Dear Reader, Thanks again to my reviewers! I know I'm posting kind of fast, but I have this burning desire to just get this stuff up on the site, so I'm editing like a maniac! A little change from last time: I said this would be the chapter where all hell breaks loose, but it ended up being such a LONG chapter, that I broke it down in multiple parts. This continues the buildup. Note: the whole part in the Losla stables owes itself to my passion for horses. As I was reading it during editing, I thought, "Wow, this is a weird thing to put into the story." But turns out that I really like it. I hope you do, too! Peace, CS

Chapter 27 Trees Before the Tempest

"I don't know how to love him,
what to do, how to move him.
I don't know how to take this.
I don't see why he moves me.
He's a man. He's just a man."

I Don't Know How to Love Him
- from Jesus Christ Superstar

"Well, this is a change, catching you alone," Rex remarked as he and Doma Maree entered Kix's room.

From his bed, where he was propped up with pillows and looking well on his way to being completely healed, Kix flashed the somewhat meek smile that was one of his trademarks. "You know I love them, Captain, I do. They're my brothers and my squad-mates, but . . . it is true what they say about too much of a good thing."

Rex approached the bed and nodded his understanding. "But don't forget . . . those three stayed with you almost every second. They took turns or were all in here together. Don't be too hard on them now."

The Doma joined him beside the bed and placed her hand on Kix's forehead then, drawing down the sheet, over the bandaged wound site. Both Kix and Rex awaited her prognosis.

Her smile was reassuring. "I think you will be able to get up and move around in a few days. But only a little bit at first. The healing is progressing as it should be."

Kix was pleased. "It'll be nice to get out of this bed."

There was a moment of strangely contented silence during which Kix could not help but feel that he was missing something. He looked at his two companions.

Rex was still Rex, his captain: steady, solid, serious, just as he had always known him. But there was something new there . . . a glint of something behind the grave exterior. As for the Doma, he did not really know her but for her visits the last two days after he'd regained consciousness. He had come to look forward to seeing her, for she had a calming, soothing presence. Kix might have considered that it was almost an ability to pacify a restless spirit . . .

Was that it? Was that what he was sensing in the air?

Kix focused his gaze on his captain then the Doma, then the captain once more.

He certainly would never have called Rex "restless", but there had always been something high-strung about him, a certain way of thinking that was tightly wound about a very narrow definition of what was right and what was wrong – at least, in the warrior sense. Kix had observed the evolution of his captain's character and manner over the months since being assigned to serve under him; but the one thing that had never changed was Rex's absolute certainty that, whatever course of action he might choose—no matter how absurd—it was the most reasonable and correct option. His rigidity was not in choosing which way to go, but in sticking to that path once chosen.

So what Kix was sensing now was not only interesting but amusing. Was it possible—by the Force—was it at all possible that his captain had suddenly grown . . . mellow? Fek and all, he hoped not.

When it became clear that neither of his companions was going to end the silence, he began to wonder if he should even attempt it; but then the cavalry arrived to end the awkwardness.

Jesse, Hardcase and Pitch entered the room.

"Looks like we're just in time to join the party," Hardcase boomed, and Jesse elbowed him in the ribs to remind him that this was still a hospital, even if Kix were now awake and gaining strength daily.

Rex crossed his arms and faced them. "I was just telling Kix how unusual it was that we found him here alone. How many times has he had to throw you all out?"

"Only five or six," Pitch grinned.

"Not true," Kix protested. "Two or three, tops."

"The other times, we left on our own," Jesse completed the picture. He walked to the window and leaned against the wall beside it. "We're just being good squad-mates."

"You are good squad-mates," Kix conceded. "The best."

Seeing that Kix was now surrounded by friends—probably more than he truly wanted at that moment—Rex looked to Maree.

"Looks like he's in good hands," he said. "I think you said there was something you wanted to show me."

"Indeed, there is," Maree replied. She turned to the four members of Saber Squad. "Have a good day, gentlemen. Kix, I will look in on you again this evening."

The moment the captain and the Doma had left the room, Kix focused his attention like a laser. "What's going on between them?"

"What do you mean?" Hardcase asked. "Nothing."

Kix was incredulous. "You can't really be that dense, Hardcase. There's something going on there."

"Wait, you've been out cold for over a week, but you think you can tell from just a few minutes that there's some kind of . . . ya-ta-ta between the captain and Doma Maree? Kix, you're still delirious," Hardcase teased.

