Chapter 28 Setting the Trap

"Come closer, closer. How many lies would you ascribe to me? Am I the Prince of Lies, as you claim? I need only set the trap. Of lures, I have no need. You will come of your own accord. I need only wait."

A Conversation with Satan
Saint Blaise

Bounce snagged a piece of fruit from the bowl in Little Ride's room. "Do you think Commander Cody and the others made it?"

"I guess we'll find out in a few days," Little Ride replied from where he had stretched out across his bed. "Being out of contact like this is for the birds."

Tip, feet kicked up and leaning back against the headboard, added, "It may be rotten as far as knowing what's going on with the commander, but it's kind of nice not to be inundated with nothing but war news all day." A pause. "Still, I can't help wondering what the battalion is doing and how our chaps are managing."

"Bounce, please try to leave me a little something," Little Ride chided, seeing his brother already looking over the bowl for another snack, even though he'd not finished the one in his hand.

"Why you don't weigh as much as a bantha is beyond me," Zinger teased. "Your nickname should be Bottomless."

"Bottomless Pit," Tip corrected. "He sure as hell isn't bottomless."

Bounce took it all in stride. "Well, I'm glad to know you've had occasion to take notice of my finer physical qualities, Tip."

"Well, what else is there to look at?" Tip asked in an exaggerated dramatic fashion. "The only female we see on a regular basis is Commander Tano, and she's still just a girl. Plus, if you look at her the wrong way, General Skywalker's death glare isn't far behind." He chuckled. "Personally, I like missions with General Secura. Now there's a woman with all the fixings."

"Good grief," Little Ride droned, rolling his eyes and laughing.

"Yeah, but how often do we get to go on missions with her?" Zinger lamented. "Bly's one lucky bastard."

"You can say that again," Tip agreed.

"I'll tell you what really stinks," Bounce said. "We're here with more women than we've ever been around in our entire lives, and they're all off-limits."

Zinger coughed a laugh. "Yeah, how 'bout that?"

"Not all of them are Sisters," Tip pointed out.

"Yeah, but the ones who aren't are pretty young," Bounce replied.

"Not to mention, we won't be here much longer, so there's no sense in starting anything," Little Ride said, always the voice of reason.

For the first time, Puzzle, who was sitting in the chair beside Bounce's foraging table, spoke up. "The commander would box our ears if even one of us did anything to bring dishonor on the 212th. So talk about it, laugh about it, fantasize about it, but that's the limit. Muck this up, and we'll end up on escort detail for the duration."

"He's right, you know," Zinger concurred. "The commander's a gentleman, and he expects us to be gentlemen, as well."

A brief silence followed before Bounce said with his characteristic frankness, "It's probably wrong for me to say this, but part of me doesn't want to leave this place."

"I know what you mean, brother," Tip nodded. "Part of me wants to stay; part of me wants to be back with the rest of the battalion."

"Well, there's really no choice, unless you want to be a deserter," Zinger grinned. "And we'd never let that happen. We started the war together. We're going to finish it together."

Puzzle sighed but not in a sad way. "We can only hope."

Zinger replied with feeling. "If there's one thing working alongside General Kenobi has taught us, it's that there's always hope."

"It's hopeless. The commo's aren't picking up any transmissions, no beacons, nothing." Obiwan frowned at the data feeds coming into his data pad from the team in charge of searching for any electronic sign of the missing ship. "We won't be able to find them remotely. If we're going to have any chance, we're going to have to go search for them physically."

"That's what I've been telling you from the start," Anakin said, surprised at how much he sounded like his own padawan at the moment. Snippy would have been an accurate description of his tone. He corralled his decorum and took on a more creditable demeanor. "It makes no sense for the fleet to remain here. At least, not all of the fleet. We've lost Dooku's scent, and it doesn't take an entire battle group to search for him. We can take the Resolute—or even a shuttle—and go find them." A pause, and then he brought out his ace. "Obiwan, they have what might turn out to be critical data. If it's not worth it to go after the men, isn't it worth it to try and retrieve the information?"

