Dear Reader, A special thanks to LLTC, who gave this story a shout-out in her latest story posting. I appreciate it very much! So, I'm not up on all the SW:TCW canon or legend, but when I start dropping hints at Cody's and Rex's past, ARC school, etc., those are snippets of my own vision for how they met. I created my own history, which may not be IAW with established history. So, sorry if I'm stomping all over canon! Later installments of this story contain the full history of Cody and Rex's meeting and time in ARC school, as well as Rex taking command of the 501st and his first meeting with General Skywalker and how they developed into the team we got to see in TCW.
Final note: when I envision what the clones look like, I tend to go off the Umbara animation, when they'd changed the clones' looks to give them more individuality. Because the Kix of Saleucami looks quite different than the Kix of the firing squad (who looks all of 16 years old, if that! lol!). I mention this because it comes into play in this chapter.
Thanks for your indulgence! Peace, CS
Chapter 15 Not Much Modesty
"Modesty is my best quality."
-Jack Benny
"The sun's gone down. We're ready to go."
Rex nodded once at Cody's announcement.
"Remember, it will take us about seven days to get to the city, and then it may take another two or three days for the fleet to get here. Maybe longer. I'm not sure how the standard rotation compares to this planet's rotation, so it could be more or less."
"I understand," Rex replied.
"So don't get antsy and pull up stakes after a week. Give us up to two weeks."
"Two weeks? What are we going to do here for two weeks?"
"Try figuring out the data from those consoles," Cody replied. "And some of you still need to heal."
Rex frowned. "Yeah." A long pause. "Kix is still in pretty bad shape."
"I know. I just came from there. Were Jesse, Hardcase and Pitch with him all day?"
"I think so. I've seen Pitch come and go." Rex looked almost embarrassed. "I think he's still trying to learn how to pray," he said in a somewhat scoffing voice. "Like trying to teach a gundark how to sing. But Jesse and Hardcase, I never see them leave."
"If things don't go well, they're going to need you," Cody pointed out.
"They're tougher than that," Rex replied, and it was clear that the idea of losing Kix and having to be the face of strength for his grieving squad mates was not something that Rex wanted to entertain, even as a possibility.
"I know they're tough," Cody rejoined, and he said no more on the matter. He had no time to get into a debate with Rex. Instead, he moved onto the next subject. "I saw your doctor when I came in. He said you're healing very quickly and will be on your feet tomorrow. He thinks you'll be able to take a room with the others the day after that. Whatever they've got here, it works faster than a bacta tank."
"I could be on my feet now, if they'd let me," Rex said.
Cody simpered. "I warned them you'd be a terrible patient."
Rex grinned wickedly. "But an awesome soldier."
The commander blew his breath out in exasperation. "I think I'll say good-bye on that note."
"Good luck," Rex offered.
As a parting, it was simple and suited both of them. They were, after all, soldiers. Their expertise was combat arms, the waging of war; and they both had a stoicism that befitted their positions as leaders.
It was not that neither of them had ever considered the very real possibility that the other could meet his death at any moment in the war. After all, they had both come close. Cody would never forget the jolt of panic—yes, it had been panic—on Saleucami when General Kenobi had called for Rex and received a reply from Jesse instead. Jesse's report that Rex had been injured had only furthered the commander's concern. Later, after Cody had learned that Jesse and company had safely installed Rex in a farm house and resumed their mission without ever bothering to call in the incident . . . well, it would not be inaccurate to say the commander had gone barve-crazy on them. How could they have been so remiss as to neglect to inform the mission commander, General Kenobi, that one of the senior officers had been wounded? And wounded badly enough that he needed to be left behind for recuperation? They'd had plenty of time and opportunity to inform the main body – anyone in the main body. But they'd blown it, and Cody had been furious. They may not have been his soldiers, but he took them to task regardless. He was sure they'd never forgotten the moment.
