Barton - IV
The ground was freezing but his body wasn't responding. It didn't matter how much Crosshair was pushing him, he could walk no more.
This was it–the end, thought as his knees gave way and he dropped to the floor. He heard Crosshair pleading with the natborn, didn't even give the man the courtesy of thinking of him as an officer; much good it had done him. There were, no had been, better men than he, and Mayday had served with them all his life and he was serving with the last one now. Brothers to the end. Calling him an officer was an insult to them.
They were all gone now.
Crosshair's voice was getting quieter. He could barely hear him now.
Was that blaster fire?
He didn't care anymore.
He closed his eyes.
There was someone singing, no words, just a tune.
Peace at last.
.
Keeping to the side of the tunnels, they avoided the mines the others had set; Finor led them carefully through pointing out the deactivated mine near the end. She stopped, held her lantern over it before kneeling to study it.
"Careful!" He warned. It was a Clone's work. Deactivated with makeshift tools but it worked beautifully. Their ingenuity always amazed her.
"I'm always careful." She replied. The clone must have knelt exactly where she was and tapped in the metal spikes with care releasing the pressure plate.
"Not careful enough." Finor retorted, as he held out a hand to help her up.
"I hope that's you being courteous and not overprotective." She looked up at him.
He retrieved his hand.
"Thought so." She straightened up.
"Is it so bad that I want to help the only member of my family left?" He stood waiting for whatever reply she was going to give.
"No. I apologise. Lead on."
A little smile crossed his face before he turned and walked on.
Around the next corner they found another body left behind, selfishly she thanked the Gods it wasn't a member of her cell. Metaphorically speaking, as she hadn't believed in the Gods in a long time now, too many things had happened.
They emerged into the light, the sun bright, the storms over. Hopefully it would be the last of the worst winter storms.
They slithered down the hill, the snow starting to melt in areas. The avalanche had left the tracks invisible and treacherous but you could still see the remains of some of the crates they had liberated. Armour was always useful; they all wore parts of it.
She heard someone kick one of the crates; she turned in time to see Dash aim his foot at another.
"Kilis! Focus!" she ordered.
He straightened up, looking sheepish, knowing she meant business when she spoke like that.
"Move!"
An hour later, having made good time, they reached the outskirts of the outpost. She leaned forward against the rock and looked at the Empire's Outpost through her pilfered Imperial binocs, her practised eyes taking in every detail. They had done this so often, she could map the place out in her sleep.
Finor mirrored her on the next rock.
"It looks deserted." He muttered.
She heard the impatient shuffling and mutterings of her team behind them, as she scanned the landing area and the buildings. Some doors were open, which was not unusual. The com array, which normally had lights indicating its status, was on darkness. That never happened. They had tried enough times to destroy it. None of the buildings had any lights and the wreckage of the last ship they destroyed still remained, blackened, and littering the landing area.
She watched for a few more seconds as the last vestiges of the winter snow blew into the empty buildings. A waste.
She was satisfied it was abandoned.
"Agreed!"
When they had received word of the attack on their colleagues, they had immediately returned to help but it was too late. All they had was bodies or the remains. The ground was too hard to even bury them, instead they covered them in rocks to protect them from the ice vultures. Even now they were circling; there must be some food lying around. They did not waste energy.
Her team had retreated after the skinny, useless Imperial officer had been shot. She watched them from her hideout, silently applauding the trooper who finally saw sense and turned on the Empire. It was no surprise the Separatists had called them 'wet droids', they simply followed orders. He had been different.
Turning to her colleagues, she gestured towards the buildings; there would be something in there that they could recycle and or repurpose. Even at a pinch, the building materials but that would come later, in the mild season.
They reached the large landing area and poised, looking around, waiting for a counter attack. It never came. She looked over the whole area, vehicles, whole buildings abandoned, the Empire was wasteful, even its soldiers were expendable. She had seen how they were treated. Discarded like rubbish and yet they still fought and fought well. If they had the Intel she had, they would have survived.
