Dear Reader, a short chapter. I was going to make it longer by combining it with what comes next, but I sort of liked ending it where I did. Leaves some good stuff for the next chapter! Peace, CS

Chapter 38 Orders

"The military lead turbulent lives. But they are people, like everyone else."

General William Westmoreland

Rex was surprised at how restrictive his armor felt.

He reminded himself that he shouldn't be surprised at all, not after three weeks of wearing the desert-weight cottony lightness of the tunic. At first, the armor felt heavy and cumbersome, but he knew that would pass as he got used to wearing it again. And truth be told, he took a certain amount of comfort from being ensconced in the familiar trappings of his profession. It made him feel invincible, even though he knew he wasn't.

"You look like a soldier again," Cody remarked as they stood together beside the gunship that would take them back to the Resolute.

"So do you," Rex said tongue-in-cheek. "When you first showed up, I thought you might have been demoted to Shinie."

Cody chuckled. When he had set off across the desert nearly four weeks ago, he'd worn the travel garb of the Austeniens and left his armor at the Monastica. Upon being picked up in Heembab, he'd donned one of the spare suits of armor always on-hand as part of each gunship, shuttle and escape pod emergency supply kit. It wasn't until the battle had ended that he'd retrieved his armor and was now recognizable by its telltale markings.

"Well, I'll tell you, there's a big difference between wearing your own kit and borrowing one of the spares," he stated. "A guy gets used to his own glove, you know?"

"Yeah, it's like reconnecting with an old friend," Rex grinned. "And Force knows it's cleaner than it's ever been. They even managed to repair the tears in the glove. Our own shops don't do that."

"That's because it's easier for them to just issue a new body glove," Cody replied. "Down here, they probably reuse things until they disintegrate." An arch smile. "You know, for a people who eschew certain technologies, they're pretty technologically advanced. Sort of a dichotomy, wouldn't you say?"

"I think there are a lot of dichotomies here," Rex agreed.

Cody discerned something in the tone of his voice that seemed to be begging the question, and so he took the bait.

"Like what?"

"Peace-loving religious orders that pack enough firepower to do some serious damage," Rex replied. "Strict religious codes, yet their leaders—their leaders give them the freedom to make their own decisions. All that amazing medical technology, but they still trust in prayer more than anything else." A long, thoughtful pause. "While you were gone, we saw one of their holy figures with our own eyes, Cody. We saw the power he had and the power he gave to the Doma."

Cody could tell Rex was leading up to something. He waited patiently, knowing his friend would get there eventually.

"She was going to use that power to defeat Admiral Vrehnke and his forces," Rex revealed. "Even though she knew it was forbidden, she was going to use that power." He seemed troubled, almost pained, by the memory.

"What stopped her?"

"Au-Mikiel . . . and me," Rex replied.

"Why does that bother you so much?"

Rex considered his words before answering. "For one person to be given that much power . . . a person with flaws just like the rest of us . . . "

"I know I was only here for a few days, but she didn't seem to be at all like the rest of us," Cody pointed out.

Rex was silent.

Ah, there it was. The commander knew the captain well enough to know when his words had hit on a nerve. He also knew that going fishing for answers was not an option with Rex. Rex would reveal whatever was on his mind as he so desired and in his own time.

And for now, all he was willing to offer was, "You missed a lot after you left, Commander."

"I'm sure I'll hear all about it," Cody replied. "Here come the generals."

"Doma Maree? I'm Commander Tano, General Skywalker's padawan."

Maree hid her surprise well, for she could hardly believe that the scantily-clad teenager she was looking at was a Jedi learner, much less a commander in the Grand Army.

"Commander Tano, I am pleased to meet you," she offered politely.

"Please call me Ahsoka," came the reply. "General Skywalker went back to the Resolute for a briefing, and he asked me to check and see if there was anything you needed while he was gone."

"That was thoughtful of him," Maree said with a smile. "No, there is nothing I need. He told me about the meeting. I just hope he can make it back in time for the funeral ceremony."

"I'm so sorry about all of this," Ahsoka lamented. "It was never the Republic's intention to draw your people into this war."

Maree thought the words seemed odd coming from such a youngster—or youngling, as the Jedi preferred; but she could tell the sentiment was genuine. The padawan's heart was in the right place.

"You sound like Captain Rex," she replied. "It wasn't the clones' choice to crash-land here. But once they did, it was our calling to care for them and protect them as best we could."

Even the mere mention of Rex's name set Ahsoka's heart fluttering. "Rex was probably afraid of drawing you into the war, as well."

Such a simplistic statement, but Maree could tell the girl was trying to be both personable and serious. She wondered how the pressures of being a commander sat on her shoulders. It must have been difficult to take up as a padawan during wartime, being thrust straight into the chain-of-command with men who, while chronologically younger, were in appearance and maturity, much older.

