Dear Reader, My thanks again to my reviewers! I was going to wait til next week for this one, but I decided, "Eh, what the heck!" I hope you enjoy and have a good weekend. Oh, and if you don't know what I'm describing with a Copian, they're related to the Aqualish (think of the guy who accosted Luke in the cantina in Mos Eisley - to quote Dogma, "Gross!") Peace, CS
Chapter 20 Hiding
"Opening his arms, he said quietly to her, 'Disappear here.'"
-Jonathan Carroll
Doma Maree stepped down from the Losla cart, and no one would have had a single reason to believe that she'd been rushing and concealing and scheming for the past ten minutes. With her composure reconstituted, she appeared very much the holy woman for whom time stood still, whose calm could not be scattered by the arrival of an enemy.
She approached Au-Mikiel, who was in some manner of conversation with what had to be one of the most unattractive beings the Doma had ever seen. She had never met a Copian before – or even seen images of one. And her first impression of the species was not to prove a positive one.
Copians were bipedal and stood roughly the same height as a human. Two fleshy lobes took the location of where a human's mouth would be, and just above the lobes were a set of gills, remnants of their aquatic past. Bulbous, opaque eyes showed little detectable emotion, unless you were a fellow Copian – and in that case, much was discernible.
The Copian with Au-Mikiel was dressed in what was clearly a military uniform, but with a certain flair for the ostentatious, as a bright multi-orange-hued sash hung diagonally across his chest, and each of the four skinny, clawed fingers on each hand was gaudily adorned with large, jewel-encrusted rings.
Given the Copian's vocal structure, they could not form the sounds used in Basic; hence, a translator droid stood by the Copian's side.
Au-Mikiel stepped up to meet the Doma. "Doma Maree, this is Lord Admiral Vrehnka of the Copian Navy. He is here on behalf of the Confederacy of Independent Systems."
The Doma inclined her head in a slight nod. "Greetings, Admiral Vrehnka. You are welcome here, friend."
The droid translated, received a response from the admiral, whose gestures were both dismissive and disturbingly fey, as if he were acting in a scene and doing a very bad job of it.
The droid spoke. "Your planet of Bertegad is aligned with the Republic. I am not your friend. But I am also not your enemy. Not yet."
"Bertegad may be aligned, but within these walls, we are a peaceful society. We take no sides," the Doma replied.
"That remains to be seen," came the translated rejoinder.
"Might I ask what brings you here, Admiral? Surely, you have not come as a pilgrim," the Doma queried.
Here, Au-Mikiel spoke up. "Doma, he said he has come in search of survivors from a ship that crashed in the desert."
Still directing her attention to the admiral, she asked, "A crash? When did it happen?"
"Recently, within the last two weeks of this planet's standard. But that is of no matter. The ship was crewed by clones. If the survivors arrived here, you would know. They would all look alike."
Maree looked to Au-Mikiel. "This sounds like nothing we have seen."
"No, Doma."
Looking back to Admiral Vrehnke, the Doma said, "I would not know a clone if I saw one, but I suppose if several had shown up, we would—as you said—recognize that they were all the same. But we have had no such visitors: not within the last two weeks, and not before that. Could it be that they perished in the crash?"
"Our scanners were able to locate the wreckage beneath that . . . sand pile out there, and when we dug it out, there were no bodies. Not a single one. We know there were precisely twenty-two clones on that ship. Not only that, but they had information that belongs to us. I mean to retrieve it."
Maree shook her head with perfectly affected earnestness. "If anyone were to survive a crash in the desert, it is unlikely they would survive the desert itself. The Sandheim is very unforgiving."
"And clones are very resourceful," came Vrehnka's translated reply. A string of snorts and grunts that were clearly animated with hand gestures and head tosses preceded the next translation. "Dirty little beasts! Like the kanker-ants of Copia! Running back and forth at the Jedi's call! Fit for nothing other than to be crushed beneath my boot!"
The droid did a credible job of conveying the emotion behind the mini-tirade.
"I'm afraid I can't comment on that, Lord Admiral," Maree replied with a perfectly false smile.
"Humph! Your comments are not needed." A pause as the admiral walked past the Doma and surveyed the scene before him for a moment. "You will not mind if we search this place. After all, the clones may have snuck in while you were off praying or something. They are sneaky, desperate creatures – like bog flies—" He seemed to forget that only seconds ago, they were kanker-ants. "And having them in your midst could be dangerous. If we find any, we will remove them. That will do you well. I am sure you have no objection."
The Doma stepped around in front of him and put a hand on his arm. "Actually, I do have an objection. Lord Admiral, we are healing orders, and we have many patients here whom I would prefer not be disturbed."
"I have no interest in disturbing your patients," Vrehnka replied. "Unless some of your patients are clones."
