Stand Up Be Counted With All the Rest

Can't you see it?
Can't you feel it?
It's all in the air
I can't stand the pressure much longer
Somebody say a prayer

'Mississippi Goddam' – Nina Simone

It was festive.

Of all the things Fives' expected to see during a protest, music and dancing were not among them. They'd come to observe, and with three men of identical height, stature and face, they'd broken up to wander around. Fives was pacing around the perimeter of the landing areas, trying to gather the courage to venture further in. It was a lot of people who were not brothers; one of the largest non-military crowds he'd seen in his short life, and the mix of hopeful defiance and celebration was somewhat intimidating.

The sound of repeated, chanting slogans began to rise up from deeper in the crowd, taken up by neighbors. Feet began to stomp and hands began to clap as voices were raised, the tune drifting overhead and mingling with the smells of profit-hunting food vendors taking advantage of the gathering. The chant was catching. Fives found himself nodding along to it. A couple of speeders raced overhead, slogans painted on flags streaming out the windows. Some journalists were huddled nearby, hovercams buzzing around their heads as they reported the goings on. Local police patrolled the edges of the crowd, expressions mildly watchful, benign.

The people of Ghorman were supportive of the Empire. They, like many, had been relieved by the formation of the Empire, and the peace it was promising to deliver.

Then the taxes came. To people already being drained from the Clone War years, the crushingly high levels of taxation were an added burden. Though the Empire continued to reassure them their money was going to relief funding, the people saw no such assistance themselves. Economies stalled, jobs disappeared, money seemed to be funneled only away from their world rather than towards it.

Discontent began to rise, but hope for a peaceful future was still strong. And so they assembled peacefully.

People of varied species would occasionally drift past him, sometimes away, but usually towards the protesters. The crowd was slowly but steadily swelling. He took a deep breath and straightened up, trying to find a good entry spot. He didn't want to get in too close to the actual landing platforms. Governor Tarkin was expected to arrive, and he didn't want to be too close to the soldiers that would inevitably arrive with him. He needed to be just another face in the crowd.

This was one of the few visible signs of discontent beginning to bubble up from the fall of the Republic. What happened here could signal the way the Empire would handle future diplomatic doctrine.

Fives edged his way around the crowd, ducking a large man wielding an oversized musical instrument. It seemed a little bizarre to him. This could turn very ugly once troops landed. He supposed the people here didn't have reason to suspect the Empire. Not yet, at least.

There was a tap on his shoulder.

He spun, hand dropping towards his blaster. The woman who had startled him leapt back, datapad clutched to her chest, eyes wide. He grimaced and relaxed. In turn, so did she.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you," she apologized, looking a little nervous, then straightened as she launched into what sounded like an often-repeated speech. "I'm getting signatures for the petition to our Senator." She shoved the datapad at him. "Could you sign?"

"Uh?" Fives said, staring at her offered datapad rather stupidly for a moment. Of course he couldn't sign, even if he wanted to.

She saw his hesitation, and plowed forward, stepping closer and causing him to back up, trying not to trip into one of the other people wandering past. "It's alright if you don't live on-world." She gave him a critical eye. "Spacer, huh? Freighter work, by the looks of you. If you come through Ghorman often, it would be helpful for you too. More money in the pockets of the citizens means more work for you as well." She pressed the datapad at him again. "They're talking about closing down more of the durasteel mills, which means striking in protest by everybody not losing their jobs. If you haul durasteel cargo or any of the related products, you should think about it." The determined look faded a little, and her tone became plaintive. "It's not much, but it would mean a lot to the people here. We're not getting much support. Jobs are all being outsourced."

Then she gave him the big eyes.

Fives blinked. They were very big eyes, and very green. She had a small, upturned nose, with little brownish dapples on it. His mouth went dry and he tried to talk. "You have spots on your face."

Her hopeful look disappeared, and she said, "Huh?" suddenly bewildered. She reached up with a hand and rubbed her face, then checked her fingers. "What? Where?" She patted her face again, looking confused.

Stupid, half-witted d'kutla idiot! Fives tried to get his mouth and brain to start working again. "Nose?" came out. He smacked a hand into his forehead. Such excellent conversational skills!

