Vode An arc

Nightmares II

Echo opened the barracks door to the darkness of the barracks lit only by the emergency light above him and a few console lights. He pulled off his helmet and leaned his head back with a low grunt of exhaustion. He'd been night duty deck officer for Admiral Yularen on the bridge, first shift. He groaned in exhaustion and turned his head, hearing the tight muscles pop in the back of his neck. He'd thought the captain could be a hard taskmaster, but he had nothing on the soft-voiced admiral.

Every drill that Echo had seen in the manuals, every drill that others had warned him about, every drill that he could possibly imagine had been presented.

And then some.

Drills no one had thought of, drills consecutive or concurrent, consecutive and concurrent. Radio silence, damaged ship, a spy aboard, classified mission, diplomats aboard, bio-terrorism … every possible scenario had been explored and just when Echo thought he'd won, the admiral would add something with the words 'A new development has occurred'.

Slowly, Echo grinned in the dark. At the end of duty, the admiral had looked at him with piercing eyes and gravely spoke two rare words of praise. "Well done."

As far as Echo knew, those two particular words hadn't crossed Admiral Yularen's lips since the 501st had volunteered men for bridge training on the Resolute.

Echo slipped his helmet into the armor lock and removed the rest of his armor, running a soft cloth over the plates before locking each one onto its grid. He was proud of the strips. With Chopper's help he'd done an excellent job. He glanced at Fives' armor in lock. Beautiful. Chopper had helped there also. They'd chosen a design to commemorate Hevy and would be adding that to their shoulder bells. Echo had decided he would ask Chopper for any advice on freehand application. He pulled off the body glove and slipped on some night shorts to make a run to the showers, carrying his small pack of items with him.

Nothing much had changed when Echo returned. Chopper was curled up rather than on his side and there was a blue flicker from the console. Echo glanced enough to see it was a message for Fives. Hardly unusual, Fives was popular with people for sparring or sabacc or merely sitting in the mess telling stories over caf. Right now he was training with Coric in the medical unit. Echo smiled, pleased with his brother. Fives would make a great sergeant one day, and he'd be proud to be Fives' number two.

There was a small sound, a whimper, from Chopper's bunk and Echo glanced at the bunk. Chopper was curled up, his knees drawn almost to his chest. His arms were raised, covering his head, his hands almost at the back of his neck clenched in tight fists with white knuckles.

Echo sighed; it looked like another nightmare. Chopper had them many nights. Sometimes, there would be a spate of nights where Chopper only slept, but more often there were the nightmares. Screaming nightmares, crying nightmares, nightmares filled with whimpers, or shouts. There were the hard ones, when Chopper shouted some trooper's name. Echo knew they were all dead; Tane, Digger, Kyp, Haz…

Captain Rex knew, or at least suspected. It was why the three men had three different shifts, why Chopper so often volunteered for an off-shift or a night shift. Still, Echo had seen three of the nightmares; two where Chopper's screams woke himself and he sat quickly, then turned away from Echo as if daring him to make a comment. Echo had spoken with Fives to discover that Fives had also seen Chopper jerk awake with a cry on his lips then angrily, stonily, turn away without a word of explanation.

"Not that an explanation is needed," said Fives. "I told the captain that Chopper had nightmares and his response was 'I'm not surprised.' Not surprised, Echo. Can you imagine what Chopper has gone through for the captain to be 'not surprised' at nightmares?"

And Echo couldn't; because they were troopers and they'd been flash-drilled to not have nightmares.

Echo glanced again at Chopper, observing his clenched jaw, the tears running down his face, and shook his head. This was going to be a bad one. Chopper would scream and jerk away, trembling. Then he would look down at his shaking hands and steel himself to show nothing. He might stand and move out the door. Echo knew he usually went to the 'freshers, standing in a shower then in wet nightclothes. Once he'd been gone for hours and returned with blood-soaked gloves. Echo heard that one of the practice droids had been broken through overuse and Chopper apologized then cleaned his handprint from the bar of the bunk the next day. He hadn't noticed it in the night, thinking that wetness was sweat.

Chopper jerked, as if he'd been hit by a blaster. A low moan rolled from his throat and his breathing started coming faster. His hands moved from their protective position, still fisted, and started hitting the wall against the bunk. Echo saw the small indent, a hollow space in the wall, where the metal of the Resolute had given way to flesh and bone and nightmare.

"Aw, Chopper," sighed Echo as he moved closer to Chopper's bunk, wishing there was something he could do.

Hollow grunts became sobs, the punching fists stilled but Chopper's head jerked forward. He'd scream in a moment and Echo wished he was still on the bridge with the admiral. He wished he were somewhere else so Chopper could know that no one had heard him. He wished he were somewhere else so Chopper wouldn't hang his head in shame.

The scream came, ragged in Chopper's cries. "Tane! Tane!" Chopper jerked up, sitting, shivering in his bed. For a moment he thought he was alone. Then he realized there was someone behind him, a body with his head against Chopper's back and an arm loosely around Chopper's arms and chest. On instinct he grabbed the arm with both his hands, one hand at the wrist, one at the elbow; prepared to wrestle his unknown assailant to the ground. The arm remained relaxed. He could feel the other hand gentle on his shoulder, light, barely touching.

"It's ok, Chopper. Just Echo." Chopper felt the head moved from his back and from the corner of his eye Chopper saw Echo, behind him, lean his head and back against the wall.

Chopper was still, stiff with … what? Anger? Shame?

Hut'tuun. Coward.

"Shut up, Slick," said Chopper to that voice in his head.

"Not Slick, Chopper. Just Echo."

After an eternity, Chopper's hands on Echo's arm released the tight grip to relax slightly. Chopper half turned toward Echo, avoiding his eyes, avoiding looking at him. Chopper buried his head in Echo's shoulder. Echo's arm came pulled him into a slightly more comfortable position then he pulled his own legs up to the bars of the bunk for support and relaxed against the wall.

Chopper neither slept nor cried, but when Echo made to move, Chopper gave a small shake of his head and tightened his hands around Echo's arm. Echo stayed the remainder of the night, his free arm around Chopper's scarred shoulders.

His arm is around me, his hand on my scars and he doesn't call me coward. He offers comfort, Slick. He offers friendship, Slick.

He doesn't know you like I know you, hut'tuun Chopper. Slick retorted.

Echo had offered friendship as had Fives. He'd have to offer friendship in return. but he couldn't offer friendship under false pretenses. He'd have to let them know about Slick, about the court martial, about everything that had gone Before.

Soon, he promised himself, but not just yet.

In spite of the heat of Echo's body, Chopper burrowed closer to the other trooper.

Because they'll transfer once they know you, chuckled Slick. They'll see you're only three quarters a trooper. They will see the scars are your real face.

Chopper was scared Slick might be right. In spite of Fives' words and Echo's comfort, Chopper was afraid they would transfer once they knew he was a court-martialed coward, once they found out his flash-drills and his training had all seeped away onto dry Geonosian sand.

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