"I think you are precisely correct," Maree agreed. "He certainly did not want to see us suffer."

"Well . . . I want to thank you personally for keeping them safe," Ahsoka said. "We were worried, not knowing what had happened to them." A pause. "But I don't think my master ever doubted Rex's ability to pull them through."

Maree nodded and grinned. "They seem to be the perfect match for each other."

Ahsoka chuckled. "You're right about that. They're both pretty unorthodox. Sometimes, I think they try to outdo each other when it comes to who can come up with the craziest plan. My master usually wins."

"Rex speaks very highly of him," Maree noted. "And I could see, just from the brief time I was with General Skywalker, the feeling is mutual."

Hearing Rex spoken of in such glowing terms warmed Ahsoka's heart. She was discovering that she enjoyed talking about him. The truth was that she'd not really had anyone with whom she could discuss her feelings. Certainly, she could not tell her master. Obi-wan was out of the question. It would be unseemly to discuss it with any of the clone troopers. Her fellow padawan, Barriss Offee, though a friend, was too perfect for Ahsoka to reveal her own shortcomings to. Even Master Plo Koon, almost a father figure to Ahsoka, might not understand how a teenaged padawan could be in love with a clone captain—a subordinate, no less.

And so, even a brief encounter like this one with a stranger whom Ahsoka would never see again after two or three days' time, was an opportunity she snatched up and relished.

"Rex is the greatest clone officer in the entire GAR," Ahsoka enthused. "Though I'm sure others would disagree. Everyone always thinks their soldiers are the best. But Rex really is. He wouldn't be in the 501st if he wasn't."

"I see you share General Skywalker's high opinion of him."

"He's good to work with."

The casualness of this statement, following upon the effusive praise of a moment ago, triggered an alertness in Maree's awareness. It was too nonchalant by far, too easy. Going from "the greatest clone officer in the entire GAR" to "good to work with . . ."

It was clearly an attempt to downplay.

And Maree had an inkling of just what the padawan was trying to soft-pedal.

"A little hard-headed," the Doma partially suggested, and Ahsoka laughed.

"A little? It can be like dealing with a Jemway mule."

"Have you worked with him for very long?" Maree asked, sensing that Ahsoka wanted to talk about her captain, needed to talk about him.

"Since the battle of Christosphsis," Ahsoka replied. "So . . . almost a year." A pause. "It's taken him—and the rest of the men—a long time to get used to me."

"You can understand why, though, can't you?"

"At first, I couldn't. I didn't want them to treat me like a child, and I couldn't understand why they saw me as a youngling," she replied. "And I guess I was . . . I was so anxious to prove myself that I was pretty . . . obnoxious sometimes. And reckless. I'm not like that anymore. I've learned a lot about how to be a leader from my master . . . and Rex. I still make mistakes . . . probably too many of them. But I'd do anything for my men."

"That's very admirable of you," Maree nodded. "They're quite amazing . . . the clones. I would be lying if I said we did not enjoy their company very much these past weeks." She sighed at a realization. "Only one man was opposed to their presence. He betrayed them to the Separatists. He betrayed all of us."

"Is that . . . Fels Au-Gehen?"

"Yes," Maree nodded.

"What will you do with him?"

"That decision belongs to Au-Mikiel and the Austenien Circle of Servants. It is only my part to either approve or disapprove of their decision."

"Was Au-Gehen aligned with the Separatists?"

"No," Maree replied.

"Then why did he turn our men over?"

"He thought they were a threat to our way of life," the Doma explained. "He felt they were distracting our children, making the boys want to be soldiers and . . . well, he was afraid they were a temptation against our young ladies' virtue."

"Their virtue?" Ahsoka sounded almost amused.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the clones are quite charming. Our girls were very taken with them."

Ahsoka shook her head. "I can't even picture it," she said with subdued laughter. "The clones are nothing but business. The only thing ever on their mind is war. Or training for war. Or playing games that sharpen their skills for war."

"I suppose it all depends on their environment," Maree said. "They've been truly . . . wonderful since they've been here. Spending time with our children, dancing—"

"Dancing?!" Ahsoka could not believe her ears.

Maree laughed. "Yes, dancing. And quite good at it, if I must say."

Ahsoka held up her hand. "No, I can't believe that."

"You will get to see it yourself, if you come to the funeral ceremony."

"You—there's dancing at a funeral?"

"Not at the funeral itself, but at the celebration following," Maree explained.

"Celebration?"

"Yes, the ceremony is in two parts. The funeral itself is very somber, but the celebration of life and the anticipation of Finirest is . . . a very joyful occasion," Maree replied. "It is our tradition. The sadness will linger for a long time, but not to the exclusion of joy."