She blinked at him a couple times. Her nose wrinkled, her head tilted to the side, and she looked at his rapidly reddening face. Her eyes widened a little.

"You mean my freckles?" she asked, turning slightly pink. Fives stared. What was going on? She was smiling at him now. Was she laughing at him? Stupid, stupid! Her lips puckered together, and she waved a hand past his face. "Are you okay?"

He nodded several times, quickly. Keep mouth closed. Perhaps it was time for a strategic retreat?

Then she said, sounding a little shy, "I'm Behri. Behri Mokusei."

Strategic retreat –halted. He gaped. She shook her head, still smiling, lifting a brow and drawling, "It's usually polite to give your name back, mister smooth."

"CT…" He mumbled, trailing off. He did have a name. Names were good. Names were normal, numbers were not. "Fives." He tried to resist the urge to bang his head into something. Fives is a number too, idiot! Fives…Fives… pick a kriffing name! "Tano?" She was giving him a skeptical look. "Fives Tano." It was good to have a functional brain again. She must think he was a complete dithering idiot.

She was giving him a curious kind of smile, and he tried to focus on that instead of get dizzy. Unfortunately, it just seemed to make it worse. This was the first time he'd been this close to a female who was not the Commander, and she was the Commander, so she didn't count. She was also considerably shorter and skinnier than Behri, who was able to look him straight in the face and seemed a whole lot more female. He resisted the urge to physically smack himself. Head up, eyes back at her face, and pay attention soldier.

"So," she began slowly, a little sly, "you going to sign my petition or not?" He winced. She looked a little troubled, frowned. "Hey, it's okay." She looked at him thoughtfully again, up and down, then tucked the datapad closer to her. She leaned in and asked, quietly, "Smuggler?" Apparently his continued look of discomfort gave her enough of an answer. Still frowning, she seemed to be taking his measure yet again. Carefully, she added, "I do appreciate your coming out to support everyone here today, if that's all you can do."

He nodded, not really trusting himself to say something intelligent.

"I work at the Red Pond Cafe near the durasteel mills. We make a mean cup of caf. Well, if you like it thick as sludge and black, anyway. Most of the workers do."

She was looking a little embarrassed, and giving him a hesitant smile. His brain switched back on long enough to realize she was extending some kind of invitation. "I like caf."

Well, that wasn't completely brilliant, but at least he managed to string together three coherent words. She seemed to be taking an awful lot of long, hard looks at him. He shifted uncomfortably.

Behri took in a deep breath and said, "Or you can help me find more names." She was standing square, datapad clutched in her arms, looking almost defiant. Her face was red. "Penance. For not signing." She bit her lip, her head lowered, and she seemed to be trying to look at him through her lashes, a little awkward again, as though she'd run out of some daring.

It hit him like a stampeding bantha. She was trying to flirt with him.

He had to tell Echo. He'd be so jealous.

He tried to calm down and keep himself from saying more stupid things or grabbing someone and dancing around. He was talking to a woman, and she was talking back, and she was flirting him. It was a little intimidating, but he knew the right response. "I can help?" It came out sounding more nervous than he wanted, but less exultant than he was afraid of.

Behri's eyes rounded, then she beamed and nodded a little. "Okay." She turned slightly, then paused, waiting for him. As he stepped up, she began to lead on. "So, Fives. You must travel a lot?"

His smile was so bright it could have powered the city.

(Lord have mercy on this land of mine
We all gonna get it in due time
I don't belong here
I don't belong there
I've even stopped believing in prayer)

Behri seemed to know half the crowd. The half she didn't, she got to know, and Fives found himself being introduced to large numbers of people from more walks of life than he'd ever known existed. Most of them were blue-collar workers, laborers the unions called out to support the protest. Taxes weren't just being applied to daily necessities such as food imports – heavy taxes of raw materials coming into the planet were making it hard for companies to buy the weight they needed to produce enough high-quality refined durasteel. It meant less work, and eventually more layoffs.

Different people pressed food on him, and after a couple hours of walking around, he began to understand the bright atmosphere. Behri generally introduced him as a small time freight runner, working independently. People saw him as an average laborer not unlike themselves, and was welcomed in. They were supporting each other in the hard times, hoping to support each other in the hard times to come – and avoid those hard times if possible. And so friends and even families gathered, calling for change.