"Yeah, I've been unconscious for a week and I can still see more than you, Hardcase," Kix shot back.

"Ya-ta-ta?" This from Pitch.

"Regardless, it's none of our concern," Jesse pointed out. "If you don't want to get your ears chewed off, don't get in the captain's business."

"So, you see it, too," Kix supposed.

Jesse held up a hand. "I'm not commenting on it, Kix. I'm not getting involved. The captain's business is his own. Now, stop being such a gossip."

That moniker effectively shut down Kix's line of questioning.

"Besides," Jesse went on, not wanting to be at odds with his brother first thing out the gate after so many days of uncertainty, "There are more important things for you to focus on: like getting up out of this bed and out of this hospital. You need to be fully recovered when Top comes back, or he'll have our asses for lunch."

"He should already be back with the fleet by now," Pitch added. "Two or three days ago. Shoot, I wonder if he graduated."

"Of course, he graduated!" Hardcase bellowed. "Do you think someone like Top couldn't fekking teach ARC school if he wanted to? I'll bet he not only graduated, but was first in his class – just like the captain."

"The captain was second in his class, Hardcase," Jesse pointed out.

"Eh, well, that doesn't count," Hardcase grumbled.

"Don't let Commander Cody hear you say that," Jesse warned.

"Why not? The commander knows it's true—"

"You're going to get us kicked out of here if you don't stop yelling," Pitch stated.

"Who's yelling? I'm just stating an opinion."

Kix smiled and relaxed. Now, these were his brothers.

"These are the Losla stables."

"Yeah, I can see that." Rex stopped on the threshold. "You weren't planning for us to go out on a ride, were you?"

"Do you know how to ride?"

"Yes," Rex replied. "I've never been on one of these, but I've ridden something similar."

"Then perhaps some other time, we can go for a ride," Maree began, "But this time, I brought you here for a different reason."

Rex sighed his relief. He might know how to ride, but he also knew what parts of his anatomy would be sore for days afterwards. "So, what did you want to show me?"

"One of the mares is going to foal," she replied. "Sometime in the next hour, I would guess. I could feel it when I came to see her this morning."

"But we were together this morning."

"I came here before morning prayer."

Rex was starting to think the life of a Vervien Sister was every bit as rigorous as that of a clone. "Going to foal . . . you mean she's going to give birth."

"Yes," Maree replied. "It's one of the most beautiful, amazing things to watch. I try to be present for every birth for all the Monastica's animals. It's not always possible, but I do my best." She paused. "I wanted to share this with you."

Rex was dumbfounded. This was probably the strangest request, the most bizarre overture of friendship he'd ever experienced. But he dared not refuse her. Clearly, the birth of these animals was of great importance to her; and after what he'd seen in the Taber at the Finirest, it came as no surprise.

"Yes, of course," he said, mustering what enthusiasm he could.

"Splendid!" She took his hand and led him inside the stables, coming to a stall about halfway down the hall. Here two men were already inside with the mother-to-be. The mare was lying on her side with the massive ribcage heaving.

"She's already started, Doma!" one of the brothers announced excitedly. "We weren't sure you were going to make it."

Maree moved forward and crouched down beside the animal. She placed her hand on the distended belly and began speaking in a foreign tongue – it was the same language as that used in the Taber ceremonies, infused with a song-like quality, lilting and lulling.

Rex stood just inside the stall door, wondering what in the universe he was doing here, except that he would have agreed to just about anything in order to spend time with the Doma. But when a gush of amniotic fluid suddenly burst from the ruptured sac, he took a step back into the doorway. The appearance of two spindly hooved legs was the final touch to his already lurching stomach. He bolted out into the corridor, hunched over the nearest bucket, and used every muscle, every ounce of mind over matter to hold down what was threatening to come up.

Maree had seen his hasty exit, but she remained where she was. She felt badly for him in a way; but she trusted he would be alright. Clearly, sharing the beauty of birth had not been the best of ideas. Nearly thirty minutes had passed before the mare had expelled all but the hind legs, but now was a resting time as blood went from mother to baby. At this juncture, Maree got up and went to find Rex.

He was outside the stable, sitting on a stone bench beside a fresh water trough. He still looked flushed.

Maree approached him with a loving, pitying laugh. "Oh, Rex, I'm sorry." She dipped her hands into the cool water and pat his cheeks and forehead. "You look terrible." That was most certainly a lie. The heightened color in his face made him look all the more attractive, even rugged, in her eyes. "I didn't think it would make you squeamish."

