Dear Reader, there's no action in this chapter. This is all explanation, exposition, and philosophy. If it's boring, sorry about that, but there's a lot to wrap up before the boys leave Bertegad! I have a little "bow" to something from LLTC's Whatever Happened to Captain Rex saga. There is a chapter (and a line) titled, "Smells Too Good to be Cody", which I thought was funny and brilliant, so I pay homage to LLTC's wit with a short little snippet in this chapter. And lastly, yes, John Denver! If you think he's too hokey for Star Wars, then phew! I love his music, his lyrics, and I think he was a talent too soon taken from us. He opens this chapter with one of my favorite songs of his. Peace, CS
Chapter 36 The Eagle and the Afterward
"I am the eagle. I live in high country, in rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky.
I am the hawk, and there's blood on my feathers, but time is still turning, they soon will be dry.
All those who see me and all who believe in me carry the freedom I feel when I fly.
Come dance on the westwind and touch all the mountaintops,
Sail o'er the canyons and up to the stars.
And reach for the heavens and hope for the future,
And all that we can be, not what we are."
The Eagle and the Hawk
John Denver
Double Barrel was not sure how to react or what to say to the Doma's announcement, so he fell back on simple honesty. "Huh. I guess that's . . . that's pretty interesting. I have no idea what that means." He glanced uncomfortably back over his shoulder at the bird. "How did he . . . get lose?"
Maree looked a bit ill at ease, herself. "I released him." A pause. "And many others. You were probably caught in the destruction while this was going on and didn't notice the souls. It looks like not all of them went back into Finirest."
She held out her arm towards the eagle, and it soared down, prompting Rex and the others to draw back a bit as it landed beside the Doma. Double Barrel, in particular, shied away, eyeing the creature warily.
"Thing's taller than a SBD," he grumbled, using the acronym for super battle droid. "What planet has an eagle that size?"
Maree could not help but smile at his question. "This one." She stroked the strong neck and formidable yellow beak, and the touch of her hand was met with the same glowing light that had been witnessed during the Finirest and when she had touched her hand to the floor in Rex's presence. "The high mountains far away to the north . . . the Obental. They have eagles this large. That's where he's from. They have them in other places, too. But he is from the Obental."
"You know that?" Ajax asked.
"I know all my souls," Maree replied. "Not in the way people know each other, but . . . in a sort of . . . in the sense that they're part of the body, part of the whole of creation. Me'Ente Loge, he knows them each individually, but that sort of knowledge is reserved for the Creator and his Messengers."
Au-Celso spoke up, and only now did Maree notice that the brother had been standing off to the side the whole time.
"This man should have died when the wall collapsed," he said with gravity, nodding towards Double Barrel. But there was something else in his voice as well—a subtle intimation that the Doma and both of the sisters tending to DB picked up on.
Maree glanced at the two sisters, who gave almost imperceptible nods of affirmation.
Standing beside the Doma, Rex noticed these cues, but he had no idea what was being conveyed.
Celso went on with carefully calculated words. "I saw it with my own eyes. He was being crushed."
Maree looked to the sisters with a question in her eyes.
"It is as Au-Celso says," one of them replied. "The remnants of his injuries remain." She gingerly drew aside the ripped and soiled tunic to reveal bruises that covered almost the entirety of DB's chest and abdomen. Combined with the injuries visible on his face and neck, they brought into short relief just how miraculous his survival was.
Maree hesitated for a moment, then she took a step closer. "Let me just . . . see how you're doing," she said, stretching forth her hand.
The moment her palm came flush with DB's forehead, a white light began to gleam at the point of contact. The eagle's voice rose in a piercing call and the massive wings sent gusts through the air that actually rocked the others on their feet.
"Woah, woah!" DB exclaimed, drawing back with wide eyes. "What's happening? What are you doing?"
The Doma lowered her hand.
Rex could tell she was surprised and perhaps a bit disturbed by what had happened. She maintained an easy, unworried expression; but there was something beneath that exterior that spoke of . . . perhaps another infraction of the rules governing her guardianship? Rex waited to see how she would answer DB's question.
"I was checking to see if what Au-Celso and the sisters suspected is true," she replied. Then, not waiting for the next inquiry, she went on. "And their suspicions are correct. These bruises indicate that you had injuries that should have killed you." A heavy pause, as she prepared to say what came next. "But when the eagle touched you, he imparted some small . . . wisp of his soul. And that healed you."
Double Barrel stared at her like a moonstruck field mouse. He could not find his voice or even formulate the words to ask a coherent question.
Rex, on the other hand, was not so speechless. "What do you mean? How can that bird give away part of his soul?"
"Do you remember when we were in the Taber and I took energy from the souls? I touched your side, and you felt that energy."
Rex nodded. "Yes, I remember."
