Dear Reader, Thank you very much to my reviewers: Ms CT-782 (who always seems to know what's coming next!), the Unnamed Guest, Sued13, LLTC, Random Reader, and Freedom Phantom. It truly means a lot to me to read your comments and try to address some of the questions. One of the questions asked by LLTC was if this ARC training story takes place before or after the Malevolence arc. It takes place before. As wars go, the Clone War is very short. Three years. That means a lot of things have to be jammed up front. We see Rex immediately wearing the pauldron and kama, which means he became an ARC fairly early on. I have him attending ARC training after about 4 months of active duty (4 months since the start of the war). That way he still will have 2 years and 8 months of adventures with Anakin! Now, as to this current chapter, no action whatsoever, but what I think is a very nice scene with 7567 and 3636 (Rex and Wolffe, respectively). Also, good job to the Unnamed Guest for noticing some of 3636's qualities are very wolf-like! That was what I was going for! Again, thank you for the reviews. Enjoy. Peace, CS
Chapter 61 Filling in the Edges
"Many words are spoken when there's nothing to say.
They fall upon the ears of those who don't know the way
to read between the lines by following the signs
that can lead to you."
The Eagle Will Rise Again
Alan Parsons
Voices.
At first, they sounded far away, but as his awareness returned, he realized they were very close.
One of the voices—the one speaking the most—was indistinguishable from the millions of like voices among the clone troopers. It was measured, calm and confident. The other voice . . . unh, it definitely belonged to the annoying CT-7567. There was just enough change in intonation and inflection to mark his less-than-dulcet tones.
Still, he was speaking quietly enough at the moment.
Which was good, because CT-3636 was in no mood for loud banter.
Kripes, his head was killing him. His entire body ached. He felt as if he had been used as a punching bag. Any second he would work up the determination to open his eyes. Any second. As soon as the pain abated . . .
There was a sudden brief, intense sting in his neck.
That jolted him wide-eyed. "Fek—you don't have to—to stab me to death."
"Sorry about that, Commander."
The clone looking down at him was the platoon medic. He didn't recall his number. He hadn't imagined it would be important. Even for a clone, the man looked young . . . and serious.
"It was a pre-treat in case I need to give you any injections—"
"I don't need any injections."
"Just lie still, Commander," the medic insisted. "You've got some injuries. Let me get a good—"
"What the hell happened?" 3636 cut him off, attempting to raise one hand to his aching head, but the pain stopped him. He had a vague recollection of following the pathway along the cliffs above the river. The storm had caught up with them. They'd had a difficult crossing at a footbridge—
"The cliff wall came down. You got caught in it." This was from CT-7567.
CT-3636 struggled to sit up. "So, where are we now?"
"Please stop moving around, Commander—" the medic repeated.
"We're back up on the path," CT-7567 replied. "CT-6116 is checking you over, and then we're going to decide what to do."
"What do you mean, what to do?" CT-3636 sounded perturbed as he continued fussing against injuries that, while he might want to ignore them, were making their presence felt more with each passing second. "We have to push on—"
"Commander, you must stop moving and let me finish my examination," CT-6116 pressed, still maintaining his medical decorum. "Please don't make me give you an order—"
"You? Give me an order? You're not even a trooper yet," CT-3636 snapped. "You're still a cadet—"
"Would you shut up and let him do his job?" CT-7567 intervened. "Or I can throw you back over the side myself. Would you prefer that?"
CT-3636, despite his pain, raised his brows in surprise . . . and a bit of amusement, which he sorely needed at the moment. "That's pretty insubordinate . . . lieutenant."
"Yeah, well, there's a lot more where that came from if you won't just lie still and let him do what he has to do," 7567 replied. "And the sooner you let him do it, the sooner we'll all be able to get moving and off this cliff side. It's not exactly a good time slouching around in this wind and rain." He waited for a second. "Besides, rank doesn't matter here, remember? We'll all on equal footing."
