Dear Reader, Thank you to my reviewers, LLTC, Ms CT-782, The Unnamed Guest, AtinBralor, and Freedom Phantom. So, this chapter goes out to LLTC, who is a big Wolffe fan. As I've pointed out, this chapter was originally written with Cody and Rex teamed up, but I changed it to add some contention - besides, Cody and Rex have a couple big chapters coming up. It's got a somewhat "Lord of the Rings" vibe to it. And the opening quote is another Richard Adams' favorite - and I think it's very fitting for the chapter. Enjoy! CS

Chapter 64 Into the Mountains and the Stone Wolf

"For that's how the Iron Wolf comes, you know, sir – just when you're altogether desperate and can't tell whether your dreaming or waking or whatever you're going to do at all. Some say he's never very far off, but that those who see him can do so only at such a time as that. I never heard but the one man that tried to say what he was like. 'He's made all of a thick, dark smoke,' he said. 'You'd think it was off the bonfire that burns the damned, and nothing alight in it but just the eyes.'"

The Iron Wolf
A Traditional Lithuanian Legend, as written by Richard Adams in The Unbroken Web

"We need to cover more distance before the sun sets," CT-3636 stated. "We're not even halfway. We've got at least six more hours of sunlight. We need to make use of it."

"If we want to get back on course, we'll have to go back to the plateau," CT-7567 pointed out. "We only went east to get away from the tornadoes. There's no passage through these mountains to the end point."

The two of them were huddled around a heat generator, looking over the map with Double-Ones, CT-5579 and CT-4441.

"It sounds like the funnels are still out there," Double-Ones noted.

"We'll have to wait until they die down," 3636 said. "If we keep close to the foothills, we can always take cover in a valley like this one if we need to. It should only be a kilometer or so between here and the route we were taking. We can't risk going back across the plateau. Following the line of the foothills is the best option."

"I agree," CT-7567 nodded. "We've been resting here for a little over two hours. The men should be ready to go. If we get back on our original route, we should still have the caves to the north. We can overnight there."

And so it was decided.

Retracing their steps back to the plateau, they stood just within the wood's edge, watching the funnels tearing across the open space before them. Over the next twenty minutes, the funnels began to thin out; but even then, a handful lingered in their roaming.

"It's almost like they're alive, daring us to come out," CT-4441 quipped.

"Then I say, let's take them up on that dare," came the reply from CT-2080.

CT-4441 gave a sardonic smile. "Yeah, like I told the lieutenant . . . you're crazy."

"Hey, I can't be offended by the truth," 2080 rejoined.

Several steps away, CT-7567 helped CT-3636 to his feet. They both surveyed the scene.

"What do you think?" 7567 asked. "The funnels don't seem to come near the foothills."

"Not that we've seen," 3636 emphasized. "They may be close now, but we don't know that they'll stay that way. We have to keep tight along the edge. From here, it looks like there are plenty of crevices and openings we could retreat into if they do shift this direction." A pause. "My suggestion is that we send a couple men on ahead in fifty meter intervals to check for safe areas. Then we bring the rest of the body up, and send the scouts out again for the next fifty meters."

CT-7567 nodded, then with a grin, "I'd like to thank the tactician in you. That's a good idea."

"Don't try to flatter me, Lieutenant," 3636 warned with only a hint of humor. "We're not in good shape here, and we both may end up failing this thing if we don't come up with some good ideas about how to make up on lost time."

"I wouldn't dream of flattering you," 7567 replied. "I just like to be optimistic." He helped the commander back down onto his litter. "I'll pick two men to send ahead." He already knew his selections before he'd even turned to summon them. "2085-4, Hardcase, front and center!"

CT-2085-4 came forward instantly.

No one else moved.

"You, Hardcase, get up here! What are you waiting for?"

CT-2080 could see the lieutenant was looking at him, yet he turned to make sure there was no one else he might be speaking to. One thing he knew for certain was that none of his batchers went by the name Hardcase.

CT-4441 tapped him on the shoulder. "He means you."

"What? When did I—" CT-2080 began in a low voice, but as CT-4441 nudged him forward, he straightened up, stepped forward, and reported with conviction and perhaps even a bit of pride, "Hardcase, reporting as ordered, Sir."

"Good. The three of us are going to scout ahead along the base of the foothills. We'll go fifty meters at a time and keep an eye out for places we can take cover if those funnels start heading this way. The rest of the platoon will proceed when we call them up. Then we'll scout the next fifty. Understood?"