"I explained to you that the soul is eternal, and as such, its energy is eternal. It can give of itself without end and never be diminished," the Doma explained. "The body is temporal. It will come to an end, but the soul that resides in the body exists both within and without time. The only difference is that soul within time, the soul within the body, is not perfected. It is subject to all the pains and ills, tempted by all the carnal and corporal desires of the physical body. Only after the death of the body does the soul usually find perfection." She gestured towards the ruins of the Taber around her. "These souls are perfected and only waiting for the gates of eternity to open. They are incredibly powerful. And incredibly generous."
"So, you're saying that this creature, this animal, made a conscious decision to save him and even to heal him?" Rex asked incredulously. "Animals don't have that kind of . . . mental capacity."
"So you say," Maree chided. "But you'd be wrong." She added, "These souls may not know they are imparting energy, but they know when they are doing something that is within their nature." A wry grin twinkled in her eye. "Or their super nature, as the case may be. This eagle, by the simple act of touching DB, gave him a part of his own soul."
"Hold on, hold on, hold on," DB interjected. "My brain is going to explode. Good grief, I'm not going to turn into a bird, am I?"
Maree grinned sweetly at him. "No. But it does mean that he's part of you now. He'll always be with you."
"What? Wait! I can't have this bird following me around! He's huge and I can't—it's—it's preposterous!"
"I didn't mean physically," Maree explained. "No, he'll stay here until the next Finirest." A pause. "What I meant was that the elements of his nature will now be part of you, to a greater or lesser degree, for the rest of your life."
"I still have no idea what that means," DB moaned. "I'm pretty happy with my own nature as it is."
"As well you should be," Maree nodded. "But there's nothing wrong with adding to your courage and patience, having a keen sense of timing." She looked at him pointedly. "And valuing freedom." Then, drawing back and taking a somewhat less serious tone, "These are parts of the eagle's nature. And whatever part of your own nature already contained these elements, now those parts are greater."
Seeing that Double Barrel was still bewildered—and likely in desperate need of rest—Maree turned to the two sisters. "Make sure he's well-looked after."
"Yes, Doma."
With that, she turned to Rex and they continued their survey of the damage.
The engineers were already on hand and proceeding with their work.
"What will happen to that bird now?" Rex asked. "You said he'll stay here until the next Finirest, but is he . . . is he in any kind of danger? Or is he himself a danger?"
"Animal souls are unlikely to be corrupted," she replied. "But there is always the possibility. The period between when a soul dies and when it undergoes Finirest is the most dangerous time. The forces of darkness seek out such souls and try to turn them to evil. Any soul that . . . escapes Finirest, such as the eagle, is vulnerable to the same danger."
"And Finirest is only once per your planetary year," Rex half-stated, half-questioned. "Can't you do it more often?"
"I'm not the one who decides such things," Maree replied. "That is Me'Ente Loge's realm." She drew in a deep breath. "It will not be difficult to protect one eagle. What concerns me is that there might be more that did not make it back into Finirest."
Rex regarded her without speaking. He knew there had to be many things she was not telling him, and he was convinced that she was very much avoiding any mention of the full extent and nature of her own power with regard to these souls. When the Monastica had been threatened, she had been on the verge of calling forth the legions of animal spirits; and clearly, she must have intended them to do battle. But as animal souls, did waging war form any part of their makeup? Waging war was not akin to hunting prey or even to the instinct of a single animal defending its territory. If these souls had fought, it would have been at the direction, at the instigation of the Doma. And if they could comprehend the order to fight, might they not also be open to other suggestions, other commands?
It seemed to Rex—if he could bring himself to believe it—that part of being a perfected animal soul was an increase in . . . reason, self-perception? A more deliberate thought process?
None of which he associated with animals – or their souls.
It was confusing and, quite frankly, too great a mystery for him to pursue, for it called into question all manner of ethical and moral standards. And while Rex did not shy away from proclaiming what he considered right versus wrong, good versus evil, he confined his judgments to the here and now. The eternal, ephemeral world of which the Doma spoke played no role in the decsions he made or the positions he took.
Still, there was one thing that was weighing on his mind.
"I want to ask you something," he said by way of preamble.
"I will try to answer," Maree replied.
"You think Double Barrel died, don't you? He died, and that eagle restored him to life?" Rex asked.
Maree could not pretend to be surprised. She had already seen that Rex was perceptive and discerning, so it stood reason that he had been able to read even the subtle signs during her examination of Double Barrel. "I can't be sure of that."
"But it's what you suspect."
"Judging from the severity of what remained of his injuries, I think it's very possible," she said.