"I've seen all sorts of . . . gore on the battlefield and in the field hospitals," Rex explained. "I've been covered in the blood of my own men. But I guess in the heat of battle . . . " He stumbled through his explanation, searching for the right words. "Maybe it never had a chance to register, because it never made me . . . it never made me want to heave my guts." A pause. "I just barely managed to hold it together in there."

"Oh my . . . Rex, please forgive me." She didn't sound as sorry as she did amused, but Rex was willing to forget that as she dipped her hands once again and cooled his face.

Her touch was so soft . . .

Without conscious thought, he reached up, took one of her hands in his own, and kissed her palm, letting his lips linger against the cool, wet skin a moment before turning his cheek into her caress.

Maree stood looking down at him with an affection that was perhaps not so pure as she would have liked. What she felt for him and this spontaneous display of his own helplessness in the face of feelings with which he was unfamiliar, rustled the leaves in her heart, blowing away some of the long years of moldy routine that had cluttered the depths of her faithfulness.

"Rex," she said, her voice little more than a whisper but containing a power Rex could not imagine resisting.

When he looked up at her, she found much to love in the amber eyes that, though shared with his brothers, were altogether different, a mirror to his soul. And it was that soul that captivated her.

"Come back inside with me."

Those words—not at all what Rex had hoped to hear—broke the spell for both of them.

"I can't," Rex refused. "I'm just starting to feel better. If I go back in there—"

"Trust me. It's just about over. There's nothing else to make you feel . . . like you're going to heave your guts."

Rex drew in a deep breath, and when the Doma took his hands and drew him to his feet, he went with her, though unwillingly. At the entrance to the stall, he hesitated and would only go to the threshold.

"I'll look on from here," he insisted.

But it was as the Doma had said. The baby was fully out now, the mother had stomped the umbilical cord in two, and was nuzzling the newborn as it lay in the straw. Rex decided he could manage a step closer. Maree had already gone over to check on both baby and mother.

"Another successful birth, a healthy colt," she said with a smile of genuine, unfettered joy. She looked to Rex. "What shall we name him?"

Rex normally would have shied away from such a question; what part did he have in naming this animal? The Doma including him in the decision was silly. But for reasons even he himself could not comprehend, he answered right away and without a hint of derision. "Vod."

"Vod?"

"It's Mandalorian for brother."

Maree smiled. "Vod it is. Come closer and see him. He'll be standing very soon."

Rex came a few steps closer, seeing that what had appeared as a coat of dark hair was really still the remnants of afterbirth. Despite this discovery, he managed to keep the contents of his stomach in his stomach.

Until the mare decided it was time to clean off her progeny; and like any good Losla mother, the best way to do that was to consume the mess—

"I think that's enough—" Rex choked, but this time Maree was there to escort him out into the sunshine.

"Do you need something to settle your stomach?" she asked, guiding him back to the stone bench.

"No, just . . . give me a few minutes."

She sat down beside him, pat his leg, and laughed. "You are a wonder, Captain."

"I know, I know," he joked feebly, then after a few seconds, "What? No more Rex? Did this episode make me lose that privilege?"

"Not at all, Rex." She leaned forward and looked back at him. "But you've yet to call me Maree."

That was the truth, and he would not try to find a way around it. She believed him to be honest, and so he was. "It still doesn't feel right. Hearing you call me Rex is . . . acceptable. But I still . . . I still feel like you're . . . you're in a position that . . . demands greater respect."

"I understand." And she did. She recalled how long it had taken for Au-Mikiel, even as head of the Austeniens, to address her by her name without her title. As a religious leader, she had come to expect a certain degree of formality from those with whom she dealt. But she had never expected to be dealing with someone like the man beside her now.

After a few seconds, Rex spoke again. "But there is something I'd like to do, something I'd like to see."

"What is that?"

"I'd like to go to the Taber," he replied. "I want to see you walk across the floor."

Maree smiled. "You want to see the animals come to life."

"As long as they can't get out of there and cause any harm . . . or give birth in front of me."

"I can assure you, neither of those things will happen," Maree smiled. She got to her feet, and Rex stood up beside her.

"I think I might need your arm this time," he jested.

"I would be happy of it." She held out her arm.

"And one more thing," Rex said, as they began walking. "You won't tell my men about this, will you?"

"Not a word," Maree replied, and even though she knew he was referring to his failure at the birthing, she added with meaning, "Not about any of it."

Fels Au-Gehen looked out the window of his office.