CT-3636 was silent for a moment. He knew there was no sense in arguing. The best thing to do now was to face the truth of the situation and move ahead accordingly. Strangely enough, he took a certain comfort in the fact that it was CT-7567 who was there to share the burden. One thing he felt certain of: CT-7567 would not waste time puttering around in indecisive circles.
"Okay," he conceded, exhaling heavily. "So . . . how bad's the damage?"
"Not as bad as you'd think," CT-6116 replied. He ticked off the list of injuries, finishing with an upbeat, "Nothing that a few days in a bacta tank can't fix. And I'll even get you off to a head start. As soon as we reach someplace out of this rain, I'll use some of the bacta patches—"
"Why can't you use them now?" CT-4441 asked brusquely. He'd been looking on with interest, and now, in true form, he butt in where he did not really belong.
But CT-6116 was used to it. In fact, it was a trait he rather liked in his squad mate. "Because these wounds need cleaning and irrigating. I can't do that here with all the rain pouring down. I'm going to do a wrap job for now, and once we reach the caves, I can do a proper job," CT-6116 replied.
"How far off are the caves?" CT-7567 asked.
It was CT-5579 who answered. "The map showed the nearest ones on the other side of the river crossing."
"And how far off is that?"
"The crossing is two, two-and-a-half kilometers," 5579 replied. "It's another half kilometer beyond that."
CT-3636 pushed up onto his elbows. "I guess I can hobble that far—"
"No, Sir," 6116 protested immediately. "There's no way that leg will bear the—"
"You said it's not broken," 3636 cut him off. "That means I can make it. Now, help me up." He reached up a hand to CT-4441, who grasped him at the elbow and, with CT-2080's help, got him to his feet.
All the while, CT-6116 voiced vehement disagreement. "Sir, no bones are broken, but the muscle is damaged. You'll need—" He fell abruptly silent as the commander—his charge-in attempting to take a step forward, immediately collapsed. But for the two men holding him up, he would have fallen.
"Sir! The muscle can't handle the weight! Now, I'm ordering you to stop trying to walk and let us carry you!" CT-6116 demanded.
"How are you going to carry me? You don't have any way . . . of . . . carrying . . . " His words came haltingly as he watched the medic reach into his pack, withdraw a 25 by 25 centimeter metal square with a patch of canvas in the center. The press of a button and the square extended into a rectangular-shaped litter. A stretcher.
"You just happen to have that kind of osik in your pack?" CT-3636 challenged.
CT-6116 smiled expectantly. "I'm a medic, Sir. It's part of my kit."
"Plus, he just likes to show off like that," CT-2080 added. "Always prepared."
"And aren't you the luckier for it?" CT-6116 retorted light-heartedly.
"You'll never hear me complain," 2080 replied.
"Not even when I ask you to take the first carry," 6116 said.
"Eh, I knew you would," came the rejoinder. He looked to CT-2085-4. "You take the other end, explosives-man. I can't do this alone."
The two crouched down at either end of the stretcher.
"All aboard, Commander," CT-2080 beamed. "Leaving the station."
It was the longest two or three kilometers CT-3636 had ever known.
Being toted around like an exalted invalid did not sit well with him. He felt embarrassed and useless. His various pains had started to intensify, but CT-6116 was unwilling to give him any pain killer until he'd had a chance to do a more thorough evaluation of his head injury.
Even so, CT-3636 had to give 6116 credit. The medic had stayed at his side to the degree the path would allow, inquiring of him often how he was feeling, checking the temporary bindings of his injuries, and offering a demeanor that even 3636's critical manner could not fault, a demeanor that made CT-3636's forced inaction at least tolerable.
Despite his pain, CT-3636's most bothersome problem was the jumble of thoughts swirling through his head as to whether or not he would be able to complete ARC training. How badly was he injured? How long would he need to heal? What would his fellow trainees think of him? And how would he ever swallow down the humiliation of returning from ARC training without having graduated? What would General Plo Koon say? What would happen to his credibility among the troops?