"Understood, Lieutenant," both men replied.

CT-7567 gave a nod to indicate the meeting was over, and the two men went back to their squad mates. He then turned to CT-3636, who was looking up at him expectantly.

"We'll get underway immediately," 7567 announced, hunkering down beside him.

"We?" CT-3636 questioned, and his meaning was clear.

"Well, yes," 7567 replied. "I think it's best if I go with them."

"I'm not sure I agree with that," 3636 said. "But we don't have time to argue about it." A pause. "Hardcase?"

CT-7567 grinned. "Oh. An idea I got from one of his squad mates."

"As if there's any value in giving us names," 3636 scoffed.

"You go on thinking that, Commander."

"Hardcase? Where the hell did he get the idea to call me that?" CT-2080 was glaring pointedly at CT-5579.

"Don't look at me," Jesse replied. "I didn't say anything to him." He chuckled. "But you have to admit, it is fitting."

CT-2080 turned his attention to his other squad mates. "CT-6116? 2085-4, it better not have been you after all the—" Then he noticed it. CT-4441 standing smugly, arms crossed, a simper playing across his face. "You?"

"I told him you were a hard case," 4441 beamed with amusement. "I didn't know he'd decide to start calling you that." A pause. "But I like it. And Jesse's right. It's perfect for you. Look at all the osik you've stirred up since we were batch-kits. You go out looking for trouble and then pretend to be surprised when it finds you, when all you really want is to mix things up with whoever will accommodate you."

As CT-4441 had spoken, a grin had begun to form on CT-2080's face, and now it spread from ear-to-ear. "I like the sound of all that. Okay, then, Hardcase, it is."

The platoon made good progress along the base of the foothills. There were several times when the funnels whirled close, but there was never really any danger. The funnels preferred the relatively flat ground of the plateau; and even if they had approached the foothills, the scout team always had a good safe spot into which the platoon could retreat.

For CT-7567, the exercise—though perilous up to this point, with the result being two injured men—had taken on a competitive quality. He wondered how Cody was doing with his platoon. Or more accurately, he wondered if the commander was having more success than he was. Was Cody's platoon encountering the same degree of difficulty? The same trials? What were his cadets like and how did they compare with these cadets?

"We have to finish this – on time and with all our men," he said to himself as he waited with Hardcase and CT-2085-4 for the rest of the platoon to join them on what was their last leg of the journey along the foothills, the last stretch before reentering the mountains, this time to the north. "We can't lose any more time. If we take one more break overnight, we can press on for the next two days non-stop. These lads can do it. We're engineered for it, and these boys are as competitive as I am. Well . . . maybe the medic might object, but even he wants to be the best – just like the rest of them." He looked to his right, where the newly minted Hardcase was lining up his sights on non-existent targets out on the plateau.

"Are you planning to shoot at the thin air?" he asked.

"No, Sir," came the game reply. "I just like the feel of firepower in my hands."

At this, CT-2085-4 shook his head with a derisive laugh. "You're lucky they haven't sent you back to the scrap heap. I've never met anyone so anxious to start shooting . . . Hardcase."

"Ha! Who are you talking about?" Hardcase challenged. "You're worse than I am! I just want to shoot the enemy. You want to blow everything up – and when I say everything, I mean everything! You just like to see things explode."

CT-7567 turned to regard 2085-4. "Is that true?"

"Well, I am training to be demolitions specialist, Sir," came the reply, perhaps somewhat sheepish but definitely not accompanied by any shame. "So, uh, I guess I do like to play around with explosives."

"That's a dangerous job," 7567 pointed out. "I take it you're also training to remove EOD."*

"I finish the advance course one week before we graduate," came the proud reply. "I have a one hundred percent accuracy rate."

"He's first in his class," Hardcase added, joining in his squad mate's pride.

"That's a great accomplishment," 7567 stated approvingly. "That's a career field where one wrong move, one mistake can cost a lot of lives."

"That's why he's so well-suited for it," Hardcase nodded. "Hands as steady as a surgeon's. And nerves, to match." He turned his attention away from his invisible targets and regarded 2085-4 with a definite affection. "A bit too much seriousness for my tastes."

"An EOD specialist has to be serious," 2085-4 replied. "Like the lieutenant said: one wrong move—"

"One day I'm going to get you to lighten up," Hardcase interrupted.