"Where is she?" he asked anxiously, speaking only to himself, for there was no one else in the room. Then he returned to pacing.

He had spent the entire morning vacillating between praying and fretting.

Last night, he had heard the most scandalous tale; and while he might have considered some of the details to be exaggerated, he knew the main points were true, for he had seen some things for himself.

He had been in the pavilion last night when the clones had arrived and completely debased the event by drawing the attention of every girl, young lady, and woman in the place – including the ni-Doma! – taking turns with them out the floor, dancing with an abandon that was better suited to the bawdy halls of Heembab and Gonow than the holy ground of the Monastica.

True, the young girls were always foolish, but the presence of the clones had made them bold, robbed them of their dignity as young ladies, and made them forward, aggressive things competing for the attention of men who should have known better than to lavish such attention on young, love-struck girls.

And then there had been the one—the one they all called the story-teller (Au-Gehen did not know his real name, nor did he care to know it), who had invited Yusani to dance, building the little girl's hopes and making her dream that someday, somewhere there just might be a prince waiting for her. Or at least a soldier. Thoughtless, thoughtless gesture!

But these infractions were but as specks of dust compared to the mountain that was the Doma's own indiscretions with the soldiers' captain. She had asked him to dance! And if that had not been shameful enough, no, she'd gone off alone with him for a walk in the darkness, prompting the children to follow like voyeurs, eager to catch their spiritual guide giving in to temptation. She had led the children on a chase. She had pushed him into the water. They had been seen walking arm in arm. It was all the children and the girls had been talking about this morning. And it was hardly becoming of a Vervien to be the center of such gossip.

Clearly, the Doma had been enraptured by this man, and the rules of the Monastica itself were being threatened by these interlopers.

Au-Gehen had hoped that the Me'Ente Loge Festival would have refocused the Doma's attention on the serious matter of being the First Servant. He'd hoped that everyone's attention would be redirected towards matters holy and pure.

But quite the opposite had happened.

If things continued on this way, both religious orders could collapse into decadency, for he knew how easily people fell to evil inclinations.

And so he had sent for Sister So'Nodor. She, better than anyone else, understood the importance of protecting the children from the sinister forces of darkness.

Now, as he waited for her arrival, his thoughts were going in circles, and he did not like the direction they were taking him.

As he passed by the window, he saw movement outside. It was So'Nodor. Several seconds later, a knock came at the door. He let her in and closed the door behind her.

"Sister, the very things we have feared are coming to pass," he began. No civilities, no pleasantries. This was too serious a matter to drape behind courtesy.

"I had no question why you were summoning me," So'Nodor said with a sigh. "Not after last night."

"Even the Doma has fallen victim to the charms of these men, to the newness they present," Au-Gehen stated, his voice rife with alarm and sadness. "Evil is upon us."

"The clones themselves are not evil," So'Nodor pointed out. "But they bring with them a lack of wisdom and judgment that can only be detrimental to our way of life."

"Whether they are evil themselves or mere instruments of evil, the result is the same," Au-Gehen replied."They have enchanted everyone, and their influence can end up destroying all that we have worked for in the name of the Creator."

"Will they not be leaving soon?"

"No one can say that for sure. We do not even know if Au-Trava made it to Heembab. But we do know that the Separatists came here looking for them, and if they come again and find them, we will all be in danger."

So'Nodor gave a heavy, almost hopeless sigh. "I can try talking to the Doma again. Or perhaps we can prevail on Au-Mikiel."

"The Doma will not listen," Au-Gehen protested. "She is beguiled by their captain. Fels Au-Mikiel thinks they are heroes. He will not ask them to moderate their behavior."

"Then all we can do is wait until they are rescued by the Republic."

Au-Gehen eyed her closely, trying to discern if her concern was as great as his, if her desperation was equal to his own. "There is another option." He went to his desk and drew out the communicator the Separatist admiral had given him. "We can turn them over to the Separatists."

In truth, he had made that decision even before So'Nodor had come to his room. But he needed her agreement to bolster his own wavering conviction.

"They would become prisoners of war," So'Nodor pointed out. "Or casualties." A pause. "Is it within our morality to hand over these men to what we know will be, at the very least, captivity? At the worst, death."

"To preserve our way of life . . . yes," Au-Gehen replied. "Do we put our devotion to the Creator first? Or these men?"

So'Nodor was silent for a long time. At last, she asked, "Have you prayed about it?"

"I have."

"And has the Creator shown you a sign?"