She saw the Imperial dead left out of choice — not necessity.
Finally satisfied they were alone, they crept through the building, checking for booby traps. If there were, it would have been one of the soldiers that set it, likely the Commander. He had been a formidable soldier. She kicked an old heater; it was one thing that could be useful. Zak could repair it, even if he prefered working on droids.
She turned a corner and saw the crates with the clone helmets arranged, in memoriam. She carefully unwrapped the cloths from around her helmet, allowing her to remove it.
"A true leader." She muttered, her breath now spiralling out in a mist in front of her face. They would have to check each crate. Get more people down to go through them. Just in case the Empire returned.
"Hey! Donca! Here!"
Finor shouted from the darkened corner of the landing area; they looked to be in the waste area. The Empire didn't take its waste with it either.
She walked over to the large bins, which Finor and Dash were searching, although she wasn't sure why.
"The vultures were here. We were just looking!" Finor told her.
"Okay. Check it. Could be ration packs if they're really hungry." She looked up, the vultures still circled overhead. There was something around here.
"Ugh!" Dash exclaimed and quickly pulled away from the rubbish heap. "It's a clone!"
"Dead?" She asked, stepping nearer; she couldn't smell any human decay, even as he was placed with the rubbish.
Finor leaned over, "Difficult to tell!" He put a finger to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse.
She leaned closer and rummaged in her pocket producing a tiny scratched mirror, plain one side, flowers etched in silver on the other. Kneeling next to the clone she put the mirror to his nose and waited.
It felt like an eternity.
"He's gone and good riddance!" muttered Dash.
Then there it was, a cloud of moisture on the mirror. "He's alive!"
"I'll finish him off." Dash drew his blaster and pointed.
"No!" She reached out, pushing his hand away, "He may have some information we can use."
"Unlikely. He'll probably be dead soon."
"We'll see. Get him inside! We're not the Empire! Force save us."
.
Coruscant - Year one of the Clone Wars.
Newly promoted Commander Mayday paced in front of the bar; he checked his chrono. Cody had definitely said 21:00 hours, and at this point. He straightened his dress tunic yet again. He preferred his armour or his fatigues; he had grown up in them but these dress greys were new and they itched. He touched the bars on his chest proudly, still not believing they were his; it had been one of his dreams, since he was a cadet.
"Mayday!" He heard his Commander's voice hail him. They may be clones but Cody definitely had a distinctive timbre to his voice. It could deliver orders and comfort in the same breath and you knew he had your back. They might look alike but Cody was the Marshall Commander of the 7th Sky Corps and second in command of the Third Systems Army. The highest rank a clone could achieve. Sometimes he didn't know how Cody did it all and yet he still arranged to come and celebrate his promotion with him before he went back to Kamino and Alpha 17's training programme.
He turned and saluted, seeing the look on Cody's face, he almost stopped halfway through but that would have looked odd.
"Mayday. At ease. You're off duty."
He looked down at his dress greys, "Looks like I'm in uniform!"
"Anything else to wear, other than your fatigues or armour?" He smirked. This was the Cody you didn't see very often. Maybe if you were in Ghost Company.
"No sir."
"The name's Cody! Unwind! That's why you're here." He slapped his back before producing two tickets and walked towards the small nondescript door near an alleyway, leading to Force knows where. Mayday jumped to and followed quickly behind him.
He nearly said I've got your six, as he would on the battlefield but Cody looked in charge.
He watched as Cody knocked; a small door opened and a devaronian face appeared. "Commander!" The deep voice declared. "Good to see you again."
The door opened and Mayday followed Cody, heading the music from inside.
"Is the General not with you?"
"Unfortunately he has a Council meeting. He sends his regards."
The usual table?"
"Yes please. If it's free?"
"It's free." He indicated a small empty table.
"Corellian whiskey?"
"Yes please. Two."
The devaronian waved at the bartender and within a few seconds a server droid was on its way to their table.
They removed their hats and took their seats; it was near the front very close to the stage, an artificial candle flickered in the middle and the band was playing some nondescript tune neither recognised.