Behind him, just inside the gate, stood a dozen more Copian officers. At a signal from their admiral, they came forward.
"Take your squads and conduct a full search."
"I will send some of the brothers to escort your men—" the Doma began, but the admiral had turned and was already walking away.
Still, that did not deter the Doma. She waved Au-Mikiel to her side. "Send men to keep an eye on them."
"Yes, Doma."
"With any luck, they will conduct their search and be gone—" She cut off at the sound of heavy, rhythmic, metallic clanking. Both she and Au-Mikiel looked towards the gate . . .
"Clankers! Fek and all!"
From his hiding place among the Hayla groves, Rex swore in silence then drew back behind the full cover of one particularly verdant bush.
The moment he'd seen Admiral Vrehnka's hideous visage, he'd known things could get very bad. Vrehnka was well known for his visceral hatred of the clone troopers. It rankled the admiral to no end that manufactured beings, led often by only a single Jedi, could win any victory for their side. They had no lineage, no distinguished histories to uphold, no respect for tenure. The admiral viewed the clones as insects, worthy only to be exterminated . . . unless they could be tortured first, which was always the pinnacle of fine entertainment. It was what the Copians were best known for.
Admiral Vrehnke was a temperamental, overly dramatic pincushion, easily set off, and with an inflated sense of his own importance. Of course, such an ego always found slights, even where none existed. Vrehnka felt the Separatist leadership undervalued his worth, and so when he was given tasks like pursuing a ship full of clones as opposed to participating in a great space battle, for example, he immediately felt the sting of insult. Dithering about after clones was a waste of his skills! He should be going head-to-head in a battle of wits with some Republic Navy fleet commander.
Rex's only consolation was that Vrehnka's disdain for the clones was so intense that he was unlikely to spend much time searching for them. They were beneath him. But then, he also knew that Vrehnka liked to get the job done, and he wasn't sloppy about it.
He'd watched the Doma entreat with the admiral; and although he could not hear the words being spoken, he could see she was putting on a good show. He wondered, tangentially, if it was somehow permissible for a holy person to lie in the face of danger. If they survived this search, he would ask the Doma.
He turned and began running back through the grove, coming to the healing houses. He went straight up to the rooms where the last of his injured brothers, Kix, Puzzle, and Keeper, had been housed. Puzzle and Keeper were gone, and their rooms looked as if they'd not been occupied as recently as only a few moments ago. Coming to Kix's room, he stopped short, thinking perhaps he'd entered the wrong room, despite how many times he'd already been there.
He moved tentatively up to the bed for a closer look. The man lying there had his entire head and half of his face swathed in bandages. The side of his face that was visible looked as if it had been gruesomely burned.
"Did the Doma send you here?"
Rex startled, so much so that he drew his weapon as he whirled around. It was Fels Au-Gehen.
The brother reflexively held up his hands. "It's just me! You can put that thing away!"
Rex lowered the blaster. "I'm sorry. I—I . . . " He had no time for lengthy apologies. "Is this—is this Kix under all this stuff?"
"Yes, it is," Au-Gehen replied. "The nurses are very good at concealment. You and your men aren't the first time we've had fugitives here."
Fugitives?
It was an interesting choice of words, but Rex could not indulge his curiosity at the moment.
"Where are the others?"
"They've all been moved down to the grottoes," Au-Gehen replied. "Including the one you sent here to check on the others."
"Puzzle? Keeper? They're down there, too?"
"Every clone who was up here is now in the grottoes . . . except this one." A pause. "Did the Doma send you here?" he asked again.
"No, no, I—I came here on my own," Rex replied. "They had battle droids with them, and I had to get away before they recognized me."
"So, they are Separatists," Au-Gehen presumed with a heavy sigh.
"Yes," Rex said in a clipped tone. "And I guess I need to get to the grottoes now, too, although . . . although I don't feel right about leaving Kix here alone."
"He is not alone, Captain," came the reply, and there was a look of sad resignation in Au-Gehen's eyes that Rex couldn't quite figure out. The brother looked away, down the hall, for a moment and called out to someone out of Rex's line-of-sight.
A moment later, one of the sisters—Rex recognized her as being the tall, attractive sister whom he had often seen listening to Echo's stories—appeared in the doorway.
"Show him to the grottoes," Au-Gehen instructed. "Then come back here immediately."
"Yes, Fels."
"Follow me, Captain."
Rex followed.
Doma Maree watched the ranks of droids as they passed, and once they had dispersed under the leadership of their Copian officers, she found herself unpleasantly addressed once again by Admiral Vrehnka.
"You are aware, holy woman, that if we do find any of the clones here, you may end up forfeiting your own life and that of every member of your . . . religious community," he grunted through the translator droid. "Not for harboring them, but for concealing them."