CT-7567 listened to them banter back and forth; and then a strange emptiness flashed through his consciousness. It took him only a moment to realize what it was. Seeing these batchers, these squad mates, not even Shinies yet, filled with the pre-war giddiness of men for whom battle was still only a text-book scenario, he suddenly felt a longing for his own batchers, his own brothers.

It had only been three weeks since he had left the front, and already he missed them, wondered how they were doing, wondered if he had lost any since his departure. In his dreams, he had come to ARC training fully prepared to land a position in the 501st – or to at least distinguish himself enough to be considered a candidate for the vaunted legion. But he'd also carried, in the back of his mind, the tacit knowledge that to take such a position would mean leaving his batchers. In fact, accepting enrollment in ARC training entailed the possibility that a trainee might not be returning to his original unit. ARCs were doled out where needed.

CT-7567 had known that there was a better than 50-50 chance he would not be returning to the 729th. That thought hadn't really troubled him until now. But seeing the brotherhood, an almost-familial closeness between these cadets—especially among those in Saber Squad—he was put in mind of his own brothers and what life would be like without them.

But as quickly as the thought arose, it blew away like the rubble carried in the funnels.

"You can't afford to care."

It was a callous thought but one that worked well enough. But only in a certain sense. For while it might force down the emotion or sentimental investment he had in his men, it could not remove the dreaded weaknesses associated with those emotions and sentiments. Still, at least he had the insight to recognize his shortcomings and do everything he could to keep them at bay.

He had mastered the role of the lighthearted super soldier: the officer who could laugh and smile away even the most disastrous circumstances, react to the death of men around him as an unfortunate afterthought of conflict, and still rally the men while dismissing his own grief as something that no one else should ever see or even suspect.

That was what he'd been taught: do your job and don't let emotions get in the way.

Damn, they'd all been taught that!

So, why did he seem to have more trouble carrying out that maxim than his brothers? They could feel, get it out, let it go, and move on.

CT-7567 could feel—too much, he often mused—but that was where it ended. Instead of embracing and working out those feelings, he preferred to simply keep them inside and forged ahead, dragging a train of unspoken, unrevealed reckonings that he could no more discard than he could engage. Yes, he could move on, but the load he carried always threatened to drag him backwards.

How he had come to that point he had no idea. None of his brothers were like that. Not a single one of them! He was certain that, of the millions of units being produced, he was the only one who had an overabundance of sentimentality, an encompassing attachment that was not only undesirable but dangerous. So dangerous that he could not permit it any place in his life.

And now, all he had to do was think, "You can't afford to care," and the well-conditioned response chased all troubling thoughts right out of his mind.

"Here they come, Sir." It was CT-2085-4, noting the approach of the rest of the platoon. "Do you want us to start checking out the last bit?"

The truth was he didn't want them to go without him, but a show of trust was in order after the good job they'd done thus far. "Go on. I'll come up with the rest of them this time."

"Roger that, Sir," Hardcase replied. Then to 2085-4, "Let's go, Brother. And try to keep up."

They arrived at the caves an hour after sunset.

In fact, it was only one cave. It reached into the hillside roughly twenty meters, and at its widest it was no more than ten meters across with a fairly high ceiling. The ground inside was well-trampled for a place that was supposed to be sparsely visited. Blackened circles on the ground were testimony of the cave's previous visitors, and there were actually piles of chopped wood lined up against the rear wall.

Jesse got the troops to build a couple fires, deciding it was better to save the thermal heaters for any future emergencies. In the meantime, CT-7567 and CT-3636 conferred.

"If we want to pass this test, we need to set out before sunrise and keep going non-stop for the next two days. A five-minute rest here and there wouldn't put us too much more behind schedule, but we've got to make up all the time we've lost," CT-3636 stated.

CT-7567 was speechless for a moment. This was the exact same conclusion he had come to; but while he'd imagined he would have to fight to get his point to win the day, he now saw that both he and the commander were on the same page.

"Normally, since this is a training environment, I'd say it's not that important," he admitted. "But after what we've been through, this is a matter of pride now. They probably don't expect us to make it." A pause. "Do you think they knew how dangerous this was before they sent us out here?"

