Jac felt sure he'd done more walking on this planet than all the other walking he'd done in the rest of his life combined. Crossing vast distances in relatively short periods of time, always doing so in a state of quiet desperation, fighting to survive. He was getting tired of it.

More than that, he was getting tired of leading rookies by the hand. It seemed like they never quite whining. They kept trying to think and have their own ideas, but had not the wisdom born of experience to come up with any good ones, nor the born-in intelligence for it either.

He wondered if he'd been that stupid when he was a rookie. He supposed that he probably had been. After all, he was a clone, just like any other. Still, he couldn't recall ever being so contrary.

For a time, a small flock of Eglamorks flew alongside them, following them curiously and perhaps looking to peck at Bristler, the one clone they hadn't formed a truce with. But Jac kept Bristler in the middle of the group. Not out of reach exactly, but the Eglamorks would have to go after more clones than Bristler to get to him. They weren't willing to do that.

Animals have got more sense than people. They fight for what's theirs and then leave it at that. People always want more than that. Maybe they just like fighting for the sake of it.

This thought brought him uneasily to something he normally avoided thinking about. After the war, when all the fighting was done, what happened to him and those like him?. They didn't know how to be farmers or politicians. They weren't inventors or painters. They had no real skills or purpose other than war. It's what they'd been bred for.

When it was all over, would it be the end for them as well?. Would they simply fade away?. Or would they become as the new enemy, killing and fighting for the sake of it, in the end destroying themselves for lack of purpose?.

You've spent too much time walking, Jac. You're starting to think about things you shouldn't and asking questions you're better off not knowing the answers to.

At the same time as the clones were crossing the river, Anakin and Ahsoka were flying over the rain forest in an airship. The outpost had been literally burned to the ground. Smoke curled up out of the trees at several other points, presumably sentry posts. The mine was a mass of rocks and rubble.

The only troopers they could get on the radio were the clones of the relay station on the dark side of the planet. Anakin wanted to look for survivors, but so far they'd had no luck. The trees were just too thick. If there were clones alive down there, he couldn't see them.

Hopefully, any survivors would be making their way to the relay station. On arrival, Anakin had contacted the Na'tave government. A brief conversation with Bailesh, right hand to Meisheb, revealed that the Na'tave leader had no idea that her people were actively attacking the clones. She knew, of course, that there was dispute over them, but she had not expected this.

Bailesh had assured him that the Na'tave military would be mobilized and would put a stop to the rogues. Any clones found alive would be promptly reported so that the Republic could reclaim them. Further, Meisheb understood and even condoned the Republic's withdrawal from her planet. She could not expect them to guard people who obviously did not wish to be protected.

"All nice and neat," Ahsoka commented to Anakin "Absolving herself of all responsibility,"

"Sound political strategy. Keep the people happy, and avoid provoking the Republic. You can bet we'll be back to fight here again," Anakin shook his head, sighing wearily "I hate having to rescue the same planet twice,"

Captain Rex, though present, kept his thoughts to himself. He usually did. If he was angry about what had happened to his brothers on the planet, he didn't show it. If one had looked closely, they would have detected a faint look of relief in his eyes when Anakin told the relay station that they had permission to defend themselves.

And one didn't have to listen closely to detect the same relief in the voice of the clone manning the radio at the relay station when he heard that he had permission to defend himself and his base of operations. For him, and the others in the station, life had suddenly returned to comfortable normalcy. They had no fear of danger, especially not now that they were allowed to fight back.

Curving toward the relay station, the airship swept across the same body of water Jac and the others had crossed earlier. It wasn't long before those on the airship had a clear view of the survivors below. Except they didn't look like they'd survive much longer.

They had been driven to cover by Na'tave rogues blocking their path and firing on them. The Na'taves were closing the distance because the clones were doing nothing to drive them back. Indeed, they made no move to defend themselves at all, though one had already been killed and lay in the open.

"They must not have gotten the message," Ahsoka said "Rex, tell them to fight back,"

Rex did as asked, using his radio. He got through, but his orders went flatly ignored. Even when the Na'taves came around the rock the clones had been using as cover, they did little more than back away slowly. They had weapons, but they weren't using them.

"Dammit, we're not close enough yet," Anakin fumed.