Obiwan cast a sharp glance at his former padawan. "I never said it wasn't worth it to go after the men. It's not only the 501st that had men on that shuttle, Anakin. My commander and some of his best troops were onboard, too. But you and I have been through this before. You can't put your personal feelings and your attachment to your men ahead of the mission. How many times must I tell you this?"

"We could have still carried out this mission and sent a team to search for the missing shuttle," Anakin deferred. "There was no reason both things couldn't have happened at the same time."

"Now, on that count, you may very well be right," Obiwan admitted. "But that decision point has passed, and we now can choose to send a search party without risking the mission—"

"Because there is no mission," Anakin interjected pointedly. "There hasn't been a mission since we got to Florum, and there's no mission here in Nefer. If Dooku had been in either place, he was long gone by the time we arrived. We've been wasting time, and our men could be in serious trouble."

"Then let's stop wasting time now," Obiwan said, careful not to respond to Anakin's emotions with his own display. Instead, he was stolid and even. "Inform Admiral Yularen that the Resolute will proceed back towards Pylotta. Admiral Maali will be placed in command of the battle group in the interim."

Anakin nodded smartly. "'Bout time."

Rex liked watching her pray.

He was actually amused at the thought, but the truth was that watching Maree pray induced something languid and peaceful within him. He did not stay beside her as she went through her devotions; rather, he walked about the Taber, studying its architecture, its signs and symbols, the statues and lamps and glass fixtures. And whenever he looked back to see the Doma still kneeling before the statue of Me'Ente Loge, he felt a warmth in his chest that he was loathe to abandon.

But if Cody had been successful in his mission, it would all be coming to an end soon, and Rex knew that.

He had already set the stage for their parting; yet, in a strange way, he wanted to feel to the deepest intensity, the final days or hours leading up to that moment. For he feared that once he was gone from this place, back in the throes of battle, back to seeing his brothers die around him, back to doing everything in his power to protect his general . . . he feared that future would crowd out this present.

He wanted to take more with him than just memories. He wanted to take the full thrust of his emotions.

It was the sort of wish only the very young or the very innocent would have made. And precisely the sort of thing the clones had been bred not to do.

The Doma remained in prayer for nearly two hours, but when she was finished, she approached Rex, who watched, with unadulterated fascination, the living floor beneath her.

"So, where are you off to now?" he asked.

"Wherever you want to go," came the reply.

"Do you want to go see how the baby is doing?"

"Truly, Rex, he's hardly a baby—oh! Oh, you mean the Losla? Vod?"

Rex knit his brows together. "Who did you think I meant?"

Maree shook her head. "Never mind. I misunderstood you."

"You thought I meant Kix," he grinned.

She colored. "I thought you were trying to be funny."

Rex gave a deep, quiet laugh. "That is pretty funny, even if it's not what I meant. No, I meant Vod. Do you want to go see how he's doing?"

"I'd love that," she replied. "And while we're at it, we can stop and check on the other baby, as well."

"Now, you're trying to be funny," Rex poked. "Good grief, don't ever let Kix hear you call him that. It's bad enough that his squad mates forget that he could probably take down every one them – well, except Top." A curious affection glinted in his eye. "I don't think they'll ever get past their . . . over-protectiveness. Kix tolerates it, because the five of them are like minkas in a mother's pouch." It was an arcane expression but one that Rex liked the sound of. "But I think he'd be happy if once in a while, they'd remember that he can hold his own, and then some."

"You've alluded to his past—their past—several times," Maree observed. "Soon my curiosity will exceed my ability to control it."

Rex grinned. "Ask them to tell you the story. I only came in at the end of it." He puffed up with pride, which, while genuine, was presented as melodramatic and self-deprecating. "To save the day, of course."

"Of course," she mimicked. "Perhaps I will ask them. They're not exactly shy types."

"Hardly."

"Speaking of telling stories," Rex segued. "One of the sisters from the school asked me if we'd come and talk to the kids tomorrow."

Maree was clearly surprised. "Really? Who asked you?"

"I don't remember her name," Rex replied. "Nadine, Madine—"

"Nareen?"

"Yes, that's it."