Mayday looked around. It was simply a bar with a stage and a microphone.
"Well, it's not 79s." He observed. "There's no boloball."
No it's not." Agreed Cody, "Disappointed? I know you like the boloball. How's your bets with Rex and Keeli going?"
"Rex is in front at the moment."
"Ha! Fantasy boloball that was a new one on me. Do you want to go to 79's?"
Mayday looked around, intrigued.
"No this looks…..interesting. The General comes here?"
"When he can. It's normally by invite only, which is what we had. A thank you from him, to you, for what you did."
"It's what I was bred for but this is good."
"The General doesn't think that way about us. Not now. I'm not sure he ever did."
"But…."
"No buts. Enjoy yourself." Cody drained his glass and gestured to the serving droid.
It trundled over.
"Same again."
"Yes sir."
It trundled away to the bar and back. Then the music stopped and the lights dimmed. A shadowy figure walked onto the stage.
"Howzer's going back to Ryloth tomorrow, newly minted Captain. Let's hope Cham doesn't eat him up and spit him out." Cody casually notified him.
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Thought I'd give you a heads up. First light." Added Cody
"Cham's a fair man. Just looking after his people. A good fighter. Howzer will be a good fit. He's …diplomatic and Keeli was there."
Cody smiled, then looked at the stage, "Shhh! Listen."
The spotlight shone on a woman, centre stage. Mayday looked her over. Long silky, multicoloured, figure hugging dress. Matching hair. Immaculate makeup. He knew what makeup was and he liked what he saw. This was better than 79's in some respects.
"Sly Snootles has nothing on her– listen." Cody instructed.
"She is more my type." His eyes swept over her again.
"Down boy! Just listen."
The woman started singing. The notes pure and clear ringing out in the club. The hum of voices gradually dropped away leaving just her singing, with no backing music. Mayday had often heard his brothers sing, Vode An, and that was always exhilarating, preparing them for battle. But this was different.
"There's no words." He whispered.
"Shh! She's singing the music. Close your eyes."
Mayday didn't want to. He liked what he saw but he heard the underlying order in Cody's tone, so he obeyed. He closed his eyes and then he heard it. The music, the voice.
Then it stopped, silence for a few seconds, followed by applause. He opened his eyes.
She was still there smiling, looking around the audience. He felt himself getting warm, sure her eyes had fixed on him and Cody. There was a slight nod of the head, he turned to look at Cody and he was smiling back.
"Was that for you? Are you…."
"No. She knows the General though, from years ago on Naboo and this is how we got the tickets. We normally escort her home, the odd times she performs here."
"Odd times?"
"Shh!"
There was background music now, a few bars; she nodded her head and closed her eyes for a few seconds, getting the beat. Then she started. A different type of song, punchy and it made his foot want to tap out the beat. He turned to look at Cody, he was watching her, a smile on his face, drumming his fingers in time on the table.
Mayday relented, his left foot automatically tapped in time to the beat. He watched her moving about the stage in time to music, smooth, relaxed as if she was born to it.
Towards the end, he couldn't remember how many songs she sang or what they were called but the last one was different. Slower, lower, breathy. She walked down the steps at the end of stage, slowly. He was fascinated with the way she walked, then he realised she was coming towards them looking at Cody. Cody grinned. Then she turned to him; he felt his ears burn, as she sang, almost spoke the words holding his gaze.
The song ended, he thought. He couldn't remember when— seconds or minutes ago but now she was bowing and then walking away. Blowing kisses to the audience, who were on their feet applauding. He turned to Cody and saw him frown and look at his com.
He turned back to see the woman leaving the room followed by a Falleen with jet black hair.
Cody tapped him on his shoulder, "I need to go. The General. Can you see her home?"
"The singer?"
"Who else? Has being promoted lost you some brain cells?" Cody grinned before he rose, straightening his dress greys and pulling his cap on.
"Yes sir. No sir. I'll make sure she gets home safe."
"Good man!"