"These creatures can restore life—"
"They're not creatures, Rex. They're souls," Maree said in an uncharacteristically curt tone. "And they can't bring the dead back to life. Only the Creator can do that. What they can do is use the energy of their own existence to repair a damaged body. But they can't reanimate a pile of bones. They can't . . . reassemble a body blown to pieces. They can heal injuries . . . within reason."
Rex regarded her with probing eyes. "You and your people . . . is this what you use to heal people? Is this where all the skill comes from? From these souls?"
"Absolutely not," Maree told him emphatically. "It is forbidden to take the souls' energy, even when they offer it." A pause. "But we do observe them. We see how the flow of energy works in a perfected soul, and we have worked for millennia—far before my time—to adapt that process to try and harness the power of unperfected souls – our own unperfected souls. Along the way, we have developed many wonderful technologies, but the soul is beyond technology. The greatest power we have ever been able to achieve . . . is prayer. Prayer is the only meaningful way we have found to employ the power of an unperfected soul in the process of healing." She glanced back across the Taber to where DB was now being helped outside, on his way to the healing rooms. "It may seem as if using the souls to heal the injured would be the humane and decent thing to do. But just because something exists and is there for the taking doesn't mean one should take it. The Creator did not fashion bodies to last forever. He created the soul to be eternal, and when a creature is too attached to the body the Creator has provided, it becomes a means of separation. The soul is put into the body for a certain amount of time to accomplish certain things that are necessary in the course of history. But its ultimate purpose, its ultimate place of rest is with the One who created it."
Rex was both amazed and perplexed at her explanation. "I had no idea such beliefs existed."
"Really? I would have thought that, in your journeys, you would have discovered many thousands of belief systems," Maree replied.
"My journeys usually entail going to a place, fighting a battle, and leaving," Rex replied. "There's little time to get to know the history and background of the people, much less their religious beliefs. I always try to be as knowledgeable of a situation as I can, but my focus is usually on terrain, tactics, and weaponry."
"Of course, it is," Maree noted. "By necessity. It's your job, and a lot of lives depend on you."
Rex was silent for a moment. "Sort of in the same way these souls depend on you. You can't stray. You can't make mistakes. You have to be vigilant all the time."
"Yes," she said with a strange, almost nostalgic smile. "And I knew that when I accepted the position of Doma."
"I guess I knew that, too, when I went after the position in the 501st," Rex conceded.
"We're very much alike, Rex," Maree pointed out. "And very different."
Echoing her earlier words, Rex answered, "And I knew that when I decided to take the risk of getting close to you." He swallowed. "But it looks like our time is . . . winding down."
"We knew it would."
"Yes . . . we did."
"Obi-wan Kenobi. A Jedi has finally stepped foot within these hallowed walls."
"Practo Raphaeli? No, it can't be!"
"It's Fels Au-Raphe now, old friend."
Obi-wan clasped the brother's hand then drew in for a quick slap on the back. "I can hardly believe it," he said. "I often wondered what had become of you after you left the Order, but I would never have guess you'd turn into a holy man! And way out here on such a remote world. How did you end up here?"
"Long story for another time," Au-Raphe replied. "By the Force, it's good to see you."
"I only wish it were under more positive circumstances," Obi-wan said.
"As do I," Au-Raphe agreed. "But these are resilient people. They'll come through this." A pause. "How long will you be here?"
"A week or so, it would seem," came the response. "We're here until the recovery team arrives."
"Wonderful! Then I think we'll have plenty of time to catch up on old times," Au-Raphe grinned.
"I'm looking forward to it," Obi-wan stated with warmth. And it was the truth.
The last thing he had expected to find in the aftermath of the battle was a friend from long ago.
The next three days passed in a blur.
At least, that was how it felt to Rex.
He hadn't slept a wink – hadn't even tried. He found himself going between the Taber, the assembly hall, and the healing rooms. He'd eaten on site and on the move, barely taking the time to even notice what he was putting in his mouth. He'd not showered, changed clothes, or shaved.
He'd barely had a moment with Maree since that first return to the Taber, though not fully by choice. It was simply that she had her responsibilities and he had his. He had spent only nominal time in General Skywalker's presence. Although he'd procured a wrist communicator, he'd done most of the interactions with his troops face-to-face, and he had tried very hard to stay away from his general, knowing that a command to stand down, take some rest, and possibly return to the Resolute might be on the list of Skywalker's orders.
Rex did not want to do any of those things. If he stopped running like a jack-rabbit from place to place, helping the engineers, the brothers and sisters, leading the men of his battalion, he would have too much time to think. And he knew precisely where those thoughts would lead him.
To the encroaching departure.
That was something he would deal with when the time came.
In the interim, he had recovery operations. Not to mention, two injured lieutenants and his best sniper. Of the three, Sixer's blaster shot to the chest had needed the most work, resulting in an extended stay in the healing rooms. Jesse and Double Barrel had been kept for two days of treatment and observation, then released.