The Doma looked perplexed. "And Sister So'Nodor approved this? I would be pleasantly surprised if that were the case."

"She said she checked with Sister So'Nodor."

"Hm." Maree was silent and thoughtful for several seconds, then she asked, "What did you tell her?"

"I accepted," Rex replied. "I didn't think you would mind." He paused. "I, uh, I hadn't personally planned to go there myself. There are plenty of my brothers who would be happy to pass hours telling all kinds of stories." He turned to regard her sincerely. "I would rather spend that time with you, if I can."

"You will get no argument from me," she said with a sweet smile. "I think we have both . . . come to the same conclusion regarding the . . . proper terms of our friendship." With that she reached for his hand. "Shall we go make our visits?"

As it turned out, both Vod and Kix were asleep by the time they arrived, respectively, and so they left them both undisturbed.

As they headed back through the botanical garden, Rex commented on the massive exodus of pilgrims as they reformed their caravans and headed towards the main gate.

"It amazes me that so many people are willing to make such a dangerous journey, especially with so many small children."

"There is safety in numbers," Maree replied. "I'm sure you would agree with that."

"Unless you're up against greater numbers," Rex replied. "Then the idea of safety isn't enough. You have to rely on your wits and your skill. And sometimes, no matter how well prepared you are, it just comes down to luck."

"I do not believe in luck," she stated.

"Fate?"

"I believe everything happens as it should . . . even though we may not understand why," Maree explained. "Just like the way you and your men ended up here. That's something no one would ever have asked for, yet here you are. Ten days ago, I did not know that Captain Rex existed. Now . . . I can't imagine a universe where he doesn't exist."

Rex was silent.

"Does it make you feel uncomfortable to hear me say that?" she asked.

"No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable," he answered. "I just don't want to put you in a difficult position again." He hesitated. "And I have to be mindful of my own . . . "

"Your own feelings?"

He fixed her with a serious stare. "My own desires."

"I see," she said with understanding. "Then know that I trust you, Rex."

And in some oblique way, her words appealed to his ego, his sense of duty and honor. There were certain ways men were supposed to treat women, and he firmly believed in upholding those mores. He only wondered if that belief was strong enough to prevail over the more carnal aspects of his nature. But then he only had to remind himself of his template. Jango Fett had not been a slave to his passions. He had been a man who weighed options and chose his own path. He was disciplined and steadfast.

Those were the traits Rex considered worth developing, and he had worked hard from the earliest moments of conscious memory to be the best. The best soldier, the best leader, the best first-in-command. True, it seemed he'd indulged a bit more of the unorthodox side of Fett than most of his brothers, but it was his drive to succeed that had put him out front—not his penchant for doing things that weren't part of the rulebook.

And then General Skywalker had come along and shown him that the journey to achieving the moniker of "the best" had many possible routes. Their command pairing had been a match made in heaven, if there was such a place. No general could have been better suited to Rex; and no clone officer would have complemented Skywalker to the same degree. They were a team that confounded the normalities, cast off the regimented manner of doing things, and had each other's back no matter the consequences.

And he had seen the way General Skywalker treated women . . . one woman, in particular.

"I want you to trust me," he replied.

The breeze began picking up in the treetops, bringing a shower of pods down upon them as they walked on. It was like walking through a rain storm without the rain.

At length, Rex asked, "So, do you mind if I skip school tomorrow and spend the time with you?"

"You needn't ask," she replied. "I am happy to be with you as much as I can. And I'm sure your men can handle a bunch of school children."

It was well after midnight by the time Rex returned to the Seiba Tops, and he was not at all surprised to find several of his men congregated around one of the fire pits, enjoying the coolness of the desert night with only the low smolder of embers to take the edge off.

"Late night, gentlemen?" came his greeting.

The men got to their feet. "Sir, we didn't hear you coming," March apologized for their lack of bearing.

"At ease," Rex said easily.

"Burning the midnight oil, Captain?" Ajax asked, settling back down onto the log he'd been using as a seat.

Rex gave a close-mouthed grin. "Just making the most of whatever time we have left here."