The more he walked around, the more he liked Behri. She was open, friendly in a way he wasn't used to with those who were not brothers, and talked passionately about changing things peacefully, now that the Empire had ended the war. He bit his tongue repeatedly, as she talked about the changes the Empire could bring. He'd wanted to believe the Empire was just another name for the Republic in the beginning. The months since he'd left had changed his mind too thoroughly. He worried for his brothers. Behri would be disappointed in her dreams. He only hoped heavy taxes were the worst these people suffered.

It was the likes of her that he and his brothers had fought for. Good people who wanted good lives. He was happy to meet some of them. This was who they fought and bled for. Maybe there hadn't been much choice about it, but these people were worth protecting. People – brothers and ordinary folk – deserved to be happy.

"Thank you," Behri was saying, taking her datapad back from a woman who had just signed. She smiled at Fives, then looked over her list. "We've gotten a lot of names. I really hope this helps."

"Me too," he replied, skeptical, but hoping for her sake. The crowd seemed to be much like her. Hopeful for the future. It was remaining calm if festive. They'd wandered further in, into the bottleneck of streets that led to the landing platforms, and there were competing protest slogans being bandied back and forth, almost like a competition to see who could be louder.

"Do you want to take a break? Find somewhere to sit?" she asked, looking around, peering through the mass of bodies.

Fives tried to think of what next. The day was wearing on, and he should check in soon. He strained upward and spotted an empty area off to a side near an intersection. "This way."

Behri reached out and grabbed the crook of his arm, ducking around people as he led. As they headed towards the wall, a wave seemed to move through the crowd, catching their attention and giving them pause. They turned and looked up. A large transport ship hovered in the air, almost uncertainly, visible above the rooftops. Heat rippled from exhaust vents below, and a burst of warmth moved across the area.

"That must be Governor Tarkin's ship," Behri said, excitedly, shaking his arm a little as she bounced in place. "The landing platforms are covered in people. That's got to catch some notice. They'll have to pay some attention to us now."

Fives didn't know much about Tarkin. He did know he shouldn't be close to the landing platforms when they did eventually touch down. The last thing he needed was to be recognized as a clone. And a clone in civvies was likely a deserter or traitor. He shuddered at the thought. Behri turned towards him, feeling him tense.

"Are you alright?"

He looked at her, then the hovering ship. If they landed and she was with him if he got caught, she could be in trouble. "I've got to go."

"What? Why? This is what we've been waiting for."

Fives was trying not to look at her, and instead was watching the hovering ship. Some bad feeling began to roll through his gut. Why weren't they finding another platform to land on? A clear platform to land on? His brothers piloting that thing weren't so inefficient. "Behri," he said, grabbing her hand and beginning to tug her away, coherent thought not fully formed, only a rising sense of dread. "Behri?"

"What? Fives, what are you doing? Where are we going?" He pulled. Something was wrong. Were they going to open fire? "Fives, stop it, we're going the wrong way!" She tried to yank her hand back, but he had it in a hard grip and was hauling her along, pushing past people.

The crowd was surging forward, everyone standing. Fists pumped in the air, and the various chants began to merge into one. Voices roiled like thunder down the platforms, down the streets, across the plaza they emerged back into, vibrating off the walls of buildings, pounding, pounding.

Then the ship descended.

The chant became a hundred screams, punctuating a sudden, gasping silence.

It began almost slowly, as here and there, people began to turn, to run. Then the hundred screams became several thousand, and a flood of shrieks swelled upward. The crowd broke into a mob; chaos and fear took over, everyone running wildly. Some rushed forward, out of the plaza and down the street toward the platforms. Others rushed away, funneling through the streets, desperately trying to escape. Bodies slammed into each other. The ground vibrated under the sudden rush of stampeding feet.

There was no shyness now. He pulled her against him, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pushed her head down, keeping them in step as they ran. Behri was screaming something incoherent with each stride forward, an arm slung around his back as she huddled against him. She stumbled and he kept her up, kept them from being trampled. He shoved a shoulder forward, using his weight to muscle through knots. They kept running. Hovercams sped past them in the air. Distantly, he hoped this was being beamed galaxy-wide, live.