"That would be a reaction out of all proportion to the offense," the Doma replied in a haughty manner, one that she imagined the admiral would appreciate as indicative of his own fashion. "But I do not fear it. There are no clones here."
"I hope so, for your sake."
"Why do you think they would be here? Did they crash close by? We would have seen that," the Doma asked.
"We found the ship approximately 150 klicks due west—"
"A hundred and fifty klicks?! And you think they could have made it here? I don't mean to insult you, Admiral, but that's . . . quite a stretch. A hundred and fifty klicks of open desert, with the heat and the sandstorms, not to mention the desert predators. I think it more likely that your clones, if they survived the crash, succumbed to the Sandheim," the Doma said. "They would have to be super-human to have lasted more than a couple days."
"We shall see."
After another silence, Maree probed again. "For a man of your stature and rank to be sent in the pursuit of clones, they must have had something of great value to the Confederacy."
"And who are you to ask about such things?" Vrehnka snorted.
"I am the woman in charge of the place in which you and your forces now find themselves," the Doma replied. "My God gives me the freedom to inquire. You have the freedom not to answer."
Vrehnka made a chortling noise that might have been a laugh. "Your freedom comes from the Confederacy having no interest in this planet or its people. But you can believe me: if Count Dooku ever decides Bertegad has some use, your freedom will be in my hands!"
"That is an illusion, Admiral," Maree replied. "But one that only reality will be able to deprive you of." With that, she walked to where Au-Mikiel was standing with several other brothers, conversing quietly.
"You're not trying to make him angry, are you, Maree?" Au-Mikiel asked.
"I'm trying not to get angry myself," the Doma replied.
"Anger is a grave sin," Au-Mikiel warned.
"So is doing nothing in the face of such evil."
Au-Ogusta was surprised at how haphazard the patrol was. He'd considered that droids must be very methodical in their undertakings, certainly with regard to search patterns. Perhaps it was the fact that they were being led by a sentient, but then again . . . it could just be that these droids were not well-programmed. He would have called them dimwitted, except, as machines, they had no wits. He found they were easily distracted, especially when their Copian officer was not immediately present to keep them focused.
The patrol Au-Ogusta had chosen to escort had gone straight through the healing houses, past the Taber, and to the far northern wall. From there, they began their search coming back from that end. They swept through the area around the origin spring and came down through the wilderness where only that morning Echo and Fives had been entertaining the ni-Doma.
Much to Au-Ogusta's relief, they passed right by several well-hidden openings to the grottoes without noticing. They avoided the Vervien and Austenien residences, as those were being checked by another patrol. And then they moved west, coming eventually to the Seiba Tops.
This would be the first test, but Au-Ogusta was not overly worried. The brothers and sisters knew their jobs well. Still, he felt a few drops of sweat rolling down his neck, and his insides tightened a bit.
He waited until the droids had checked every single room, then he allowed himself a look inside.
Perfect. Everything was perfect. The rooms were freshly made, and not a sign of armor, weapons, or anything "clone".
Au-Ogusta was starting to think they might be able to pull this off.
"Captain, we've found an opening around back that appears to lead underground."
Au-Ogusta turned his head to see the battle droid that had just made the report.
"Do you want us to investigate, Sir?" the droid asked.
"Take a squad and check it out," the captain said in his own language, for the droids were programmed to understand Copian speak. "Contact me if you find anything. Otherwise, be back at the gate at 1600. I'll take the rest of the platoon to check out these other buildings."
"Roger, roger."
The rest of the patrol moved on, minus the squad that went to investigate the opening. Au-Ogusta accompanied the latter, glad that the officer had chosen to go on ahead.
As they entered the passage, he spoke loudly. "These old passages were used to work on the water ducts. They have been abandoned for many years now and are considered very dangerous. You must watch for falling rock—"
"We don't need a Republic supporter telling us how to do our job," one of the droids interrupted in what was a surprisingly snarky voice for a machine.
Au-Ogusta raised his voice a notch. "I just wanted to give you a warning."
"Do you hear that?"
March's sudden inquiry, spoken in a whispered hiss, sharpened everyone's attention.
The unmistakable sound of a battle droid's voice. The nasal, whiny, high-pitched, grating sound that had to have been the worst possible selection for a tonal modulator.
"Battle droids!" Bounce grimaced.
Sixer held up his hand, commanding silence. In the darkness, lit only by the subtle glow of volcanic thermals pulsing through streaks of clear obsidian rock, he turned to face the brother beside him. His name was Fels Au-Heilik, and he'd joined them shortly after they'd entered the underground passageway, sending Sister So'Nodor back to the surface to ensure the quarters were put in proper order.
Instead of heading all the way down into the deepest reaches of the grottoes, Au-Heilik led the clones about two hundred meters through the tunnel where both sides bowed out to form an irregular but somewhat circular opening roughly ten meters across and interspersed with natural columns of rock. Au-Heilik had called it the bee hive, due to its shape. And here, he'd shown them one of the grottoes' defenses.