"General," Rex spoke hesitantly "they obviously won't listen to me, but.. they wouldn't dare ignore your orders. The orders of a Jedi and a General,"

"Assuming any of them would recognize my voice," Anakin sighed "I'll give it a shot," into his radio he shouted "troopers, return fire!. Defend your position!,"

There was instant reaction on the ground. A single trooper dropped to one knee and raised his rifle. His first shot was all the encouragement his brethren needed to employ their own weapons. The Na'tave rogues scattered, diving for cover.

Thirty seconds later, Anakin and Ahsoka hit the ground. The airship moved on to the relay station, and the reinforcements went with it. Seeing that they were now facing Jedi, the Na'tave rogues were quick to retreat, disappearing into the rocky forest.

"We appreciate the change of orders, General Skywalker,"

Anakin turned, and was surprised to recognize the clone who had addressed him. Though he wore a helmet and would have had the same face as any other, in life force he was unique and unmistakable. All the more so now than when Anakin had first met him, on his ill-fated first trip to the planet surface.

"Jac, wasn't it?," Anakin nodded, knowing he was right without needing confirmation.

"Sorry for ignoring your man," Jac said, not pausing to answer the question "we had orders not to fire, but there are those who would ignore those orders,"

"Not unreasonable, considering," Anakin commented dryly.

"Perhaps," Jac agreed, though his voice was carefully neutral.

"You realize the lot of you could have been killed. Should have been,"

"I'm always the lucky one," Jac sounded almost depressed by this.

Strange, Anakin thought, that he hadn't noticed it right at the start. He supposed that was probably because he hadn't been looking for it. One didn't normally take special note of every clone they happened across, and they certainly didn't see in them some purpose above and beyond that which they were supposedly designed for.

But this clone, he'd not only beaten the odds and survived, he'd done it time and again. And he seemed virtually unchanged by it all, the same clone that had saved Anakin in the desert. Without doubt, whether anybody liked it or not, and despite the plans they had, it was clear to Anakin that this clone was one to watch. He had some purpose, some role to play in the future.

It was not written down anywhere, Jac probably wasn't even aware of it himself. But, where the Force was concerned, that wasn't necessary. In spite of training and science, the Force still continued to work in whatever way it wanted. Assuming, of course, that it had any desires in the way that Anakin understood. That seemed doubtful somehow.

The Force, at times, was incomprehensible to even the greatest Jedi.

How often had Jac been in impossible situations, but things aligned just right for him to make it out alive?. The Force existed in all things, even clones. Jac may not be able to feel it or use it, but it sure seemed to take good care of him.

Anakin wondered why that was.

At the relay station, Anakin told the troopers that they were pulling out.

"We're leaving Aakaria to the Separatists?," one clone asked.

"Probably not," Anakin replied "chances are, we'll be back,"

There weren't murmurs of dissent, but there were glances which conveyed the same. The clones had fought hard for this planet, and it didn't sit well with them that they were now abandoning it. They understood even less why it would later be asked of them to come and fight again. The whole point of outposts was to prevent Separatists from getting a foothold on planets. It was hard to drive them off once they were established. Sometimes it was even impossible.

"We're pulling out," Anakin said "I want everything at this station packed up and ready to go by tomorrow morning, when the airship comes back,"

"Sir, we still have men out there. If you won't be needing me, I'd like to take a few men to go and look for them," Jac spoke up.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Anakin shook his head regretfully.

The Clone's eyes fell, but he didn't ask why. Anakin told him anyway.

"Aside from the political tension going on, you're being reassigned,"

"Sir?,"

"Bailesh, right hand to Meisheb, is conducting a search for both rogues and clone survivors, but any search parties from our side could easily cause an incident. One we don't want any part of. Aside from which, Meisheb has requested a meeting with an ambassador for the Republic. She requested you, specifically, to accompany them,"

"Yes sir," Jac said, but he still looked bewildered.

"It seems you've made a big impression on Her Majesty," Anakin commented.

"I don't see how, Sir. We only met the once,"

"Maybe you can ask her while you're there. In any case, you're shipping out right away,"

Politics. Jac hated it. He'd come to despise the word to the extent that even thinking about it caused him to grit his teeth. A clone trooper had no business being near diplomats. It created an awkward situation, and one which made him supremely uncomfortable. He knew a wrong movement, a poor word choice or bad timing could result in terrible consequences. Trouble was, he didn't know which of these would do what. He wasn't good at making impressions. It wasn't in his job description and had certainly never been a part of his training.

But, as always, he did as the orders from "on high" told him, throwing himself into his work with his whole being, and never letting on when the work felt too difficult. All he could do was his duty as he understood it. That had carried him thus far, there was no reason to think that would change now.