His communicator was going off. Ahsoka's voice was calling, "Fives? Fives! I know you're alive, come in!"

"Go for Fives, half klick east of platform, heading out."

"Fall back to the breakfast cafe. We'll regroup and bang out. Echo?"

"Not with me. On my way!"

There was a hum from above. Police in riot gear were speeding in on hoverbikes. He hoped they were there to help channel people out rather than work containment. He ducked down, brought them around a corner. The tide of people was dispersing as they got further into the city. He could hear Behri crying. Sirens were wailing in the distance, and they kept moving, though more slowly.

"I dropped my datapad," she said numbly. "I dropped it. Someone stepped on it. Nothing, it was all for nothing. They weren't even going to listen…" her voice rose and broke into a sob.

"Come on," he urged quietly. She nodded, followed along in silence, didn't let him go.

It seemed like a different day when the four of them set out that morning. The café was still open, though the few tables outside were empty. People were watching a holonet report inside. The alarmed reporter was shouting about potential casualties and speculating there had been some sort of malfunction in the ship – deliberate landing on top of unarmed civilians was unthinkable.

He pulled her into the alley beside the restaurant. She turned in toward him, buried her face in his shoulder, and he found himself pressed against a cloud of strawberry colored hair. Her voice rose in confused litany. "They did it on purpose. They did it on purpose. Why? I don't understand. I don't understand! Why did they do this?"

Awkwardly, he tried to pat her back, looking in the direction they came. The men on the ship had to know what they'd just done. Fresh anger rose. Who had ordered this? Tarkin. Behri said the man coming was named Tarkin. They weren't even a military target. His brothers had been ordered to crush civilians. Did that man think intimidating civilians was going to get obedience? He grit his teeth. Why not? Intimidating his brothers got obedience.

Behri was still crying, but there was anger there now, too. She was shaking, not just out of fear, but fury. Her hands went over her face. "I had friends there. They won't get away with this. They won't get away with this! They did it on purpose! That was a controlled landing, and they did it on purpose!"

"Behri, you have to quiet down," Fives began, but was cut off.

"Quiet? Quiet! I will not be quiet!" she wiped at her eyes. She looked frantic. "They…you saw what they did! I know a lot of the people there, a lot of them come in to work at lunch! I serve them food! I don't know who was on the platform, but they were people, and they just…they just landed, like they weren't even there!" Her hands dug into her hair, then pressed against her mouth, dried her eyes, covered her face. "Landed like they were nothing."

"The Empire does not like people who disagree with them. You have got to get quiet. You can't fight them by yourself." He shook her lightly. "Calm down and think. If they're willing to do that to anyone, think of them doing it to you, too."

She scowled at him momentarily, looked down, but nodded. She sniffled once, wiped at her face again. It was blotchy and red. She made herself small, shoulders hunching together, head ducking down. She twisted her hands into the fabric of her long skirt. Her voice was brittle, and she leaned against him, seeking some human contact as reassurance. "Thank you. For getting me out of there."

"You're welcome." He found himself reddening again as he cautiously held her, and tried to fight off the nerves, excitement of the feeling, jumbled in with everything else. This wasn't the time.

"Fives!" an identical voice called out, and he looked up to see the Captain and the Commander heading across the street to join them. He looked down the street. Another figure was jogging steadily their way. Echo.

Behri was wide eyed, looking between him and Rex. Her head was angled to the side, curiously, a finger slowly raising, to move between the two of them. Her brow furrowed. "Twins?" she asked, sounding uneasy.

He exchanged a glance with Rex, then with the Commander, who was moving forward as though to intervene. "Hello," she began quickly, but was interrupted by Echo's arrival.

Behri drew backward, looking from Fives to Rex to Echo. She was growing slowly alarmed. Her mouth opened to say something, then closed as she pulled back on herself, paling. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "I have to go," she said abruptly, backing away.

"Wait," Fives started, but felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. Rex shook his head. Behri had turned and was hurrying off. He felt a smaller hand pat his other shoulder, and looked down to see Ahsoka giving him a sympathetic look. He sighed, watched her turn at the end of the street and look back for a long moment, green eyes meeting his, the expression on her face unreadable in its distress.

Then she broke into a run.