"I'm sure they did. But they sent us out here anyway, so there must be some tricks, some shortcuts or other options that we're not thinking of. We've been doing everything by the book, making all the reasonable decisions. Maybe it's time to toss reason aside," 3636 stated. A pause. "You think the men can handle two days non-stop?"

"I know they can."

"Then set the watch and tell them to get a good night's sleep. We'll get them up around 0300 and get underway. Get Jesse and Double-Ones over here. I want to get a good look at that map." A determined, almost devious expression swept across his face. "And I think it's time we started relying a bit more on our instincts than on what appears to be logical."

The following day, CT-7567 learned just what it meant to trust CT-3636's instincts.

The first thing he noticed was that CT-3636 had no need of a chronometer, an alarm, or anything else to tell him what time it was. His internal, circadian clock seemed to have already adjusted to the rotation of Myotta, and he was up at 0245 without any assistance to rouse him.

CT-7567 found himself genuinely awed by the commander's almost animalistic sense of stealth and caution, moving a group of thirty men through the forest on the gradual slope up the valley path. It seemed that the rough-and-tumble of the plains and the river had awakened in the commander an awareness of the need to move quietly and quickly through the thickening trees.

Several times throughout the day, a number of the cadets reported seeing a flash, a glimpse from the corners of their eyes, of a figure or a shadow moving through the woods. None of them could get a long enough look to give any decent description, but their alertness increased as they continued on.

By late afternoon, the platoon had left the dense forest of the lower altitudes and was now moving into the more sparsely wooded middle range. Behind and below them, through breaks in the thinning trees, they could see the grand and stunning vista of the plateau laid out below them. At the moment, all was quiet. The clouds moved across the area in billowy bands, but there were no twisters. The temperature dropped, the higher they went.

Double-Ones opined that there might be snow at the highest levels. Indeed, peering through the binoculars, there were white patches that could easily be snow – or the sediment of a landslide. It was impossible to tell from this distance.

It was also becoming clear that the path they were on was growing less and less discernible as they moved towards the top of the treeline.

"Double-Ones, Jesse, where does the map show the path going once we leave the woods?" 7567 asked, trudging along just ahead of 3636's litter.

Double-Ones and Jesse came and walked beside him, map open.

"It makes a marked turn to the west," Double-Ones pointed out. "Then here it shows up as dashes. I'm not sure what that means."

"It probably means that it's barely a trail at all by that point," Jesse stated. "I think once we come out of the woods, we're going to have to rely on the map, our Compass, and the Mylar Pro." He pursed his lips in a wry grin. "After all, that's what this exercise was supposed to be all about: land navigation without the aid of a computer." A chuckle. "I think it turned into a little more than that."

"It's a survival course," Double-Ones agreed.

"A chance to prove what you're made of," 7567 pointed out. "Well, let's get above the trees and see the lay of the land."

CT-3636 did not say anything during the brief meeting. CT-7567 glance at him and noticed an intense, concentrated look on his face.

"Are you alright, Commander?" he asked.

In a guarded voice, he answered, "It feels like something is following us, watching us."

CT-7567 was mildly surprised by this somewhat mystical, amorphous response; but then he had already found much about the commander that did not fit his impression of him. "The cadre?" he inquired.

"I'm sure they are watching, but that's not what I'm sensing," came the wary reply.

"Should I send a patrol out to take a look?" CT-7567 asked.

"No . . . no. But tell the men to keep an eye open. I don't what it is, but something is following us."

"Understood."

The message was relayed, and the platoon resumed their trek.

It was twilight by the time they cleared the last of the trees.

And now, as expected, the path was completely gone.

"It's going to be tricky going over this terrain in the dark with no clear idea where we're going other than a general westerly direction," Double-Ones commented to Jesse. "The men can alternate using their lumens. We've got to have enough left to light the way tomorrow night."

"I'll propose it to the commander and the lieutenant," Jesse replied. "And then, uh, I need another one of 6116's concoctions on this shoulder. It's starting to ache again."

"Speaking of 6116, how's he doing?" Double-Ones asked.

"Fine. I think he's fully recovered," Jesse replied. A smile. "Which is a good thing, because I need that homemade salve of his. I swear, he's got all sorts of those witch-doctor treatments he comes up with—"

"I'm sure they taught all that to him in ADMED*," Double-Ones poked. "Although, knowing 6116, I wouldn't be surprised if he has all kinds of lab experiments brewing in his sleeping tube."