"There can't be much more," March noted. "Do you think Commander Cody made it?"

"Absolutely." Rex's answer was almost reflexive, as if the idea of Cody failing at any undertaking was not even a possibility. Rex had never really considered if such confidence might be a dangerous precedent. His faith in the commander was as steady as his faith in General Skywalker.

"Which means, we'll probably be leaving here in the next three or four days," Keeper put forth.

"That seems likely," Rex replied, then narrowing his eyes, "What are you doing out here, Keep?" He shortened the name—something no one else did—a nickname reserved for the 501st captain alone. "You should be inside getting some rest. You're still convalescing."

"I'm just relaxing, Captain," Keeper replied. "It's nice out, and none of us were tired."

Rex grumbled deep his throat. "Okay, then, but don't overdo it." A pause. "Where's everyone else?"

"They all went for a swim," March replied.

"Ah, well then, pass this on to them when they come back," Rex began. "You're all making an appearance at the school tomorrow afternoon, after the midday meal. They want you to come talk to the kids."

"Wow, I didn't think that was ever going to happen," March said with surprise. "They brought it up a few days ago, but nothing ever came of it."

"One of the sisters approached me after the pilgrims' lunch and asked if we'd come," Rex replied.

"And you accepted?" March sounded somewhat incredulous.

"Why not?" Rex replied. "What harm can it do?"

"I don't know, Sir," Ajax warned with a chuckle. "Double Barrel around a bunch of little kids. He'll be telling them how he took off the head of a battle droid from five hundred meters or something."

"And Pitch will probably explain the most economical way to blow up whatever building we're in," Keeper added with a grin.

"DB has already been spending time with the kids," Rex replied. "You've seen it yourself. They love him." He gave a thoughtful pause. "But the teachers might have an issue with his . . . love of weaponry. You're right, Ajax. It might be better to keep him with me instead of letting him go to the assembly. Him and Hardcase. Pitch is level-headed enough not to go overboard, but those two . . . "

"Keep them with you?" Keeper posed. "Are you not going, Sir?"

"No, I've got other things I want to do," Rex replied. "And I'll put those two to work on something."

"DB will be disappointed not to go," Ajax stated. "I think he loves being around those kids more than any of us."

"He'll still get to be around them, just not in front of all the teachers," Rex replied. "And definitely not in front of Sister So'Nodor." A pause. "I'm turning in for the night. Make sure you tell the others about tomorrow. Tell Jesse to come see me tomorrow morning, and I'll give him all the details."

"We'll do, Captain."

"Have a good night, Sir."

A good night.

It would be a good night.

But it would not be the night he wanted.

As he headed towards his quarters, his thoughts went back to less than an hour ago when he had said good-night to Maree on the steps outside her residence. It had been the sort of reserved parting that was appropriate for their relationship; a polite and well-mannered well-wishing that suitably masked—or at least appeared to do so—the still-roiling undercurrents of attraction and desire.

The walk from her residence back to the Seiba Tops had been one of the loneliest he'd ever taken. He'd actually given rueful consideration to the idea that it might have been better had his opinion of her remained cool, had he maintained his distance and not allowed himself to entertain—and even encourage—the more lustful thoughts that had wended their way into his consciousness.

Now, as he entered his quarters, stripped off his clothing, and sunk down into the plush softness of his bed, he fought with himself over the thoughts demanding his attention and indulgence. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to see the body beneath the skeins of cloth. He wanted to feel that body against his own. He wanted to touch with his hands and his mouth. He wanted to indulge the exotic, spicy scent of her skin and hair. He wanted to hear her voice and feel her breath, warm against his cheek.

And yet . . . beyond that, he could envisage nothing more.

It was not that he could not picture the acts themselves, for he knew the physiology of sexual contact, even though he had never experienced it. Many times his imagination had taken him where his body had not yet been. The demands of war had left him little opportunity to do more than fantasize. On top of that, he was not easily impressed. Pretty faces and sumptuous bodies might send his brothers into a tizzy, but a woman's physical attributes had never been enough to pry Rex away from his somewhat peculiar belief that, in the short life of a clone, there was no time for making bad choices, no time for dalliances with women who did not present him with what he felt were the necessary qualities in a good woman.