"That's . . . a great way to look at things," Ahsoka said in wonderment. "I don't know if I could do that."

"It's not easy," Maree admitted. "But it's what the souls of the departed deserve, to be feted and celebrated, not just mourned." She returned to the original topic. "So, if you come this evening, and the clones come—they were all invited—you will get to see first-hand that I'm telling the truth."

"Well, I hope I can be there," Ahsoka stated, then testing the waters, she added, "I'm sure Captain Rex didn't dance, though."

"He did."

"Nooo," Ahsoka grinned. "Impossible. He's so serious."

"He is very serious, yes," Maree agreed. "But he did dance, and he was very skilled."

"I'll have to see it to believe it."

"I thought the same thing when I first asked him," Maree added. "In fact, he declined at first. His men had to sort of . . . shame him into it." She smiled at the memory. "They adore him. I told him that, and he was horrified with my choice of words."

"Yep, that sounds like Rex," Ahsoka said knowingly.

After several seconds during which neither of them spoke, Ahsoka concluded with, "Well, if you're sure you don't need anything, I'll go finish making my rounds."

"I thank you for your concern," Maree stated. "I have to go start preparing for the funeral ceremony. I hope you will be able to attend."

"It would be my honor," Ahsoka replied. "I'll have to clear it with General Skywalker first, make sure he doesn't have other duties for me. But I hope to be there."

"Then I look forward to seeing you and talking with you again."

"As do I, Doma."

"Sector Headquarters just finished decrypting this intercepted message," Admiral Yularen announced. "Take a look at it before the briefing starts. I'll be back in a few minutes. I have a private communication coming through in my office."

The commo officer tapped the holo-projector console. The image that appeared was of one of top Separatist generals – a being half-man and half-machine. General Grievous, Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies.

Grievous had not always been a cyborg. In fact, at one time, he had been a great warrior of the planet Kalee, fully flesh and blood. But in his thirst for greater fighting prowess, he had long ago chosen to enhance his abilities with cybernetic implants. He had come to the attention of Count Dooku well before the war had ever started as a suitable candidate to lead a droid army, given his own particular physical combinations.

He was well-known to Republic military leadership and certainly to the small group now viewing the hologram, although Anakin himself had never had any dealings with him directly. Obi-wan, Cody, and Rex, on the other hand, had come face-to-face with him more than once, and they had all come away with the same impression: Grievous had nothing in his moral code that surpassed his own pursuit of glory. He would abandon his own troops, if he felt threatened. He ran from a fight at the first sign that he might be defeated. He would kill civilians—women, children—even as they begged for their lives.

He kept trophies of the Jedi he had defeated – a morbid collection of lightsabers. And to Grievous, clones were something less human than he himself was. They may be fully organic, but they were nothing more than beasts of burden, forced soldiers, happily kept slaves. They were to be despised almost as much as the Jedi.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and grating. "Now that the outpost on the Rishi Moon has been destroyed, we have a clear path into that sector," he said.

The image then switched to that of Count Dooku's apprentice, the Dathomirian Night Sister, Asajj Ventress. And she was every bit as fearsome as Grievous, although for different reasons.

Ventress was bizarre in appearance. Tall, gangly – almost awkward. Her skin was greyish and flawless. Her head was completely bald, and she wore a tattooed design both on the back of her head and also running down from the corners of her mouth, giving the impression of a perpertual scowl. Her history was clouded, but none of her adversaries needed to know much of her past in order to recognize that she was very powerful with the Force and very deadly.

Yet, she was not devoid of feeling, like Grievous. She almost seemed to be searching for the final conclusion to some vindictive instinct. What injury resided in her past that she was still seeking vengeance?

"The clone planet of Kamino will be a dangerous target," she said. "It's already been almost two months since the Rishi station was taken out. We've lost the element of surprise."

"I have some ideas for delivering a surprise," Grievous replied dismissively. "Just make sure you hold up your half of the mission. We must stop the production of new clones if we are to win this war."

The hologram fragmented and disappeared.

Anakin was the first to speak, and his voice was grave. "Kamino."

"They're going to attack our home planet," Rex stated, clearly distressed but steady as always.

"The Separatists are taking quite the chance even considering this," Obi-wan opined in his calm, matter-of-fact manner. But they all knew he was right. The clone facilities of Kamino were among the most heavily protected targets in the Republic. The clones had become the foremost necessity for winning the war.

With characteristic bluster, Rex spoke up. "With all due respect, General, if someone comes to our home, they'd better be carrying a big blaster."

It was not a surprising thing to hear coming from Rex, and it showed Anakin that his captain was already regaining his footing as first-in-command, moving from the world of indulgence and a woman's comfort, back to the world of war and its waging.