(Oh but this whole country is full of lies
You're all gonna die and die like flies
- I don't trust you anymore!)

Fives was moping.

He didn't really like moping, but he couldn't cheer up either. The events on Ghorman were disturbing and depressing in a great many ways, some more personal than others. He worried about his brothers on the ship. He worried about the people he met earlier that day. He worried about Behri.

They'd all been following reports. They'd been confused at first, but were settling down. Hundreds of casualties and injuries.

A cup of caf appeared on the table. "If you're going to be up all night, you might as well get some caffeine in you," Ahsoka said as she set it down, seating herself on the chair beside him. "You going to be alright?"

"You think the brothers on that ship are alright?"

Ahsoka's eyes lowered. "No."

He hung his head. "No wonder people think we're no better than droids."

"You are not a droid," she snapped. He glared at the cup of caf.

"She was scared of me. Of us. When she saw us. She knew."

Ahsoka was giving him a careful look. "I don't know. She was scared, but I don't think it was of you. Or Rex or Echo. She was in shock."

He scowled at the table. "Brothers would have been piloting that thing, and it was dropped onto her people from the sky."

He ran his hands though his unkempt hair. It had grown shaggy in the months since desertion. Ahsoka set a hand onto his shoulder, leaned forward, and gave him a light peck on his temple. He froze, then looked up at her as she stood. She was smiling benignly down at him. It was a strange sight. Familial, almost maternal in nature. Echo once said Ahsoka was like a little sister. A little sister who could pull rank and do freaky things with her mind. Fives had never quite gotten that feeling until now. Sisterly. Though perhaps not a younger one.

"You did good, Fives. Be glad of that, at least," she said, then headed into the galley. Slowly, he felt himself begin to calm. He did have brothers up here. Ones who were safe. And some sort of powerful, bossy sister looking out for him. They were doing what they could. It was why they were there that day. Their recordings of what was being broadcasted from Ghorman would be sent with the rest of their reports back to Alderaan. Even if the Empire did try to cover up the massacre, word would get out. It was something. Maybe not what he wanted, but it was something. Behri had been angry. She wouldn't want a cover up. He could help prevent that.

Rex walked into the room, barefoot and in the loose clothes he wore as pajamas. He was sipping the dregs from a cup of caf. He stepped up behind Ahsoka, lightly placed his hand on the small of her back. She turned a little, then angled aside, letting him put his mug into the sink. Echo emerged from the cockpit, wandering through and stretching his arms over his head, announcing, "I sent the signal on to Alderaan. I'm going to crash. 'Night everyone."

Fives twisted enough in his seat to watch all this. Familial. His family. Not just thousands of brothers, but a small family, a unit. Even after tragedy, life still somehow went on, absurdly normal in most ways. It wasn't altogether different from after battle. Get back, get comfortable, get fixed up, get some food, try to sort themselves out. He wondered if the people on Ghorman were doing the same. They had to be. Life went on.

He had held a girl's hand today, for the first time. In spite of everything, it was one small bit of happiness. An experience so many brothers didn't ever have.

"Good night," Rex and Ahsoka chorused back, then seemed to exchange a glance. Rex shrugged and gestured, Ahsoka's lekku made a small twitch. She headed out of the room and he began putting glasses into their small washer.

Fives lowered his eyes and turned away.

Shorter version of Fives this chapter: Can't. Brain. Girl. Pretty. Heroics! XD

We never really get to see any of the clones interact with normal girls much, so I really wanted a chapter where at least one of them gets to. At this point, Echo and Fives are probably only around twelve-thirteen years old, Rex probably a year older. I can't imagine them having many opportunities to talk to females not in the military (Ahsoka), or involved in their training somehow (teachers or technicians). Possibly a few civilians, but even then probably not often or in a normal setting. Behri, of course, is an OC.

I wanted to do a chapter involving a protest, and while researching on the Wookiepedia, I discovered the Ghorman Massacre, which echoes the events of Tiananmen Square. There were limited details on Ghorman and the massacre itself, so a good deal of this is made up, but Tarkin landing his ship on top of peaceful protesters on Ghorman is canon. The song Mississippi Goddam was written by Nina Simone in response to the murder of Medgar Evers and the 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing of 1963.

As always,

~Queen