The clones avoided the paths they'd made between sentry posts, keeping to the heavier jungle on either side. More than once, they encountered small groups of Na'taves on the paths, lying in wait to try and catch any clones who had managed to escape from the outpost building.

The clones went on past these road blocks in relative silence, moving quietly without speaking, following one another single file, with the Sergeant taking the lead and Jac taking the rear. This served to keep the rookies in line, and prevent them from thinking too much about what they were doing. Though their numbers were few by normal standards, they still outnumbered the few Na'taves lining the paths, and their military hardware certainly outweighed that of the cat people.

But they had their orders. And probably with good reason. Jac had seen how quickly the Na'tave government could change hands. By morning, the Na'taves might well be allies. But not if the troopers slaughtered them. At least, he figured that was the logic behind their orders.

They could smell the smoke before they even reached the first sentry post.

"Dusty, you come with me. The rest of you stay here," the Sergeant ordered.

He didn't explain himself. Far as Jac was concerned, he didn't have to. The Sergeant was going to try and get the clones at the sentry post out. It was a delicate task, one he would probably have preferred Jac help him with. But Jac needed to stay here and keep the hot headed delinquents in check.

They looked like they might protest, but the Sergeant had mastered the "shut up and sit down" tone of voice. Nobody said a word as he and Dusty disappeared into the night, following the direction of the smoke. Overhead, the sky was taking on a sickly orange glow, a reflection of the burning down below.

Distantly, they could hear yelling of troopers, the yowling of Na'taves and the crackling of the hungry flames. There was some consolation in the fact that the rain forest was unlikely to catch fire. The fire would have to grow pretty strong to overwhelm the dampness which surrounded it. Aside from which, Jac doubted that the Na'taves would take it that far. If their precious trees began to smolder, they would probably cease their attack in favor of saving the forest.

Whatever their flaws, the Na'taves were not complete fools.

They waited, breathless in the dark, fighting the urge to get up and join the fight. Not even Jac was entirely immune to the relentless pull inside him, born either of genetics or training, he wasn't sure. Seconds turned to minutes. The minutes dragged forever. At last, Jac knew that no one would be coming out of the blaze. Even so, he waited a few more minutes, just in case. But he was not wrong.

"Let's move," he got up and headed out, and most of the troopers followed him.

They had known too that nobody was coming. But they'd been hoping they were in error, waiting for Jac's confirmation of their worst fears.

"You can't ask us to run," Bristler protested "clones don't run from a fight. It's not right. Who's with me?," he looked around, and saw that there were those among their ranks who shared his belief.

But nobody had the time to answer, because Jac whirled on him, drawing his blaster and pointing it.

"You want to die, Bristler?. I can arrange that. But I'll be damned if I let you take even one of these kids down with you. And you're sure as hell not going to violate our orders. Not on my watch,"

Bristler could hear in his voice that he meant it. Seeing he'd won, at least for now, Jac put his weapon away and took the lead through the dark. He wondered what his superiors would think of that particular tactic. He supposed that it didn't really matter right now. He could think about it later.

Jac had survived the scorching heat of the desert, the bitter chill of the dank caves, the ferocious beasts of the jungle and even the explosion of a ship in space. But now he was faced with something of which he had no knowledge, and had no idea how to cope with.

They had run across Na'tave hunters during the night. For the moment, they had given them the slip. But Na'taves were expert trackers, and it wouldn't be long before they caught up to the clones. Jac had decided to head for the relay station on the dark side of the planet, remembering vaguely that Na'taves avoided that side of the planet whenever possible.

But they were far from the usual path, traveling a section of forest Jac had never been in. At dawn, they had come to a rather serious obstacle. Stretched across their path as far as they could see in either direction was a body of water. It was this which brought Jac up short.

Strange to think that he, and all his brothers, found their origin on a planet composed almost entirely of water, and yet they had never been taught to swim. He understood the mechanics alright, but it had never been in his training. Virtually all of his training had been conducted indoors, never with the thought of his having to cross a river or lake. Clone troopers were meant to be deployed at a battle location via airship. They were certainly trained for endurance, but not with the thought of them having to travel great distances over varying terrain, but having to fight over the same.

"Now what?," Bristler demanded hotly.