His thoughts were disrupted by a voice.
"Lieutenant, look up there! It's Bead!"
CT-3636 raised his head in time to see Cadet Bead approaching at a trot, and although the cadet went up to CT-7567, 3636 asserted himself and his rank.
"Report, Cadet," he ordered from his stretcher. "Where's everyone else?
Bead stood at attention. "Sir, we found some caves up ahead and took cover inside. They weren't on the map."
"How far?"
"Not 200 meters, Sir."
A sense of relief washed over CT-3636 as he lay back on the stretcher. "Take us there."
"How are you holding up, Commander?"
CT-7567 hunkered down beside CT-3636 where he was being tended to by CT-6116.
Over an hour had passed since they'd entered the cave. 6116 had immediately gone to work on 3636's injuries while CT-7567 went among the men to check their spirits as well as their physical condition.
Among the six squads of cadets, they had between them twelve compact heat generators—devices no larger than a man's fist but capable of giving off adjustable warmth within a radius of four meters. Most of the men were standing around these generators, trying to dry out their soaked uniforms. Remarkably, they all seemed to be even-keeled if not cheerful. Their concern was more for the commander's welfare than their own; and the chance to get out of the rain and warm up a bit, while clearly a welcome relief, could be seen more as an opportunity to ensure the commander's safety than a break from the weather.
"Well enough," CT-3636 replied, then with a grim expression, he added, "I'm just waiting for CT-6116 to get me back on my feet. There's no way I'm going to be carried the rest of the way."
CT-7567 raised his eyes to the medic, who was busily wrapping the now cleaned and sterilized leg injury. "Is that possible? Will he be able to walk on that leg?"
"Not without help," came the curt response. It was clear from his tone that this subject had already been discussed—or more likely, argued about.
"Well, there are thirty-one of us who can give that help," 7567 offered. "We need to finish this as a team."
"With a broken collar bone and broken ribs, it will be hard to find any way to do a carry that doesn't aggravate his injuries," CT-6116 pointed out. "A litter is the best option."
"That will slow us down too much," CT-3636 balked.
"I'm not concerned with speed at this point," 6116 replied. "My goal is to ensure your health and safety."
"The platoon wants to move fast," CT-3636 stated. "I've noticed how competitive you all are."
"We are competitive," 6116 conceded, "But it's my job to act in the best interest of the health and welfare of the men. Sometimes, my squad mates—and my fellow batchers—get a little carried away with wanting to be first at all costs. I'm here to rein them in."
"Well, you're not going to rein them in this time," 3636 said bluntly.
CT-6116 settled back on his heels. "I can't give them orders," he admitted. "But I can give you orders where your health is concerned, Sir. And believe me, my squad mates will back me up one hundred and ten percent."
CT-7567 hid the smile forming on his lips. He was already deciding he liked this man.
"I'm finished here for now," 6116 concluded. "I've given you a low-dose pain killer, so that should help. Lieutenant, will you stay with him while I go see if I can dry out?"
"Yes, I'll stay," 7567 nodded. "Go on. And, uh, good job, 6116." He settled down beside the commander. "Are you warm enough? I can move the generator closer."
"I'm fine."
CT-7567 did not need any encouragement to get straight to the point. "I think 6116 is right. You're not going to be able to walk, and it's going to be damned near impossible to get you on your feet with your other injuries."
"That may turn out to be the case."
"And if it does?"
"I'll worry about it when the time comes." The answer was almost petulant, but that did not dissuade CT-7567.
"That will be too late. We need to plan our course of action now." A pause. "And if carrying you on the litter is the best option, it's what we need to do."
"I'm not going to be carried around—"
"What are the choices, Commander? Look . . . if you play it safe for the rest of this exercise, chances are they can fix you up enough back at base so that you can complete the school. If you bust yourself up even worse over the next few days, it may end up washing you right out of training," 7567 explained bluntly. "It's like 6116 said, a few days in a bacta tank will probably take care of that leg injury – or a good part of it. Why risk it?"