For his own part, Rex was simply moving through the hours without any awareness of time. He had long since passed the phase of operating on adrenaline alone. He was now slogging from one event to the next on nothing more than will power and the incredible reserve of strength innate to each clone. In a part of his mind that he refused to acknowledge, he was hoping to find but not really looking for a logical time and place to stop.
Standing in the botanical garden between the healing rooms and the Taber – neither the time nor the place - he had paused for only a moment, and it occurred to him that he hesitation was in order to try and remember what he was supposed to be doing.
"When was the last time you slept?"
Turning bodily, he saw Cody approaching.
"I don't know," Rex replied, and it was only partly untrue.
As the commander drew near, he took off his helmet and balanced it against his hip. "Well, I know you haven't slept at least since I got back."
"Yeah, how did you get back?" Rex asked, realizing that he'd not spoken to Cody at any length since his return.
"I can tell you that whole story some other time," Cody replied. "Right now, I think you really need to get some sleep, Rex. You're dead on your feet. Come on, the rest of the men have caught some shuteye. A few hours won't kill you."
"I'm fine," Rex protested. "I can manage."
"Manage what? Do you plan to stay awake until we leave?" Cody grinned.
"No, just until the rescue phase is over."
"Rex, they've already finished up that part at the assembly hall," the commander informed him. "They're just doing cleanup now. They'll be done at the Taber in probably the next day, and then it'll be cleanup there, too. The 40th doesn't need our help. They've got plenty of manpower—"
"Where are the men we crash-landed with?" Rex asked. "Have they all returned to the Resolute?"
Cody eyed him with a patience born of wisdom. "No, they're all still here. But they've been getting some rest. I don't think you even know where you are."
"I know exactly where I am, Commander," Rex replied. "I'm just not sure what I was doing."
"Come on," Cody said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go to the Seiba Tops. You can catch an hour or two." He said this, feeling confident that the moment Rex went down, he'd stay down for at least half the day. "Maybe a shower and a change of clothes. You're rank, Captain. Rank as a piece of rankweed," the commander poked.
Cody had never been good at pulling off a joke. He had no timing, no sense of irony. But still he tried. Because where Rex was part of the equation, Cody knew the importance of the attempt. Straightforward bullying had never moved Rex – not even a millimeter. But cajoling, teasing, poking and prodding – these were the things that worked best against the captain.
They were the tools Cody used in order to get what he wanted without having to resort to pulling rank and giving Rex a direct order.
Rex regarded him drolly. "You're one to talk, Commander."
"Eh, you may be right about that," Cody conceded, still he knew he had won the battle. "But I think you can afford to take a break, Rex."
Rex nodded grudgingly. "Yeah, you're right."
They began walking towards the Seiba Tops.
"So, tell me what happened after you left here?" Rex asked, his voice as weary as his gait.
"We made good time," Cody answered. "We passed a lot of caravans heading into the desert to attend some big festival—"
"Me'Ente Loge," Rex filled in.
"Something like that. We had just started across the Swaig Flats when a Perfidio spotted us. It was Admiral Vrehnke. They landed and tried to capture us, but Au-Trava roused one of the Serpico's - it was like a snake the size of a . . . it was as tall as a Grasshopper. It took out their ship, and we ran like hell. I thought they'd been destroyed, but clearly, I was wrong. I understand now they had been here first and then found us."
"A couple days after you left, they showed up."
"It's a good thing they didn't find you then."
Rex's face was like stone. "Yeah, a good thing."
Cody caught the odd tone in his voice, but he continued with his tale. "We made it to Heembab, and Au-Trava took us directly to one of the interstellar relay stations. We sent out a message and got a response back within hours. Two days later, the Resolute arrived and sent ships for us. We warned them that there was probably a Dreadnaught in the area; and when we told them what had happened, they scanned for the Monastica and found the Separatists were already there. They sent down the whole 501st and two squadrons from the 212th. You know the rest from there."
"I'm glad you made it," Rex offered. "I saw Moog. What about Three Point?"
"He's fine," Cody replied. "Already back to flying transport between here and the ship."
"Wow, they didn't give him any downtime," Rex noted.
"He took a day."
They continued walking.
"They all made it, Rex," Cody said somberly. "Every one of the 22 men on that shuttle survived."
Rex felt something strange catch in his throat. "Yeah. We got lucky—more than once."
"Maybe," Cody replied. "Or maybe it was something more than that."
Rex turned a dubious eye. "Like what?"
Cody's answer was not as complex as Rex had been expected, and the concept was simple.
"Maybe it's that we made the right decisions."
Rex grimaced.
Maybe one of them had made the right choices.
The other would spend the rest of his life trying to atone for the wrong choices he had made.