
"Do you want our help or not?" She asked. "I don't see your ship anywhere nearby so I assume you're walking to the nearest civilized outpost. That's a long way to go on foot."
The Bounty Hunter growled lowly.
"I do," Ny said immediately, feeling guilty for asking anything of people she had wronged so grievously.
"Shut up!" The Bounty Hunter hissed.
"You're welcome to come with us," the Togruta said, ignoring the rude outburst.
"What? She's Djela's friend," the man hissed.
"Friends don't steal their friends' ship," his companion said, then added, "usually."
You must have interesting friends, Ny thought. But then again, she had befriended a small army of genetically engineered soldiers.
"Fine," the Bounty Hunter shrugged and crossed her arms, "we'll do this your way little padewan."
The Togruta narrowed her eyes in a glare. Great! Ny thought, more force-users. I'm starting to be as biased as Kal.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't go around calling me that," the Jedi hissed. "I'd rather certain parties didn't learn I survived."
"Alright, no names, if I can expect the same from you."
"Deal," the Jedi agreed.
"So what do I call you?"
"Captain will be fine," the Togruta smirked almost cruelly at the Bounty Hunter's grimace of disgust. "It is my ship after all."
"Not much of a ship."
"More than you have. And what are you going by nowadays? I don't suppose I can go around calling you the Hairless-Harpy?"
"I see your crude humor survived the war. Bounty Hunter works as well as any name." Ny was surprised to hear what might have been genuine amusement or relief in the raspy voice.
The Togruta, the Captain, just shrugged apparently unbothered by the Bounty Hunter's reticence to answer.
"Then we're in agreement. We track down Djela and retake the Cornucopia. Sayne and I get the cargo, the Bounty Hunter gets her man, and Nyreen get's her ship back. We all go our separate ways and never speak of this again."
"Agreed," the Bounty Hunter hissed. She stalked forward toward the ship without waiting for an invitation. The man, Sayne, turned to the Captain as soon as the Bounty Hunter was behind them and gave her a pointed look.
"She may not be nice but she's honest," the Captain told her companion in an authoritative tone that lived up to her self appointed title.
"Come on aboard, Ms. Vollen." the Captain turned away from Sayne's skeptical look and spoke to Ny kindly. "I'll see if we can find something to warm you up. I'm sorry for not introducing myself, but these are dangerous times."
"Yeah," the old pilot sighed, "I can't blame you. Call me Ny." She held out her hand and the Captain shook it firmly with a warm grip. Maybe it was some Jedi Force trick, but Ny felt suddenly more at ease and secure. Or it was just the warmth of the ship she was climbing into chasing out the last chills of her perilous plunge through empty air. She took one last look at the shadow-shrouded, ubiquitously green landscape that so nearly became her grave.
Nearly dying does strange things to you I guess, she thought and turned away from it for what she hoped was the last time.
.
Dul's bar was nearly empty at 3 in the morning. A few patrons were scattered at the shadowed tables, some slumped over in drunken stupors. Dul wandered around the tables, collecting empty glasses and plates. His peg leg made hollow thuds against the floorboards in the near silence. Rex was limping nearly as bad as the scarred barman when he came in, and dressed in his civi's he was barely distinguishable as a clone. Dul took one look at his old friend and jerked his head toward a secluded booth in the back.
Fox was already there, slumped uncharacteristically in his seat. His hair was disheveled and his fatigues were un-tucked. He hardly looked like the same man Rex had meet there only a few weeks ago.
Rex slid into the booth on the other side of the table. He glanced at the cloudy bottle of Dul's moonshine sitting at Fox's elbow.
"Sorry I'm late," he muttered and reached for the bottle. He paused half way through he motion and glanced at his brother. Fox was looking down at his limp hands on the table—not even acknowledging Rex's arrival.
"What no reprimand?" Rex asked. "How much of this stuff have you had?" He lifted the bottle and sloshed around the nearly full contents.
"I haven't touched it," Fox said, glancing at Rex then looking out at the bar, absently running a hand through his already messy hair.
"Than you won't mind if I help myself," Rex said, half expecting Fox to take up the clear opening for criticism. Rex poured his drink and downed it absentmindedly, only shocked out of his pondering by the acrid taste of the drink. He always forgot how terrible it was.
"You look like shit," Rex told Fox as he poured himself another.
"That's hilarious coming from you," Fox quipped back but there was no emotion in his voice, not even annoyance. "So they bought your story?"
"Yeah," Rex nodded and sipped his drink. "It helps that Nasis shot out all the holocams in the area and there are no living witnesses—other than Orsa." He tried not to think about the poor mongrel he had gunned down himself. How old was he? Rex wondered absently. 20 or 21 maybe, he figured by the man's voice, still older than any brother. Rex forced down those thoughts and followed by the rest of his glass. "Orsa sold it—told them I rescued her and insisted on flying around four districts to make sure we weren't followed. She's a decent actress."