Jac didn't respond at first, his mind struggling to recall everything he had learned about the nature of water. Those lessons were long ago, when he was still a child. As he got older, his training had become focused on shooting, strategy, piloting and the like. Science had simply been a basis for the latter part of his education. But he did realize that, even if they had practiced swimming with the same rigor as all other training exercises, they would still be carrying too much weight to make it across.

Trooper armor, considered light when compared to most other variations of the same, was actually quite heavy. And not even remotely buoyant. And there was also their ordnance to consider. They couldn't just leave it behind.

Aside from the very real possibility that they would need it, it also wasn't really theirs to abandon. Troops were responsible for the maintenance of their armor, firearms and other equipment, but it wasn't theirs to lose. They had abandoned the outpost because their orders gave them no other option, not if survival was to still be "on the menu". But they could not do the same with their equipment.

That equipment, they had been taught, was a privilege to use. It was the difference between life and death. Aside from the high crimes of direct disobedience and causing injury or death of a Jedi, there was no greater sin than to abuse, misuse or misplace military hardware. Or so they'd been taught.

"We need to look for a way across," Jac decided aloud "a place where it's narrower, or shallow,"

"I think we should stand and fight," Bristler argued.

"You're too young to think," Jac told him in a voice which was in equal measures impatient, reasonable, annoyed and matter-of-fact.

Bristler, pride thus wounded, went about looking for a shallow, narrow patch of water. He did so sulkily, which was how he wound up doing most things. The others were too far out of their element to put up protest, meekly following orders in the hopes of eventually finding themselves back in familiar territory, in more ways than one.

It wasn't long before one of the clones found the shallow water they were looking for. Or, at least, that's what they thought. The water was swift-moving, but only got up to their knees. Jac would have preferred to take his time in crossing, making careful progress, taking each step as though he had no idea what lay ahead. Unfortunately, he was denied that luxury.

He heard the Na'taves long before he saw them, beating the bushes to try and flush any clones who might be hiding. They had no choice but to cross, and be quick about it. If they didn't, they would be caught in the open and would be forced to choose between obedience and survival.

Halfway across, Jac's worst fears about the water were realized. The clone on point took a step forward and suddenly found himself in deep, strong current. He was almost immediately dragged under, and would have been swept away had not the trooper behind him reacted instantly, reaching out and grabbed his hand. The clone behind him took hold of his other hand to make sure he didn't get dragged under as well.

By now, the Na'taves had appeared on the shoreline. The clones were out of range, and the Na'taves clearly had no wish to enter the water, but they weren't worried. The Na'taves probably knew of the deep water, knew the clones were trapped out there. All they had to do was wait for the quarry to come to them or die out there in the frigid river.

"Got any more bright ideas, fearless leader?," Bristler asked Jac mockingly.

Jac didn't answer him. His mind was working hard on the problem, examining all the angles. No matter how he looked at it, it seemed that they were screwed. If they stayed out here, they were screwed. If they tried to cross, they were screwed. If they went back and faced the Na'taves, they were screwed.

But Jac didn't feel the resignation he had expected, or the fear which was warranted. Instead, an irrational anger welled up inside. He had not survived on this rotten planet so long just to die here. When he died, it damn well better not be on this wretched hunk of rock.

His determination thus restored, Jac waded out towards the deep water. After careful examination, he determined that there was a limit to the deep water, that there was more shallow on the other side.

"Form a line," Jac ordered "secure yourselves to the trooper in front of you,"

"Are you insane?," Bristler asked.

"Do as I say," Jac snapped.

Once they were secured to one another, Jac took the lead. Almost at once the current tried to sweep him away. But the line held. Jac floundered in the water for fully six minutes and in doing so swallowed more water than he normally drank in a week, but he made it across the deep patch.

Water logged and trembling with effort, he got his feet under him and then turned to brace himself. Once braced as well as he could, he called for the next trooper to cross. Because there was now a line all the way across, this second clone had a much easier time of it than Jac had.

One by one, they crossed, and then assisted the next one in line. Bristler, at the end of the line, was basically towed across.

The Na'taves, seeing this, became very agitated. They yowled angrily, and some even went so far as to put their feet in the water before leaping back, hissing. But they could do nothing. If they wanted the clones, they'd have to find a way around the water. They disappeared from the shoreline the moment the clones reached the other side.

On the far shore, Jac and a some others coughed up water for a few minutes. Then they pushed on.