His only problem was that he really had no idea what those qualities were, and that made discerning them in his female companions a difficult and frustrating task. And Rex did not long tolerate frustration.

He hugged one of the pillows to his chest and reproved himself. "How could you let yourself feel this way about someone you can't have? You said all that stuff to her this afternoon, but can you live by it now?" A pause. "Damn it, she said she trusts you. You'd better make sure you don't do anything to betray that trust. You've got to stop thinking about her in that way."

But no matter how hard he tried to distract his thoughts, they repeatedly came back to the same crux.

His mind was going nowhere fast, and only the gentle lull of sleep finally put an end to the unanswerable dilemma.

"Damn, I'd forgotten how uncomfortable this stuff is," Sixer complained, tugging and adjusting his armor.

Sempe snickered. "We've spent almost every day of the last year living in it. You should be used to it by now."

"I was," Sixer retorted. "Until I felt what it was like to wear something truly comfortable." A pause. "They didn't need to request we wear our armor. We've been entertaining those kids just fine without it."

"I guess they figured it would be interesting for the kids to see us in our uniforms," Sempe replied. He put a hand on his squad mate's shoulder. "Besides, this is your fault. If you hadn't been so hot to see that sister at lunch, we could have skated out without her seeing us, and she never would have mentioned the bit about wearing our uniforms."

"Eh, she would have still found someone else to tell. At least this way, I got a good look at her." Sixer nodded appreciatively. "And it was a nice view."

Ajax appeared in their doorway. "What was a good view?"

Sixer was all grins. "The going-away angle on Sister Nareen."

"And I think that's enough said on that." This came from Jesse, who nudged Ajax through the door and entered right behind him.

"Ah, Jesse, you know how to suck the fun right out of a room," Sixer teased.

Jesse cast him a reproachful eye, but there was good humor behind it. "And as a fellow lieutenant, you should know to moderate your behavior. We're supposed to set the examples for the others." A pause. "Isn't that right, Sempe?"

Sempe, a corporal, inclined his head in agreement. "Without a doubt, Lieutenant." Then looking at Sixer with a meek grin. "Us being squad mates, I tend to forget you're my superior officer. You sure don't act like it—Sir."

Sixer regarded him with a fond smile. "That's because I don't view you as anything but an equal. And in a lot of cases, I think you're a better man than I am."

"Oh, good grief, are we going to have to break out the hankies?" Jesse prodded in dramatic fashion.

But Sixer was one up on him. "Uh, does the name Kix mean anything to you?"

Jesse could not stifle the gentle laughed that gurgled up his throat. "Point taken." He put his arm around Sixer's shoulders. "Now, I think we'd better get headed over there."

"The sister said no weapons," Sixer pointed out. "But I think they complete the ensemble."

"Ensemble?" Sempe mocked.

"No weapons means no weapons," Jesse stated. "They may not care if the kids see us using our blasters out here, but I can understand why they wouldn't want them in the school itself. They're peaceful people. They probably don't want to promote anything they see as violent." A pause. "Now, let's round up the rest and get going."

"I still can't believe the captain put me on this bogus duty," Double Barrel grunted. "I mean, normally, I'd love cleaning weapons, but this was just an excuse so I couldn't go with the others to the school."

Hardcase simpered. "Do you blame him? You're a bigger killing machine than I am. As soon as you got up and started giving your droid count, and your eyes going all wide and crazy, they'd have to yank you out of there. The captain's not going to take that chance."

"He let Pitch go," DB pointed out.

"Well, that may not have been the best call, but I guess we'll hear about it if he starts getting too graphic," Hardcase shrugged. "Jesse can usually keep him in line."

"What, he can't keep you in line?" DB asked pointedly.

Hardcase grinned wickedly. "Nobody can."

"Except?"

"Yes, okay. The captain can. But that doesn't count," Hardcase deferred. "He's got the power of General Skywalker behind him. I swear, they become more alike every day."

A brief silence followed, then DB spoke wistfully. "You know the one thing I do miss?"