"Only means she could be playing us as well," Fox muttered and snagged the bottle from Rex. He poured a generous measure into his clean glass.
"You don't think she'll hold up her end of the bargain?"
"You heard what she thinks of us," Fox spat and glared at Rex, finally looking more like himself. "She has no reason to follow through and every reason not to. She's given in. She's just another slave—same as us."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Rex said, looking down at the last drop of bluish alcohol rolling around as he tipped his glass. "She risked her mother's life and her own to disrupt the Emperor's plans by hiding Luke and saved our lives in the process. Those don't seem like the actions of someone who's given up. It's not a reason to trust her but at least we know we're on the right rack. That's more than we had this morning."
"That won't make a difference if we're caught and reconditioned!" Fox downed his glass and refilled it.
"It's a bit late for caution," Rex said with wry amusement. "It was never my strong suit anyway. Neither was giving up; I'll see this through to the end."
Fox glanced up from his cup and sighed. "To the end," he said and held up the glass. Rex filled his own, and lifted it to Fox's.
"Mar'ecye," he said and they both drank. Mar'ecye was a fitting description for their goal. It described the feeling of elation finding something after a long and painful search. Mandalorians believed it was a state of heaven—nearly unattainable and transcendent: a dream. The answers they were looking for felt somehow farther away than they ever had before, elusively dreamlike.
Rex wondered if he might not like the answers even when he did find them. At least I'll know, Rex thought. What is Fox hoping to find? The shock of watching Fox loose control hadn't completely worn off yet. He was debating how to approach the explosive subject when Fox grumbled into his drink.
"Are you going to ask?"
"I was thinking about it," Rex answered. "Must be someone special to make you loose your cool like that." To Rex's surprise Fox laughed dryly and shook his head, grinning a pained smile.
"I wouldn't know," he said. "I've never met him."
"Huh?"
"Kagiso," Fox said softly with an awed expression, his eyes bright. "My son's name is Kagiso. He was born during the war. I've never even seen him." Fox laughed again, the sound choking off as he covered his mouth.
"Shab," Rex breathed, staring wide eyed and mouth agape. Straight-lace, by-the-book, not-a-toe-out-of-line Fox has a child! It doesn't seem like him to risk being reconditioned by having an affair, much less a child—tangible proof of his disobedience.
"I spilled everything in that debriefing—about his mother, her home world, and our marriage." Fox went on when he got his voice back, "The Emperor knows who they are and how to find them. Doctor Orsa said we lived because we could be controlled. If I step out of line, it will be their lives. They're the Emperor's assurance against… against this! Frak! I'm just like her." Fox slammed his fist against the table and the glasses jumped with a loud crash that sounded like blaster fire in the silent bar.
A few of the scattered patrons turned at the noise and Rex glared at them until they looked away. It gave Fox a moment to compose himself. When Rex looked back Fox was leaning against the wall behind him. He stared resolutely at the ceiling, blinking.
"What has the Empire done with them?" Rex asked softly.
"Nothing as far as I can tell," Fox answered, his voice more even and controlled. "I know where they are. I keep track of them discreetly when I can."
"So this…" Rex didn't put a name to their treason.
"I have to know what they know—I need to know everything!" Fox said lowly, his hands fisted on the table. "I don't trust them—I don't trust anyone anymore. Maybe if I have something of my own, something to bargain with I can protect them… protect my family… my son." His gaze snapped up to pin Rex. "That's why you're doing this isn't it—to protect that child? You know who he is, don't you—who he really is?"
Rex felt blood drain from his face. "I sure know who he isn't," he replied.
"This is why I hate you; even now you won't tell me a fraking thing," Fox growled, his eyes tight with a shadow of the anger that had possessed him to attack Orsa. Rex bit the inside of his cheek as he considered what he could tell his brother. Last time the subject had come up he'd been surprised at Fox's acceptance. For once, I understand you, Fox had said that morning. Fox was probably the only brother, apart from Cut, who might.
"It was his mother," Rex admitted tensely, spinning his glass on the table nervously. "She cared about us, about our brothers." His hand stilled as his mind filled with the memories of his short mission on Naboo. "She was one of the bravest and kindest people I've ever known."
But it wasn't Padme Amidala he was seeing in his memory; it was a small togruta with red and white facial markings. Her face was ashen and streaked in livid, unnatural, blue veins. Her breath was coming raggedly, her small ribs heaving with every gasp. He could see the sweat on her feverish forehead but her skin was as hot as his own when he lowered his forehead to hers.