"You and me both." Jesse then went and addressed CT-7567 and CT-3636 together. "We probably have another thirty minutes before it gets dark, maybe a little longer," he announced. "Once it gets dark, our progress will slow down. The terrain up here isn't as hostile as on the plateau, but it's still tricky. And we won't be able to see more than a few meters in front of us."

"We can do what we did on the plateau," CT-7567 suggested. "Send out a scout party first to find the easiest route. Actually, we can send out two or three and leap-frog it. By the time the rest of the platoon catches up, the next team will have already found the next route. Commander?"

"That sounds like a good idea," 3636 concurred, but it was clear that his attention was elsewhere; and now CT-7567 was starting to wonder if some manner of delirium or hallucination was settling in following his injuries. He decided he would direct 6116 to conduct another check of the commander's health before starting off again.

"Excuse me, Commander, Lieutenant." CT-9142, a Predator Squad clone, approached. "There's something over the rise that you might want to see." He took a few steps back and they followed him. "Me and some of the men noticed it as we were walking. We thought it was just cloud, but . . . it looks like steam or mist."

"You're right," CT-7567 nodded, looking at the wisp of steam rising up above the ridge. "Come with me. We're going to check it out. CT-4441! You're with us!"

"CT-7567!" This from the commander. "Keep an eye out. We're still being followed."

The lieutenant gave a dubious nod then headed off with his small detail. As they passed CT-6116, he leaned in and spoke in quiet voice, "Go check on him. I think he's starting to imagine things."

The top of the rise was just over a hundred meters away and not more than twenty meters vertical climb. They made it to the crest in less than two minutes.

And what they saw on the other side held them speechless for several seconds.

Before them stretched a landscape of hissing geysers and vents, rain-filled pools of thermal-heated water, sending their own wisps of steam into the air, and on the far side, nearly half a kilometer away, what was clearly the fiery red-orange of an active lava flow.

"Well, this explains the plateau we just crossed," CT-9142 stated. "It's an old lava flow."

"I think you're right," 7567 concurred. "Did any of this show up on the map?"

"I don't recall, Sir," 4441 replied. "We'll have to take a look when we get back down." A pause. "Are we going to try going through it?"

"I'm not sure we have a choice," CT-7567 frowned. "We'll see what our options are. Come on, let's go back."

Returning to the rest of the platoon, the lieutenant was relieved to see that CT-6116 had done as instructed and was with the commander.

"What did you find?" CT-3636 inquired immediately, and he sounded perfectly coherent.

"It appears we are on the side of a volcano," 7567 gave the plain and simple answer.

The others—6116, Jesse, and Double-Ones—stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. Then CT-3636 said, with more than a hint of exasperation, "Is there anything else they can throw at us?"

"I wouldn't want to ask," 7567 replied.

"Can we make it through?" the commander asked.

"From what we could see, I think the answer is yes," came the reply. "But I can't be sure. It was mostly steamers, but on the far side, there was an active lava flow."

"Maybe this is why there are hash marks on the map at this point," Double-Ones suggested. "It's not a clear path."

"Do we risk it in the dark?" 7567 asked.

"We're going to have to," 3636 replied. "We can take it slowly."

CT-4441 spoke up with the voice of optimism. "Well, with all the thermals up there, it's bound to be warmer than what we've been coming up through. Maybe we'll have a chance to warm up and dry out."

CT-6116 simpered. "If we don't end up getting burned to a crisp."

"That's the spirit, LB," 4441 teased.

CT-3636 was suddenly impatient. "Let's get moving, then. We have a few more minutes before it gets dark. Let's make the most of it."

They resumed their climb up the mountainside along the route taken by CT-7567 and his party; and as they descended the other side, they noted with caution the unpredictability of the geysers and steamers. It would not be difficult to keep a good distance from them, but the clones were wary, noting places to take cover in the event of any bursts of hot water or scalding steam.

Perhaps thirty meters into the area, a call went up from near the middle of the platoon.

"Medic! We need a medic here!"

CT-7567 turned to see one of Nocturne Squad's cadets collapsed to the ground and CT-6116 working his way back to him. As he watched, a second cadet dropped. Then a third.

"What the hell—"

CT-6116 had his medical scanner out. "It's—it's poisonous gas – coming from these vents."

They did not have respirators with them. They'd not imagined they'd be needed.

"Everyone, go back!" CT-3636 ordered. "Pick those men up and get them out of here!"