He held up the communicator. "This is his sign. He put it within my ability to remove this scourge. You say the clones themselves are not evil, and you may be correct. But the fact remains that they must be removed – and as soon as possible. We cannot wait in the hopes that their own fleet will come for them soon. We do not know that."

"I concur," So'Nodor replied.

Au-Gehen was somewhat surprised by her ready acceptance. He cleared his throat to buy some time while deciding what to say next.

"So, we are in agreement then, that we should turn them over to the Separatists," he said as a manner of confirmation.

"It is agreed."

Now that the decision had been made, Au-Gehen felt the agitation and nervous anxiety leave his body. The hard part was over. Now, the only question that remained was to how to effect the clones' removal without any fighting or bloodshed. The clones would not agree to be handed over, and the Doma and Au-Mikiel certainly would not permit them to be placed in the hands of the enemy.

There had to be some way to deliver them to the Separatists, some way to remove the parasite, the temptation, without so great a disruption that it would end up destroying both orders anyways.

This was the dilemma.

And Au-Gehen and So'Nodor needed to find a resolution quickly.

The flowing limbs, the boundless depths beneath where he was standing beside the Doma, the appearance of figures rising towards and then retreating from the surface.

It was beyond Rex's comprehension, and he was not embarrassed to admit it.

"How do you do this?" he asked.

"It is not something I do," Maree replied. "It is something these souls recognize."

"What, you mean they recognize you?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "They recognize that I am their conduit. Like all creation, they, too, are anxious for the gates of eternity to open. The Creator brought them forth into this life, and he will bring them forth into the next." She crouched down and placed her palm against the floor. "All creation waits."

Rex watched as a rapid succession of animals came to the surface where the Doma's hand was pressed. A subtle glow began to spread from her palms to her fingers.

When she stood up and reached out her hand towards Rex, he instinctively took a step back.

"Are you suddenly afraid of me, Captain?" she asked.

"No, just your hand. What's that light?"

She ignored his question and reached out once again.

This time, Rex did not retreat as she placed her hand against his side. He flinched at the coolness that surged from her hand into his body, a transfer so fast and intense that it was over in a fraction of a second.

When it had passed, not only was the tenderness in his side gone, but so were the lingering feelings of queasiness from earlier that morning, the ever-present and dull ache in shoulder, and every other chronic twinge or pang that his life as a soldier had visited upon him.

"What—what did you do?" he asked.

She only smiled at him.

"You healed everything?"

"No," she deferred. "Not even the greatest among us can heal with a touch." A pause. "What you felt was the strength and the goodness of even the tiniest part of a perfected soul. Goodness has the power to . . . make you feel the way you just did, as if all the woes have been lifted, the injuries healed. Goodness makes life not just tolerable, but worth living. It is something you already possess in abundance, as I have told you. But to feel it from another, to experience its essence . . ."

Rex had no idea what to make of this explanation. "I don't know what to say."

"No words are necessary," Maree replied.

"Doma?"

Both Maree and Rex turned to see Nova Merika. Neither of them had noticed her approach.

"Yes, Merika?"

"I am just coming to remind you about the midday meal with the pilgrims."

"Ah! Is it so late already? The morning has gone by very quickly," Maree remarked.

"In one hour," Merika replied.

Maree turned to Rex. "Will you join us?"

"It would be an honor," Rex accepted. "Are all my brothers invited?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll go round them up," he grinned. "They're spread all over the place."

"I will meet you at the pavilion in one hour," she replied. "I need to spend some time first in prayer."

"More prayer?" He quipped with a wink.

"You can never spend too much time in prayer," Maree said with a wink of her own.

Rex gave a single nod. "I'll see you at the pavilion." He hesitated only a moment before heading towards the doors, smiling as he went.

What was happening to him? Here he was agreeing to all sorts of things he never would have agreed to before. Dancing in front of his brothers. Suspending his disbelief long enough to participate in spiritual observances. Asking for a garden tour. Animal birthing – sort of. A meal with religious pilgrims.

He would never have thought that such things could have brought him any kind of joy; but then, he had never had these kinds of feelings for anyone before. He wasn't even sure exactly what the feelings were; he only knew that his dislike and fear of the Doma had turned into something very different; and he savored the anticipation of seeing her. He chuckled to himself. Why, he might even consider gagging through another Losla birth if it meant he could feel her hands on his face again . . .

He entered the vestibule and had opened the door to go outside when he ran into Au-Gehen coming in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, brother," Rex apologized.

Au-Gehen regarded him with a sort of neutral curiosity.