CT-3636 regarded him with a perplexed scowl. "What do you care if I complete training or not?"
"It's like I said before: we do this as a team," CT-7567 replied. "More than a team. We're all brothers."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," CT-3636 said, but there was an undercurrent in his voice that belied his words. It was almost a tinge of wistful desire, as if the idea were appealing even though he could not accept it. "We're not brothers. We're not someone's children. We were created in laboratories, for the sole purpose of fighting and dying." He was silent for a moment. "And some of us will die without ever being in the fight."
CT-7567 considered. CT-3636's words struck him as odd and unexpected. "I can't tell if you're complaining or not."
"Just a statement of the facts," 3636 replied. "I've heard you call other clones brother. But we're not. Not in the true sense of the word.
"I don't care about the true sense of the word," 7567 grinned. "To me, we're brothers-all of us."
CT-3636 sighed in resignation. By the Force, the lieutenant could wear a soul down. It might not be easy to like him, but it was impossible to hate him. He was irrepressible, and 3636 imagined that such a trait was highly valued by the men who comprised the ranks of the combat arms.
"I'm not in the mood to argue," he said. "Let's get back to the subject."
"Which is how you're going to finish this exercise," 7567 concluded.
They were both silent for some time.
At last, CT-3636 spoke in a low voice. "It's dangerous terrain. And if this weather continues, that makes it more treacherous." He drew in a long, purposeful breath. "We would need the full four days to complete the course. You won't make that if you have to carry me around, whether it's on the litter or with my arm over someone's shoulder. You're going to have to leave me behind."
CT-7567 snorted. "Now, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"It's what you'd do if this were a real-world situation—"
"No, that isn't true," 7567 disagreed. "You know as well as I do that it would depend on the circumstances. And under these circumstances, there's no reason for you to stay behind. If you don't complete this exercise, you'll be sent packing. And if your injuries were grave, the cadre would have already sent a team out to retrieve you. Their satellites can see through all this weather, probably through the walls of this cave. The fact you're still here tells me they don't think the situation is life-threatening . . . not yet, at least."
CT-3636 actually chuckled. "Not that it would matter. They've lost trainees before. It's expected."
"Well, they'd better not expect it from this team," 7567 replied. "And I don't think you should expect that the platoon would agree to leave you behind. I don't think the men would tolerate that idea."
CT-3636 made a dismissive sound. "What makes you say that? They're not really our platoon. We're not their batchers. When this is over in four days, we'll probably never see them again. They just want to get to the finish line . . . and look good doing it."
CT-7567 shook his head. "You know that's not how it is with combat units. Never leave a man behind. Isn't that what we've been taught, even from basic? Even if it's not always practical or possible, it's what we've been taught. Fighting men know that."
"I'm not in a combat unit." The words fell like bricks into the space between them.
After a moment, CT-7567, confused, said, "But you are in a combat unit. General Plo Koon-"
"I'm a staff officer. I plan the battles. I don't fight them."
And suddenly, CT-7567's picture of CT-3636 began to fill in more fully around the edges.
"I'm not usually in a position where I have to decide whether or not to leave anyone behind," 3636 went on.
CT-7567 was pensive. "You should be. You should be leading men. No offense to the job of tactical planner—it's an important job, but it's not the right job for you."
"You've known me for two weeks and you think you already know what's right for me?" CT-3636 said with a mock sneer.
"I always know what's right—for everyone." A smile. "And I know these cadets would all feel like failures if they had to leave one of their own behind. For this exercise, we're one of their own." He gave a quirky grin. "Although, in the future, you might not want to call them fool cadets."
CT-3636 gave a short laugh, aggravating the pain in his side. "What for? You remember being a cadet, right? We were all fools."
CT-7567 assumed an affected indignance. "I never was."
A little bit of that mock arrogance we see from Rex after the battle on Kamino where he tells Fives and Echo that their bravery reminds him of himself. Love that scene!