No sooner had they turned to begin their retreat than there appeared before them, on the rocks over which they had just come, a great wolf-like creature, nearly three-quarters the size of a man, covered in a pelt of magnificent grey and white fur, and with fangs so long, they protruded over the bottom lip.

Immediately, one of the cadets drew his weapon.

"No!" CT-3636 shouted. "Don't shoot!" A pause as every other cadet raised his weapon in anticipation of the order to fire. It was a well-honed reaction to any perceived threat. "I don't think they mean to hurt us."

CT-7567 looked down at CT-3636, who was forcing himself to his feet. He reached out an arm and helped him up. "They?"

"There's more than one," 3636 replied. As he spoke, at least two dozen more of the creatures emerged from their hiding places.

"How—how did you . . . " 7567 could not even finish the sentence.

"Everyone, lower your weapons," 3636 ordered.

"I don't think that's a good—"

"I'm pulling rank on you," 3636 cut him off. "Screw the rules. Right now, you're a lieutenant, and I'm a commander. I need you to back me up on this one."

CT-7567 slowly reholstered his weapons, a sign for the others to stand down as well. "What is it?" he said in a near-whisper. "Some kind of wolf?"

"I'm not sure," 3636 replied. "Looks like one." A pause. "He looks like he's been through a few battles of his own."

The creature appeared aged and battle-worn. Half of one ear was missing and the other was torn and tattered. A jagged scar ran over across one whitened eye. The thick coat was more white than grey. Yet there was no question but that he was leader of the pack.

CT-3636 could not account for it, but he felt that he was looking at wisdom and patience. After all, the animals had been following the platoon for several hours, remaining concealed, not acting aggressively. Just . . . observing. If they were hostile, why had they not attacked?

"What do you want to do?" 7567 asked, seeing that the wolves were not showing any indication of departing.

"Just wait a minute," 3636 replied evenly. "I want to see what they do."

CT-7567 was truly at a loss. This was not the sort of thing with which he was familiar. Among the ARC trainees, CT-3636 had seemed to be a straightforward, unambiguous officer – nothing mysterious about him. But this was incredible—baffling, no less. For all CT-7567 knew, it was almost Jedi-like. He could only surmise about that last bit, for in the 729th, he'd never worked alongside any Jedi. The 729th was under the command of both a clone officer and a non-clone humanoid, but no Jedi; and so what CT-7567 knew about Jedi was mostly from hearsay. To own the truth, General Shaak-Ti was the only Jedi with whom he'd had any experience worth mentioning.

But CT-3636 had spent months working alongside one of the most renowned and respected of all the Jedi: General Plo Koon, a Jedi known for his empathy and almost telepathic sensitivity. Could it be—was it even conceivable that CT-3636 had imbibed some small part of those praiseworthy traits. Was it possible? Did clone officers take on the characteristics of their Jedi commanders? Even their skills?

"We can't wait much longer." This came from Jesse, who was close beside them. "More of our men are passing out. This gas could be deadly."

"Okay . . . " CT-3636 raised his voice. "Everyone move back past them, but go slow and don't do anything to provoke them." To CT-7567, "Help me walk. I don't want to be carried."

"Right," CT-7567 dragged the word out as a sign of his skepticism.

The wolves backed away as the platoon began to move past them, but their yellow eyes followed the clones' every move.

The pack leader did not move. He watched as CT-3636 and CT-7567 passed within a few meters of where he stood, then let loose with a long, mournful howl.

The hair on the back of 7567's neck stood on end. "They're going to attack any second."

"No, they're not," 3636 deferred. Then, as the wolf began heading towards a crevice in the mountainside, the commander ordered, "Follow him."

"What?"

"Follow him," 3636 repeated. "He wants us to follow him. He wants to show us something."

"This is crazy," CT-7567 said, refusing to take a step. "He's moving away. Just let him go."

"Look, he's waiting for us to follow him. Now go," CT-3636 commanded. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not sure you do. I can get CT-6116 to certify you as unfit—"

"I'm perfectly fit, and you know it," the commander pushed back. "These creatures could have attacked us a hundred times over. They haven't. They want us to follow them."

"Why would they want us to follow them?"

"That's what we're going to find out."

"Look, Commander, you can barely walk. We're never going to be able—"

CT-3636 cut him off. "Then bring someone else to help you carry me, if you can't do it yourself. I'm sure between the three of us, we can make it."

