Please be aware that parts of this chapter may be deemed M rated.

Ninety Four

Freya switched the light off. The sound of the humidifier coupled with the husky breathing the only noise coming from the small bedroom.

He was asleep.

Finally.

She then went to her kitchen and stared at the meal she had prepared herself hours earlier, now cold and unappealing.

She had no appetite.

Marek had another head cold; the spoils of long day care facilities that she was forced to place him in while she continued to work for a living.

Freya told herself that she didn't mind.

But deep down, in a place where she would never admit it, she did.

She did care that she looked older than her thirty years; that she never got a decent night's sleep, taking on extra analytical work that she could do at night, when the rooms were quiet. She did care that her meals were cold by the time she got to them and finally she did care that she was doing it all alone.

Without Echo.

Sometimes, she would allow herself to pretend.

Who was there to judge after all?

It was little things.

Freya would set the table for two, or get two plasti mugs down from the cupboard and make the caf he liked so much. She would sit at the table and look at the steaming liquid and draw comfort from the warmth and aroma, the smell at least, made the memory seem more real.

Then actuality would take its place.

Echo was dead and he would never see his son, never hear his laugh or share his pain. That upset her most; not her own loneliness or lack of a companion and partner, but the fact that he would never meet his own flesh and blood, something she knew was as vital as air to CT-21-0408.

She would constantly berate herself.

'Get on with it Freya, you have the best of him right in front of you,' or 'you'll never be alone now you have Marek.'

You'll never be alone.

So she knuckled down, tapping away at her computer hour upon hour, both day and night, determined to pay her way and provide for her son. The money for the contract work was especially lucrative. She didn't care who was paying her, as long as the credits were deposited into her account at the end of the week. Her latest consignment, analytical verification's for a large shipyard company in the outer rim.

She never asked questions.

Freya didn't care which side she worked for, she was beyond loyalty to the Republic. Her silence was her redeeming feature; it's what the contractors liked best about her.

Her silence.

.

I remember it happened just after Umbara.

Everyone around me was falling apart in their own personal way. I spent hours in the Infirmary, just watching and helping as much as I could, feeling as though I was partially responsible for the ones lying there.

I should have spoken up, I should have done something to help, but we were outnumbered and just too damn loyal.

I remembered the first time.

I had just pulled a double shift in the medbay. The cap had gone down and was admitted for exhaustion; Jesse was spending most of his time on the lower levels. Fives had disappeared.

Typical ARC.

Appo just kept mouthing off in the barracks. He, out of everyone seemed least affected about what happened on Umbara.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday.

Working on the men with the lightsaber burns was bad enough, their injuries were unique and bitter as the battle with Krell himself.

But the men with laser burns from their own weapons; that, that was just-too-much.

The tipping point.

I was treating one when it happened. The injured soldier went into cardiac arrest. I just went on autopilot, hitting the alarm button before dropping the bed flat and beginning chest compressions.

One, two, three, breathe.

One, two, three, breathe.

The Republic medical personnel made their way over to the bed and without second thought, called it.

"Time of death 16:42."

"What the fek are you doing?" I screamed at them for an answer. I remembered this particular brother; chest wound, should have been dead but his armour had deflected the trajectory of the pulse, missing his heart but rupturing his oesophagus.

He should have been dead, but he survived.

Another thing the Kaminoan's didn't count on.

Intestinal fortitude.

"He's reached his medical limit. Move aside."

I remember standing back and watching as if it were a holovid, acted and unreal. They just pushed his gurney from the cubicle, the tubes still attached.

Everything was disposable.

Just like us.

I had failed.

Again.

So that was it.

I walked back to my quarters, removed my armour and went straight into the refresher. Not even stopping to see if there was anyone else around, I stepped into the end cubicle and opened my wet pack and withdrew a field pack hypo of Morpha and jabbed it hard into my right thigh.

I then waited for the drugs to hit my system and numb the pain.

Only it wouldn't. It never could.

It was easy for me though. The cap always liked to 'double up' the ones not going to make it, so we needed more in the medpacks, the guys in Ordinance and Supply never questioned us.

We were 501st for feks sake!

I got to know my body's limit as well, unlike the first time in the refresher.

I passed out and woke with the hypo dangling from my leg. In a drug induced haze I removed it and placed it back into my wet pack.

It was the first time I slept, and I mean really slept in as long as I can remember.

I always had enough.

That was the problem.

.

The voices came at night or when she was meditating during the day. Her exceptional telekinetic power was what made her a powerful healer.

Over and over again they wouldn't relent. The war a farce and that the Jedi needed to be held accountable.

Words so persuasive and cajoling that she had no choice other than to listen them.

Repeating methodically, over and over until she felt she had no choice other than to act upon them.

It was up to her, one who had been told the truth, to show them all that they were wrong.

Darth Sideous could be quite persuasive, when he needed to be.

.

Fives slung his commlink down and jumped onto the couch in her apartment.

"Barriss Offee had just confessed to murder and subterfuge. They have her in lock up." He began pulling his boots back on, "they should put her in front of a firing squad, they'd think nothing of doing that to one of us."

The ARC was on permanent cool down. Stuck on twenty eight missions, he was keen to get the next two under his belt and quit the army for good. He had no regrets. Tash was on the same holding pattern; eager to move forward and begin a new life away from Coruscant together. She had managed to call in a few favours and have a locum position on hold on Corellia if and when they could move there permanently. He wasn't keen on it, but at least it wasn't Naboo.

"You heading back?" He was clipping his belt back in place, swinging it around his hips.

"Yeah, need to report in, see if they can't give me something. I'm going crazy with all this waiting."

"Never known anyone to be in a hurry to get back to war before," Tash had become accustomed to him being around. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Thirty and we're out remember?"

"Thirty and we're out."

.