On Rex's part, he had only seen Cody seriously injured once. And that once had been enough. It was shortly after Rex had been assigned to the 501st – one of his first missions as a freshly minted captain and the new first-in-command of the most prestigious unit in the GAR. The 501st and 212th had been on a joint mission to take out a biological warfare manufacturing facility – a touchy assignment, given the necessity to avoid spreading contaminants in the course of the destruction.
Both captain and commander had just completed ARC training together—in itself, a whole separate and incredible adventure—and Rex had come away from that experience with the conviction that Cody was the best man he'd ever met, something of a legend in his own right, and the kind of officer he would want at his side in a pinch. An aura of invincibility had seemed to surround the commander—or it might have been a bit of latent hero worship on Rex's part—so the thought of him getting injured had never really crossed Rex's mind.
Until that day. Until that moment when the gunships had landed, and before even one of Cody's men could get out the doors, a rocket-propelled grenade had scored a direct hit in the troop bay.
It might have been the only time Rex had abandoned the immediacy of battle to go to a fallen comrade. The wreckage had been burning, body parts scattered, blood splashed and streaked over broken pieces of tauntingly white armor . . .
Cody had been blasted clear and thrown such a distance that his body actually collided with another gunship that had just lowered to deliver its troops.
Rex had completely jettisoned every bit of leadership training at that moment and gone to the commander's aid – a decision for which General Skywalker had reamed him up one side and down the next, only to concede at the end of the ass-chewing that he would have done the same thing.
Rex never regretted what he'd done. He'd saved Cody's life, and every time he saw the scars on the commander's face, the only remnants of a tragedy that should have been a death blow, he knew he had done the right thing – even as Cody continued, still to this day, to scold him for recklessly putting the life of one man ahead of the mission.
Rex smiled.
"Let him scold. If there's one thing I've learned from General Skywalker, it's to stick to your guns. I'd do it again if the opportunity came up."
And in war . . . opportunities always came up. But not in the ways desired or expected.
The following morning seemed, somehow, emptier.
Even though only three team members had departed the night before, there was something in their absence that the others keenly felt. A lethargy hung over the clones as they took their breakfast, all of them gathered in Zinger's room – a tight fit, but they'd known much tighter in the belly of a Grasshopper. It hadn't helped that the afternoon previous, the commander had nixed any idea of swimming and put them to work helping prepare the Shempa for the trek.
Sitting on the window sill, Bounce, desperate to shake off the gloomy feeling in the room, announced with manufactured enthusiasm. "You know, I could sure go for a swim now. We didn't get to go yesterday. What do you say?"
This was precisely what was needed to snap the spell.
"I say let's go," Slip agreed, scarfing down the last crumbs on his plate and getting to his feet. Several others followed his lead.
It was Zinger who was forced to act as the voice of reason.
"You'd better go check with the captain first," he pointed out. "He's in charge now, and he may have stuff for us to do."
Sempe cast a rueful grin in Zinger's direction. "You pilots are all alike. Rules, rules, rules."
"You gonna tell Oddball that?" Zinger retorted good-naturedly. "He hasn't met a rule he didn't like breaking."
"Sempe and I will go talk to Captain Rex," Sixer decided. "Zinger's right. If we go off to play when he's got work for us, well . . . I don't need another reprimand in my record."
"Me, neither," Sempe agreed. "We'll be back soon. And hopefully, with good news."
"I wasn't expecting to find you on your feet, Captain."
Rex startled and turned with the hunched shoulders of one caught on the wrong side of prudent behavior.
Doma Maree stood just inside the doorway.
"Ah, well, I feel strong enough, and I'm not sore—not too sore," he fudged. "The docs were going to put me on my feet today anyway. I'm just getting a headstart."
"And doing fairly well, I might add," the Doma said, and she handed him a robe from a peg on the wall.