Mayday sat watching the other customers they were talking now, ignoring the band not like before when they were gazing at the singer with rapt attention.
"I'll take you to her dressing room." The devaronian suddenly loomed over him at the table. "Follow me."
They left the room, circumnavigating the tables before walking down a labyrinth of corridors. "Wait outside, till she's ready. You'll know when." The devaronian smiled, then walked away.
Mayday leaned against the wall. Some of the songs still playing through his head.
.
"He's waiting outside. The one the General sent."
"One? There were two." The voice came from behind a screen, a long wig, followed closely by a long silky dress was thrown over.
"One had to leave."
"They always have to leave. Be…the General probably called. He said he couldn't come because he had a Council meeting."
Hela emerged from behind the screen, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe that appeared to dwarf her.
"I'll get these cleaned and ready for next time. We need to order more makeup, there's enough for the next performance. And don't forget you're seeing Sheeve at 14:00 tomorrow for lunch. Don't forget! You know, he hates you to be late for these little meetings he holds."
"Yes. It's in my datapad and it's Chancellor Palpatine to you."
"Hmm." Zur hung the dress up and put the wig in on a stand.
"I'm going to have a shower. You can tell the soldier to come in when you leave."
"Are you sure that's safe. You don't know him."
"If he's part of Ben's army. I'm safe. He would never do anything to upset his General."
"I'll take your word for it."
He slung the dress and wig over his arm then picked up the shoes, "Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he backed out of the dressing room.
Mayday stood up straight when he heard the door open. The slim Falleen looked him up and down dismissively.
"You can go in. She's having a shower." He held the door open with his foot.
"It sticks." He said by way of explanation, letting it go, just as Mayday grabbed it.
"Thankyou….sir." Mayday was unsure how to address him.
"It's Zur. I'm her dresser, aide and confidante. So if anything happens. I will know." He looked Mayday up and down dismissively.
Mayday gritted his teeth and smiled, "Copy that…..sir."
Zur gave him another look and walked slowly down the corridor, turning at the end to check him again. He indicated with his head, for Mayday to enter.
"Shit!" He muttered, as he walked to his room or cupboard in this place, "She's got a defective one."
Mayday walked into an empty dressing room but he could hear the shower running and tendrils of steam crept under the door. He stood and waited unsure what to do next.
The shower stopped.
"You can sit down. I'll be out in a few minutes." A disembodied female voice shouted.
There were only two chairs; he sat in the durasteel one. The other was upholstered; it looked too comfortable for him. He sat patiently.
Sure enough three minutes later she emerged. He blinked, unsure if he was in the correct room. The long hair was gone, in its place a short spiky cut, splashed with all different pastel colours. The heavy make up was gone, her skin scrubbed clean. She wore a plain white top and blue trousers that only just reached her ankles and dark red, impossibly shiny, thick soled ankle boots.
Finally gathering himself he stood up; she only came to his chest.
"Ma'am!" He came to attention.
"Cody gone?" She asked.
"Er yes."
"Are you taking me home?"
"That's the idea, ma'am."
"Hela."
He frowned.
"My name's Hela. And yours?"
"Commander Mayday."
She nodded, "Different."
"Hela what?" He asked, natborns often had two names, a first and a family name.
"Hell'uv a singer, they say." She grinned, "Are you ready?"
"I'm a soldier of the Grand Army of the Republic. We're always ready."
"I may hold you to that one day." She grinned.
He frowned.
"Come on. I'm hungry." She grabbed a coat and bag from a hook, slung them over her shoulder and walked out.
Mayday jumped up to follow her through the small corridors and finally out the rear entrance. She stood waiting.
"I'm famished, so I think it has to be Dex's, what do you think?"
"I've never had any Dex, is it good?"
She looked at him, her head cocked on one side. Not sure if he was joking or not.
He put her out of her misery.
"Joking! Never been there. Show me the way."
Come on then. Dex's Diner it is, the Coco district. If you've heard of it. You'll like it."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You will. I promise." One side of her mouth lifted up in a smile, before she strode off.
.