"How do you know he's her son?" Fox snapped Rex out his memories. The tense feeling in his chest eased as Rex inhaled quickly, the memory driven away. What was that? He wondered. Fox was still glaring him down for answers and Rex struggled to find a way to explain how he knew Luke was Padme and Anakin's son. When the boy had his father's eyes and even as an infant his strength with the Force was apparent, it was unquestionable, even if Kenobi hadn't revealed the secret marriage.
"Because I know who his father is, and I know how Palpatine found the boy—I was the one who told him where to look," Rex admitted with a heavy sigh.
"And the kid's father? I noticed you used the present tense so you must think he's still alive. Was he also a Jedi?"
"I never said anything about Jedi," Rex schooled his face and chose his words with care. "Besides the Jedi Council forbade attachments; Jedi didn't have families." He didn't dare try to outright lie to Fox.
"Humf," his brother made frustrated noise and leaned back into his chair, shoulders tight with anger. "Fine," Fox growled. "I can see that's your way of telling me to be happy with what I've got."
"I don't expect you to be happy about any of this," Rex defended, scrambling for a way to explain the deadly waters Fox was wading into. "Luke's secret isn't one that gives you power over anyone. It'll just get you killed—and Luke's father is just as likely to kill you as the Sith because you know it."
Rex shivered to think what Anakin Skywalker would do to the men who betrayed him and helped steal his son. During hte war he had seen up close what Skywalker was capable of when angered. Even though he still had nightmares of the Emperor's office and the smell of rotting, burning flesh, he would take the Sith over Anakin without question; the Sith wouldn't take Rex's betrayal personally.
"Is that why you didn't return him to his father, if the man's still alive?" Fox asked, peering at his brother's fearful expression.
"I couldn't if I wanted to; I have no idea where he is," Rex sounded relieved to be able to say it.
"But even if you did, you wouldn't."
Would I? Rex asked himself. He had seen what kind of Master Skywalker had been to Ahsoka. Despite his care, Anakin was absentminded and self-centered, largely leaving his Padewan to fend for herself. She had survived on her strong will and independent drive. Would Skywalker treat his son any differently?
"I don't know what kind of father he would be," Rex said without answering the question.
"And how well do you know these people you left the boy with?" Fox criticized. "What kind of parents do you think an army of Mandalorian mercenaries will be? They're soldiers—like us."
Like Skywalker, Rex thought before he remembered Anakin had been a Jedi first—that Anakin was supposed to be a Jedi first.
"I didn't turn out to be much of a father," Fox muttered into his drink. "All I've done is endanger my child since before he was born. Do you think they'll be any better than me, or you?"
Rex had never paused to think what kind of father he would be—he never thought he would get the chance. He thought of Cut Lawquane and his two adopted children. Maybe if I make it through this I'll take Luke to Selucamai, he thought. It would be good to see Cut again and he'd know how to raise a child right. We could have a quiet life. His heart was heavy with longing and the word mar'ecye came to mind again. His heaven was somewhere far from the never-ending wars, where he could be free of the constant doubts. It's just a ridiculous fantasy, he told himself.
"Luke's better off than we were," he said to Fox. "He's no one's slave." That's what his parents would want for him, Rex thought and it was a small comfort.
"Is that what you think we are?" Fox asked. Rex remembered Cut asking a similar question what seemed like a lifetime ago.
"I didn't always. I thought our freewill made us different. But I'm not so sure we have that anymore."
"You could always make Coric's choice," Fox reminded him.
"Coric didn't have a choice," Rex answered bitterly. "He killed himself because he couldn't live with the guilt for actions he assumed were his own." Rex poured himself another drink before he spoke again, his voice low and heavy with old pain. "You know what happened on Umbara—what we did on Krell's orders."
"You killed your own brothers." Fox didn't say it accusingly, but solemnly.
"We did," Rex fought to keep his voice level. "Some of my men couldn't live with that. They might not have taken blasters to their own heads, but they just stopped fighting and let the tinnies get them. They thought pulling the trigger made them culpable, orders or no orders. Dying that way was the only escape they had."
"Guilt like that never goes away," Fox said, nodding in agreement. When he lifted his glass to his lips the bluish liquid trembled.
"I guess you know that too," Rex said softly. "I hated you for what happened to Fives, and you damn well knew it. We always had disagreements, but after that day I could barely call you my brother. You let me believe it had been as easy for you as following any other order." Fox wouldn't meet his brother's eyes.
"If you knew what happened on Umbara," Rex pushed, "then you knew of all the brothers I could…" Rex was cut off by the kitchen doors slamming against the wall as they flew open.