"Unh-uh. Thanks, but no thanks. I'm trading these sleep things for some regular clothes," Rex deferred, then feeling that he might not have been a gracious as he should, he amended his refusal. "I mean, this, uh, this night . . . sleeping thing . . . it's very comfortable," he stammered, looking down at the light, cottony hospital gown he was wearing. "But I can't go out in this. I need one of those outfits like my brothers are wearing."
"Did the healer say he would be releasing you today?"
Rex affected a nonchalant attitude. "Not yet, but he will." A pause. "With Cody gone, I'm in charge, and I need to keep an eye on my men."
"I do think it is best if you wait until Au-Linus clears you for release." Au-Linus had been Rex's surgeon.
"He's due to stop by any minute now, and I'm sure he'll clear me" Rex answered. "I'll just get dressed before he gets here. Save some time."
"You can hardly get dressed unless I send for some clothes," the Doma pointed out, finding his tenacity humorous.
"Then please send for some clothes." He began tottering towards the restroom, his movements ungainly and with the balance of a ship in rough seas.
The Doma drew up beside him and took hold of his elbow to steady him. Rex was surprised that someone who appeared so gentle and soft could have the grip of a vice.
"Uh, no offense, Doma, but you're not going in there with me," Rex said emphatically. "That I can handle on my-"
His voice fell off abruptly at the sight of Sixer and Sempe in the doorway.
Seeing the captain's face suddenly flush red, the Doma wondered if he was suddenly taken ill, even though she did not feel it in him. Then she followed the direction of his gaze and turned to see the two clones grinning from across the room.
Rex was not a self-conscious man. He was not timid, shy or anything like. But this was simply humiliating. To be caught out in his hospital gown—he could only imagine how much the back was gaping open—being supported by this woman, and hunched over like an old man . . .
The smiles on his troopers' faces was almost too much to bear.
"What do you two want?" he barked, straightening up and forcing his way past the grimace trying to find its way into his expression.
Sempe knew he would not be able to contain his laughter if he tried to speak, so he left it to Sixer to answer the question. "We came to see how you're doing, Captain."
"I'm doing fine," Rex replied, sounding irritated. "I'm in the middle of something."
"We'll wait, if you don't mind, Sir," Sixer beamed.
Rex groaned and shuffled back to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "No, I'll wait. What do you want?"
"Like I said, captain, we just wanted to know how—"
"I told you I'm fine," Rex replied evenly enough. "Come on, Sixer, I've known you and Sempe long enough to know that you've got something else on your minds. What is it?"
Sixer looked to Sempe, who nodded – the extent of his courage at the moment.
"If you have nothing for us to do this morning, captain, we'd like to go to this swimming hole that they have," Sixer announced. "The commander had us working all day yesterday, and well . . . it's already hot outside. We'd just like a little bit of R and R, sir."
The two clones steeled themselves for the stormy answer they were certain was coming. Sixer already had his counter-argument ready.
But then Rex surprised them.
"That's fine. Just don't make it all day. I want you all to do some work deciphering the data from those consoles. Take the morning to do whatever you want, but in the afternoon, I want you all working."
For a moment, neither Sixer nor Sempe knew how to react.
"Are you sure, Sir?" Sixer asked tentatively.
"Yeah. I think you all deserve a bit of relaxation. Go on. I may even join you." He raised his eyebrows when the Doma regarded him with doubt. "Maybe. We'll see," he concluded.
"Thank you, Captain," Sixer said smartly; and Sempe launched a fly-off salute that would have gotten him refresher duty on Kamino.
Once the two clones had departed, Rex shook his head. "I'm a pushover."
"Only sometimes," the Doma replied. "You are quite stubborn about wanting to get out of the healing rooms."
"Well, yeah, but that's different. I don't like lying around and being . . . weak."
Maree inclined her head to one side. "I would hardly call you weak, captain. But I have observed, just over the last two days, that despite your rather gruff exterior, when it comes to your men, you have—shall we say—a soft spot."