"I am surprised to see you here, Captain," he stated. "Were you praying?"

Rex almost laughed at the idea, but he knew that would be rude and insulting. "No, no. No praying. I was with the Doma."

"Oh?"

Rex did not respond right away. He had formed the impression early on that Au-Gehen did not particularly care for him and his brothers. He wasn't sure why the brother didn't like them, and he was not of a mind to inquire. He was in a very good mood, and that gave him the fortitude to return Au-Gehen's disdain with an attempt at cordiality.

"I wanted to see the animals in the floor come alive," he admitted. "I asked her to do it."

"I see," Au-Gehen said in a nasal tone. "Were you entertained?"

"It's a very incredible thing to see," Rex replied earnestly.

"Yes."

Rex decided to try harder. These brothers and sisters were close to Maree, an important part of her life, and for that reason, it was worth it to him to be amiable in the face of Au-Gehen's frosty demeanor.

"She put her hand on the floor and then touched my side," he went on. "I'd never felt anything like it."

His heart sank as he saw that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he had hoped.

Au-Gehen appeared to be struck speechless. At length, he said, "She did that for you?"

Rex wondered if he had said something wrong. "Well . . . yes."

The brother stared at him, and there was something in that gaze that made Rex feel terribly uncomfortable. But then Au-Gehen gave what was clearly a forced smile and a nod.

"I am sure she had her reasons. Good afternoon." Then he moved passed him and went into the sanctuary.

And Rex, bemused by the encounter, continued on his way to the Seiba Tops.

"It isn't often I come before you asking something for myself. The Office of Doma exists solely to do good for others and to protect those souls that you have entrusted to me. That, I know." Maree raised her eyes towards the altar. "But Lord and Creator of All, I come to you now, asking for your help; for only you know what is in my heart. You know better than I do, the truth of my feelings for this man.

"I have sinned against you and violated your most simple rule with regard to the souls in my charge. I ask your mercy and forgiveness. But even more . . . I ask you, I beg you . . . show me the proper way to love him." Despite the heaviness of her words and tone, her heart was light. She trusted her god to show her the way, and she knew she could be fully open and honest with the deity, in that he already knew her every thought and action. "For you know that my feelings for him are . . . not what they should be, and if I continue on this way, I may abuse the power of the souls again." She paused. "Great and glorious Creator, he is a good man. You see and you know how good he is. How long has it been since you have sent someone like him across my path? I think . . . never. There is no one else like him, and I do not want to do wrong by him or by you, my god. Show me. Please, show me how to love him."

"Soldier Echo! Soldier Echo!"

Echo knew the voice before he'd even seen the caller. A broad smile came naturally as he turned around.

"Ah, Yusani," he said, hunkering down as the little girl came running gracelessly to him. He picked her up. "I knew it was my little dancing butterbur."

Beside him, Fives shook his head and grinned. "Butterbur?"

"Will you play?" she asked him.

"Play? Don't you have lessons today?" Echo asked.

She looked at him without understanding.

"Lessons? Classes? School?"

Comprehension dawned in her face. "No school! Festabul!"

Echo warmed at this mispronunciation. "Of course, we can play."

He looked around. He and Fives had just come back from a dip in the hot springs and were just short of reaching the Seiba Tops.

"Did you come all the way here by yourself?" he asked, somewhat surprised that a little girl would be allowed to roam so freely without an adult.

Yusani nodded fervently.

"Well, then, you must really want to play with me," Echo said. "I am honored." A pause. "This is my brother, Fives."

"Fives," she repeated. "Fives, Fives, Fives, Fives." She leaned out in Echo's arms and touched her tiny—and somewhat dirty—fingers to Fives' perfectly trimmed beard. Apparently, she found something very funny about his facial hair, for it made her laugh as she continued to investigate it.

"You like this, huh?" Fives said, then he raised his eyes as her hand went to the stylized "5" tattooed just below his hairline on the right side of his forehead. He had only just gotten the thing a week before they'd left on the Pylotta mission, and he tended to forget that it was even there.

"This Five," Yusani stated.

"Yep, that's right. That's me: Fives."

"Fives play, too?"

Fives considered. He met Echo's eyes and could see his brother was wondering what the answer would be. He knew the answer Echo was expecting. Well, this time, Fives decided he would surprise his brother.

"Sure, why not?"

After all, it seemed they had all the time in the world.

They had no way of knowing that time was running out.

I think CT-782 called it with Au-Gehen from the outset! You were right!