Dul's wooden leg cracked hard against the floor and the disfigured clone charged across the bar with more speed than Rex thought possible. He slammed both hands, flesh and metal, down on the table with a tremendous bang. The bottle of moonshine toppled over and gushed liquid as it rolled.
"What in the galaxy have you two done, Rex?" He growled out in his coarse voice, his bright, red eyestalk swiveling between the two men.
"What that kark are you talking about?" Fox asked.
"I'm talking about that Hutt's place going up like it was slagged from orbit an hour ago?"
"What?" Rex asked, dumbfounded.
"Qibbu's place?" Fox asked, not entirely sure why he was supposed to care.
"Yeah," Dul growled and fumbled with his pocket for a datapad. He slammed it on the table and a hollo projection flickered to life overtop the device. It resolved into the grainy image of the façade of Qibbu's establishment and sparse traffic passing it on the shadowed sidewalk. A familiar figure walked into the view of the camera, moving with singular purpose toward the door.
"Nasis?" Rex breathed.
The former cop walked into the grungy bar. A few seconds later the hollo projection exploded. The entire view shuddered, and smoke, like a solid writhing organism, condensed where the bar and the small image of Nasis used to be.
"It wasn't us!" Fox snapped.
"I have a hard time believing you've got nothing to do with it." Dul backed up the recording until the tinny figure of Nasis came out of the bar backward and down the sidewalk. For a moment his jacket flapped open as he walked. Dul scrolled on the pad and the image enlarged until Rex and Fox could make out the dets strapped to man's chest like a life-vest.
"Frak!" Fox cursed.
"Shab," Rex whispered. Not again, he thought. When did the world go crazy? Or better yet, when did I? He picked up the bottle and poured out the little liquid trapped in the bottom. He knocked it back knowing it wouldn't help.
"Nasis blew up Qibbu's bar?" Fox asked.
"Why?" Rex demanded of no one in particular while Fox rationalized.
"That doesn't make sense. Qibbu was the one paying him. We haven't even given-over the second half of the codes. Even if the Hutt was planning on shorting him, Nasis wouldn't know that yet."
"The Underworld is already buzzing," Dul growled. "So far no one knows who or why. If it erupts into a gang war it could mean a lot of bodies will be dropping down turbo chutes around here in the next few days. If the Slimy-Hutt is really gone that means a whole part of the market has opened up and there are a lot of interested parties vying for a piece. It's gonna be madness in this whole sector because of this!"
"Naasi'bac!" Rex cut in, forget that! "Nasis wouldn't do that!"
"He did! You've made your usual mess, Rex," Dul muttered. "This isn't one I can clean up." Dul swiped his datapad off the table and stormed off, his peg leg banging out his anger against the floor. The old clone retreated behind the bar and slammed around bottles for a minute in a mockery of cleaning. He stopped suddenly, dropping the rag in his hands, and his shoulders sagged exhaustedly. Rex gritted his teeth and looked away.
"He's scared," Fox said.
"This is his world and he has to live in it, alone," Rex answered. Unlike us, he added as an afterthought. He never thought he'd be happy to be sitting across from Fox, but it was better than sitting alone. "There's nothing we can do about it."
"All we can do now is wait."
"Waiting was never one of my strong suits either," Rex sighed and tipped the bottle over his glass again, but nothing came out. He frowned at it and set it back down. Fox slid out of the booth and straightened his fatigues a little uncomfortably.
"In answer to your question before," Fox said without looking at Rex, "I didn't need your forgiveness"
"For Fives?" Rex asked. Fox nodded with on sharp jerk of his chin. Rex smirked ruefully. "You didn't need it or you didn't feel like you deserved it?" he asked. Fox's shoulders stiffed ever so slightly, something Rex might not have seen if his brother had been wearing armor.
"Contact me if anything happens," Fox didn't wait for Rex to reply before he started across the bar.
"Fox," Rex called to him and his brother paused. "For once, I understand you." It was as close to forgiveness as Rex could get. Fox meet his gaze evenly then turned and left without another word.
Rex leaned back in his seat. The world really has gone crazy, he thought, and I'm just along for the ride. Did I always have this little control over my fate or was I just unaware of it? He wondered. Maybe I just trusted the people holding my life more back then. His life now rested in the hands of Doctor Tahmina Orsa. His arm prickled with the ghostly feeling of her fingers' bruising grip and the cold needle against the inside of his elbow. Rex shuddered and picked up the moonshine bottle. To his disappointment it was still empty.
.
Author's Note: Ok… so yeah. That was the chapter. It took way too long to get that out. Damn writers block! Damn depression sapping all my inspiration! (sigh) I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter will hopefully be up sooner this time... but I make no promises. –Em.