"No, let's not say that," Rex declined. He stood up and headed towards the restroom again, this time without assistance. "It may be true . . . but let's not say it."
"Watch and learn, brothers!" Bounce stood atop the rocky ledge above the pool. Stark naked, he was completely unabashed, appearing like a chiseled statue of the finest stone. His arms were raised above his head, open wide, as if inviting the gods to embrace him.
"Well! Stop posing and do something!" Slip shouted back from down below in the water.
Bounce obliged, executing a perfect swan dive. Coming to the surface, he shook the water out of his eyes. "Well?"
"Gorgeous," Zinger sniffed. "Almost as good as that belly-flop you landed in water survival training back home."
"Well, you know, I'm a natural, like a fish in water," Bounce puffed.
"I don't know. I think March is about to show you up." This from Slip.
March was one fascinating clone to look at; and although the clones did all have the same genetic template, many of them had adopted subtle—and not so subtle-physical distinctions to mark them as different.
March, much like Kix, had somehow managed to maintain the appearance of a youth. His face seemed a bit rounder, his eyes less hazel and more brown, his brow not as pronounced. He wore his hair in its original color in a buzz cut that tapered at the nape, and from there, he wore a tattoo of woven vines that ran clear down his spine and disappeared between his buttocks.
His brothers marveled at the workmanship . . . and the amount of pain he must have suffered to get the thing done.
His fellow clones considered him perhaps a cut above them when it came to attractiveness, much in the same way they viewed Kix.
But when it came to diving . . . March couldn't hold a candle to Bounce. And he didn't even try. Instead, he launched a cannon ball that sent sprays of water clear up to the ledge.
Near one bank, Fives stood ankle-deep in the water, surveying the scene before him. At least ten of his brothers were in the water, the others getting ready to go in. They were having fun, doing the sorts of things men do in the absence of women: splashing, trying to push each other below the surface, racing back up to the ledge for another dive, jump, or flop.
He wanted to join them. He was going to have to soon, for he wasn't going to stand there, feeling as if he were on display for much longer. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the scene was living itself out in a different world – a world where Hevy and Cutup and Droidbait were still alive. They would have already been in the water. And they would have dragged him in there, too. Even Echo would have gone in. Fives could picture Hevy wrestling with Fives to see who would get there first.
That's how it would have been.
Had Domino Squad still been whole.
"Okay, enough spectating!" That was Ajax's voice.
And the next moment, that other world of "if only" met the world of reality; Ajax and DB had him by the arms and were pulling him forward into the water.
"We'll call this your ceremonial dunk to formally welcome you into the 501st!" Ajax bellowed.
And before he could reply, Fives went head-under. He came back up, spit the water from his mouth, and looked at Ajax with a face that could have easily been outrage. But it wasn't. "You bastard," he laughed.
"Not bastard," Ajax corrected. "Brother."
Doma Maree always took a morning prayer walk. And this time, she knew it was not by coincidence that she found herself heading towards the pool. There were any number of places for swimming along the spring run; but the Doma had only pointed out one to the clones, and she had done so with the intention of affording them some privacy.
She would not intrude upon that privacy. The pathway on the west bank rose up into the brush and tree-covered high ground of plateau, and she would be able to hear them and know they were there without having to see them and without them seeing her. She wasn't sure exactly why she wanted to make sure that was where they had gone. She just knew something was sending her in that direction.
As she came to the top of the rise, she understood what she had only intuited before.
There was a knot of seven or eight teenaged girls huddled together at the edge of the rise, down on their hands and knees, peering over the side, giggling and tittering like birds. They were too entranced to even notice the approach of the Doma.
"What are you girls up to?"
Immediately, the girls skittered back from the overlook. "Oh, Doma! We—we didn't hear you coming."
"Obviously." Maree moved up to stand between the girls and looked over the precipice. She saw exactly what she had expected to see, but she needed to pick her words carefully.