"I concur with Captain Rex, Sir." This, from Cody. "This is personal for us clones."

"We'll make sure Kamino is secure," Anakin assured them.

"Let's find out what they have to say at the briefing," Obi-wan cautioned. "We don't want to get ahead of ourselves. They might not even send us."

"Oh, they'll send us," Anakin said. "If I have anything to say about it, they'll send us." He glanced at Rex and inclined his head.

Rex acknowledged with a nod.

Now, they just had to wait for the briefing to commence.

"We're diverting Battle Groups V7 and V8 from SECAR 2. We've got four brigade combat teams coming from SECAR 9. Two special ops groups are already on Kamino for cyclical training, and then there's the permanent ARC cadre. SECAR 19 Fleet is coming in to set up a blockade."

The general giving the briefing was the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, Lieutenant General Matte Whichum – humanoid from a Coruscant family with a long history of military service. Flanked by Jedi Generals Mace WIndu and Yoda on one side and Space Ops Admiral Joku Laku on the other, he was a man who wasted no words.

"From what other intelligence we've been able to gather, it looks as if we will still need at least two more brigade-size elements if we hope to defeat the Separatists at Kamino. They're amassing forces at the edge of the Kovar system, but the ships appear to be mostly engineering and repair frigates. We're still not fully sure what they're up to, what the thrust of their attack will be," Whichum went on. "But we want overwhelming numbers and firepower on our side. I don't need to tell any of you of the importance of these cloning factories."

Beside Rex, Cody could sense when his brother wanted to look at him, make eye contact, convey some message or other. Even though Rex had not moved, had not diverted his own gaze, it was almost as if some telepathic link joined the two men, and Cody knew intrinsically that Rex had found something off-putting in what the general had just said.

And the commander figured he knew what is was.

Cloning factories.

It seemed to bother some clones – Rex among them – to hear his birth place referred to as a factory. It rankled him even more to hear his birth referred to as a manufacture. Yes, he had been created without the traditional mother and father, conceived in a test tube, incubated and nourished in an artificial womb made of glass. He'd been raised by mostly mechanical hands, machines void of emotion, droids programmed only to perform the functions necessary to keep a newborn baby healthy and functioning. Even as he'd gotten older, self-aware as a small child, everything on Kamino had been designed to produce the cool, level-headed, non-questioning soldier.

But, of course, such attempts at full control of the clone population could not fully escape the tweaks to the environment wrought by the very clones for whom the strict regimen existed. Bubbles of personality burst up without warning, often enticing others to follow suit. The calm equanimity so drilled into them during training was not immune to the occasional flurry of emotion: the angry rant, the hilarious breakdown, the fearful unknown of what the battlefield would really be like.

The precision of a factory might well be present in the cloning facilities—the attempt to reduce the reject rate certainly was—but there was also humanity, varying degrees of deviation from the template, and something the Kaminoans had never expected: the deepening of the bond between soldiers into the bond between brothers.

Brothers.

And brothers weren't the product of factories. Brothers were the product of a connection in the heart, in the mind. A closeness that no combination or manipulation of DNA could guarantee.

Cody shifted slightly to let Rex know he could sense what he was feeling, knowing full well that this slight acknowledgment would be enough to simmer Rex's ruffled feathers – for the time-being, at least.

General Windu picked up where Whichum had left off.

"Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, we are going to have to recall your Battle Group to take part in Kamino's defenses. We know you're providing protection on Bertegad pending the arrival of the recovery team. They should be arriving with the next two planetary rotations." A pause. "We can't wait that long. We need all our forces in place as soon as possible. I want you underway within eight hours. Bertegad should be safe for the next few days. There are no reports of any enemy ships in the area. Admiral Yularen, can you have the fleet ready to go on such short notice? I understand you have a lot of engineering troops on the ground."

"We can move out the main body," Admiral Yularen replied. "I will leave one battalion of the 40th here to continue with recovery. We'll pull back the other battalion and be underway. I don't think it will matter much if we are minus one engineering battalion."

"Agreed," Whichum nodded. "We'll be transmitting the coordinates for the assembly point as soon as we're done with this briefing. Are there any questions? No? Very well. Await the operations order. And remember . . . this is a must-win battle. Good day, gentlemen."

So, a little bit with Ahsoka there. More to come in the next chapter. Some intrigue, let's say. Also, no, I haven't forgotten that So'Nodor was one of the betrayers, too. That's coming as well! Lastly, I like Cody's ruminations about Rex, how he knows what Rex is thinking without even having to look at him, and he conveys his own acknowledgment without words. I really love to examine the relationship between these two, and I hope my version of their friendship will do my head canon justice!