"This lever opens one of the thermals and feeds it into small boreholes in the ceiling rock of the passageway. When the steam hits those boreholes, it will blow the rock to bits and bring the ceiling down, blocking the passage," he'd explained.
"We won't be trapped, will we?" Sixer had asked.
"No, there are many more entrances, but they all have this same feature, so that we can block them if we need to."
Now, Sixer saw Au-Heilik looking at him anxiously, awaiting word from him on what he wanted to do.
"If they keep coming, blow it," Sixer whispered without hesitation.
"It will appear as nothing more than a cave-in," Au-Heilik said. "It should not make them suspicious."
"They're battle droids," Zinger smirked. "First sign of trouble and they'll turn back."
Au-Heilik perked up for a moment, listening. "That is Au-Ogusta's voice. He is sending us a warning. That means they are coming." He looked to Sixer. "Blow it?"
Sixer grinned. "Too bad Pitch isn't here for this. Blow it."
Au-Heilik used both hands and pulled down the lever.
At first, it appeared nothing was happening, but then there was a shiver and shimmy in the tunnel.
The ceiling began to come down.
Dust and sand and steam remnants billowed back into the bee hive. The clones took cover behind the rock pillars.
When the tumult had passed, Sixer raised his head and caught the smiling gaze of Au-Heilik.
"Success?" Sixer asked.
"Success."
On the other side of the cave-in, the scene was a bit more chaotic.
"Agghh!"
There was nothing more ridiculous or more forlorn than the cry of a battle droid.
At least, that was Au-Ogusta's first thought upon hearing the sound.
His warning had worked, and the ceiling ahead of the patrol was now collapsed. No droids had been caught in the cave-in, but it had startled them and now they puttered in disarray.
"This place is dangerous," one droid noted. "I think we should go back."
A chorus of "roger, roger" rose up.
"We have our mission," the squad leader asserted.
"But we can't get through there, Sergeant."
"We can clear the debris."
"How long will that take?"
"I don't want to do that."
"There might be another cave-in."
Au-Ogusta was incredulous that the Separatists could hope to win any conflict with soldiers like these.
At last, the beleaguered platoon leader gave in. "Fine! We'll go look somewhere else."
Au-Ogusta smiled to himself as he followed them out into the open air.
Perhaps the battle droids were more sentient—and dimwitted—than he'd given them credit for.
Fels Au-Gehen made himself as agreeable as possible.
He had many sick and injured lying in the healing houses, and he did not want this intrusion to do anything that might upset the delicate balance that was keeping some of those sick and injured alive.
The officer who was in charge of the patrol going through this wing of the healing houses had every appearance of being disinterested. He himself had been the one to actually go into the room where Kix was lying, give the room a cursory glance, and then declare the room clear. He continued to go languidly from room to room, rechecking where his droids had already looked, but not really paying any serious attention to what he was doing.
Instead, he chatted on through the battle droid who acted as his translator.
"I share the admiral's view that this mission is beneath us. But Count Dooku isn't to be trifled with, so we must do his bidding. The information on those consoles must be very important. If we hadn't found indication that the clones had downloaded some of the data, we could have just retrieved the consoles and left this planet. But now, we dare not tell the Count that we found the consoles, but the information is still in Republic hands." A pause while the droid caught up, then at last, "Pity you and your people had to be caught up in this. The Republic makes enemies of its friends in just this way."
"We take no sides in the war," Au-Gehen replied. "Hostility is not part of our way of life. That our planet's leadership has chosen to side with the Republic is not a representation of this Monastica."
The Copian officer eyed him curiously for a moment. "A very reasonable stance."
Another battle droid arrived with its report. "Sir, we've finished clearing this wing. There are no signs of the clones."
"Then let's move to our next objective." But before the officer departed, he reached into a breast coat pocket and removed a small device. "If we find nothing here—and you should hope we don't—we will continue our search in the desert and the populated areas. Just in case the clones happen to find their way here, you can use this to contact us."
Au-Gehen narrowed his eyes. "Is it not possible that the Republic has already come and picked up its men?"
"Possible, but unlikely," the officer replied. "Our scanners showed no ion signatures to indicate that a Republic ship has been here any time recently."
Au-Gehen looked at the device in the clawed hand. "I have said we are neutral. I would no more turn in Republic troops to the Confederacy than I would do the opposite."
"You can be neutral. But take it anyways. You may find that if Republic troops show up, they may not be as . . . hospitable as we are. You may want them gone as soon as possible. We can help you with that."
Au-Gehen reached out and took the device.
"I will have no use for it," he said.
"Then it will be a trinket." The officer turned to leave. "And if the clones do show up here, you will find it very useful."