Below where they stood was the pool, glistening in the sunlight and nearer its boundaries, dappled by overhanging shade trees.
It was a very pretty scene, but Maree saw right away that a different kind of beauty had drawn the girls' attention.
As expected, the pool was filled with clones. Perhaps only a bit less expected was the fact that they wore not a shred of clothing and appeared completely unconcerned that anyone might see them.
The Doma had not considered what they would wear to go swimming. It was hardly a matter worth pondering; although now, she was thinking she should have pondered it. Instead, she was faced with the dilemma of how to correct the behavior of hormonally charged young girls without inadvertently increasing their curiosity. And given the scene below, that would not be easy; for there was something innocently charming about the carefree manner of the clones, something alluring in the way they were still able to act like boys. And, of course, Maree could not deny the obvious: they were very pleasing to look at.
One of the girls spoke up preemptively. "We were just enjoying the view, Doma."
Another, barely able to contain herself, blurted out in a loud whisper, "They have no clothes on! They're swimming naked!"
"Yes, I can see that."
"They don't have much modesty, do they?" the first girl said, a hint of youthful excitement in her voice, as if it were the clones' fault that they were being voyeured.
"Oh, I think their modestly is just fine. It's you girls I'm worried about," Maree chastised gently. "Come along, now, give the poor men some privacy."
"They don't know we're here," the same girl persisted. "We're not doing any harm."
The other girls nodded their agreement.
"You're not behaving properly," Maree replied with a matronly smile. "And I know I don't have to tell you that."
"But Doma, don't you think they're handsome?" another one of the girls asked.
"They're very handsome," Maree replied, ushering the girls away from the overlook. "And that's what makes them such a temptation for you young ladies." She began walking down the pathway that led away from the ledge, herding the girls on ahead of her.
The first girl, a bright-eyed blonde-haired sprite who was clearly the leader, turned and spoke anxiously back over her shoulder. "We want to meet them, Nova Maree! They've been here for almost three days and we haven't even had a chance to say hello."
"I am not sure meeting them is a good idea," Maree replied.
"You've always told us to welcome strangers," the first girl pressed.
"Preela, dear, they have been welcomed sufficiently," Maree said with a tilt of the head that meant her level of indulgence was being reached. "I think it's best if I keep you girls as far away from them as possible."
"Because they're clones?" Another girl posed, this one was name Lutcha, and she was very fair, very pretty.
"Because they're young men," came Maree's answer. "And they're soldiers. They don't need the distractions of young ladies. Especially young ladies who have forgotten their manners."
"But they're in need," Preela carried on, clearly not ready to give up the fight. "By ignoring them, we're going against everything you've ever taught us."
"Yes, and apparently I haven't taught you nearly well enough," Maree sniffed. "Their needs are being met by the brothers and the sisters. You girls need to focus on your studies and not on the presence of these young men."
"But Doma—"
"No. No more, girls."
"Just a question! Please!" This from Preela.
"One question."
"Will they be invited to the Me'enta Loge festival?"
"I think it highly likely that they will be gone by then," Maree stated.
"But . . . aren't some of them hurt? It may not be safe to move them," Lutcha posed.
"You needn't worry about that, other than to offer your prayers."
"But if they're still here, will you invite them?" Preela pressed.
"Come on, all of you, back to the residence," Maree said, barely suppressing her laughter or Preela's persistence. "And don't let me catch you oogling these men—or any others, for that matter—ever again." She led them back along the way she had come.
Fels Au-Gehen watched them depart, then he stepped out from his hiding place.
He had been on his own morning prayer walk and had also come upon the girls well before the Doma had found them; but unlike the Doma, he had concealed himself behind a clump of Hyla shrub and watched and listened to the girls as they spied on the clones below.
Their behavior was appalling.
He walked to the precipice and looked down.
And there below . . . there was the reason for that behavior.