"What's that?"

DB picked up his DC-15, which had been modified into a sniper rifle, and aligned the sights. "I miss picking 'em off. One-by-one from a kilometer away. They never even know I've made them."

"Yeah, you see, that's the sort of thing the captain probably figures school kids don't need to hear," Hardcase grinned. "But I'm with you. I kind of miss all the firepower." He laughed. "We do sound like war-mongers, don't we?"

"Neh," DB countered. "Just two guys who love their guns."

"Oh, welcome! Wonderful, wonderful!" Sister Nareen greeted her star guests with enthusiasm. "And by the Creator, you all look so different in your armor! So military! The children will be thrilled. They're already so excited, it was hard to keep their attention this morning."

"We appreciate the invitation," Jesse said courteously. "I hope we won't disappoint."

Nareen laughed, a brilliant and uplifting sound. "I don't think that's possible."

She ushered them into a large room that looked, for all intents and purposes, like a gymnasium. On one side was a small, raised platform with chairs on it.

"Here, this is where you'll be sitting," Nareen explained. "The children will sit on the floor."

"Okay," Jesse replied. He wasn't fond of the idea of sitting on a stage with everyone staring at him and his brothers, but he conceded it would be the best way to address the children and make sure everyone could see and hear them.

"Please, please, have a seat, and I will go let the Matrice know that she can start sending the children down."

Nareen hurried off and returned in less than five minutes. The first classes began arriving immediately behind her. They moved to areas on the floor that must have been predesignated and sat down in orderly groups. Within fifteen minutes, the entire room was full of children and teachers.

Sister So'Nodor herself gave the introduction, expressing her gratitude on behalf of the entire school, to the "honored guests who have chosen to spend the afternoon telling us what it's like to be a soldier in the Grand Army of the Republic." She then turned the floor over to Jesse.

And to the amazement of his brothers, Jesse rose to the occasion as if it were second nature to him.

"Well, I already recognize many faces out there. I think a lot of you have been spending some time with me and my brothers. Who's come to visit us at the Seiba Tops? Raise your hands."

For fifteen minutes, Jesse set the scene, encouraged questions, and showed just what made him an exceptional officer and representative of the GAR. He was gregarious and funny but with a seriousness that made it impossible to disregard him.

When he'd finished, he motioned Zinger to the front.

Zinger, likewise, knew how to bring a story alive.

Thirty minutes into the event, Sempe was wondering if he'd ever get his turn. And if he did, what would he say? He was not as outgoing as the others. He wasn't much of a story-teller. He was just a rank-and-file soldier who could have no grand tales to compare with the others.

But as he sat and wondered, he thought he discerned a vibration.

Yes, definitely some kind of tremble.

Was the earth quaking? Were the volcanic thermals acting up?

No. No, this was a vibration of the air. A—a familiar vibration.

He turned abruptly to Sixer. "Do you feel that? It's a ship!"

Sixer focused his hearing. The realization hit him as the same time as Sempe, but the latter beat him to the announcement.

"It's the Separatists again! They're back!" he hissed in Sixer's ear.

Sixer bolted to his feet and dropped to one knee beside Jesse.

"We've got company," he whispered. "And from the sound of it—not friendly."

Now, Jesse could hear the sound of the engines and feel the vibration. "Fek and all . . . " He rose to his feet. "Everyone, I'm sorry, we have to end this now." He looked to the side where Sisters So'Nodor and Nareen were approaching, looking confused.

"What is going on, Lieutenant?" So'Nodor asked. "What's that sound?"

"That's the Separatists coming back," Jesse replied. "We have to get back into the caverns. If they find us, there's going to be trouble. And we can't exactly blend in, wearing our armor."

"Follow me," So'Nodor insisted, then to Nareen. "The assembly is over. Get the students back to their classrooms." She led the clones to one of the doors, but when she pushed on it, it would not open.

"This—this is locked," she said anxiously. "Here, over here. Try this one."

But that door, too, was locked.

In short order, they discovered that they were all locked.

From the outside.

No one, not clone nor teacher nor student, could get out.