"Good grief," 7567 said to himself, but a part of him wanted to see if the commander was right, what were these animals trying to communicate?

He summoned CT-2085-4, and together, the threesome followed the animal to the crevice, which, upon closer inspection, was actually an opening into the mountainside.

"It's a passageway," 2085-4 stated.

"He wants us to go this way," CT-3636 determined.

"Commander, this is where I have to protest," CT-7567 insisted. "He probably wants to lead us in there, trap us, and then they'll attack us."

"We have enough firepower to kill all of them—and easily," 3636 pointed out. "We have nothing to lose by seeing what's down this passageway. We know we can't go through up here, not with that poisonous gas." He turned to 2085-4. "Go tell the men to stand by. Absolutely no firing—"

"Belay that order," CT-7567 said forcefully. "Commander, I am not letting you go in there, not until some of us go in first to check it out. You're not mobile enough, in case we run into any trouble. I'm telling you to stay out here until we can make sure it's safe." He went on before 3636 could protest. "And if you argue with me, I will call CT-6116 over here to declare you—"

"I'm not going to argue," CT-3636 preempted. "But don't you do anything stupid. These creatures want to help us. Don't screw this up, Lieutenant."

With that, CT-7567 summoned CT-4441 and Hardcase. To 4441, he spoke in a hushed voice. "Keep an eye on the commander. I don't know why he's so trusting of these animals." Then to 2080, "You're with me and 2085-4."

They entered the passageway following the lead of the wolf. Hardcase turned on his lumen, and in the dim light, they could see that there were other passages branching off into the darkness. A hundred meters into the mountain, the walls began to exude a faint reddish light, like sun through a partly opaque filter. The cold of the tunnel gave way to a comfortable warmth.

"Fek and all, we must be passing close to a magma chamber," Hardcase said.

"There's still probably at least twenty-to-thirty meters of rock between us and any chamber," 2085-4 replied. "But I, uh, wouldn't want to stay down here any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Do you think this goes all the way through the mountain, Lieutenant?"

"It's possible," came the noncommittal answer.

"No gases so far," Hardcase noted. "And the dog hasn't tried to attack us yet."

CT-7567 grinned. "The dog? You'd better hope that dog can't understand you. He looks a hell of a lot more ferocious than any dog I've ever seen." A pause. "Have any other wolves followed us?"

"Not that I've seen," CT-2085-4 replied. "They could be concealed, but I don't think the rest of the platoon would let them in behind us."

"Go back and tell the commander it's safe to come in, but the men should still keep their weapons at the ready," 7567 ordered Hardcase.

Over the next five minutes while waiting for the platoon, CT-7567 checked out his surroundings. The passageway was clearly a naturally occurring opening, the floor of which had been smoothed out, but the walls of which were still uneven and irregular. At some places it was little higher than his own head; at others, it stretched up into the darkness and out of sight. He placed his hand on the glowing stone. It was warm but not too hot to touch. And if he listened closely, he could a slow, low rumbling – almost a humming, which he imagined was the churning and inner workings of a clearly active volcano.

"As long as it doesn't erupt while we're on it . . . or in it," he thought wryly. His attention was then drawn by the sound of 2085-4's voice.

"Do you understand me?"

Turning, he saw the cadet down on one knee, looking the wolf in the eye from a distance of less than a meter.

"Cadet . . . don't get that close," he warned. "I want you to back away."

"Sir, I think . . . I think the commander's right. He doesn't want to hurt us."

"He's a wild animal," CT-7567 said. "He could turn on you in an instant. Keep your distance."

"Yes, Lieutenant." He got slowly, somewhat dejectedly, to his feet.

Shortly thereafter, the rest of the platoon began to arrive.

"Did the rest of the wolves follow you inside?" CT-7567 asked as CT-3636 came up between Double-Ones and Bead.

"No," he replied. "They all just disappeared back into the land."

"How are our men who passed out?"

"They're okay. 6116 took a look at them. They're all back on their feet . . . maybe feeling a little nauseous, but they're okay," the commander replied.

"You think it's safe to keep following him?" CT-7567 asked, already knowing the answer.

"I do. And given that we can't go overland, this seems to be our best choice."

"We don't even know where this is leading," the lieutenant stated. "This could still be a trap. Or worse. We're passing through a volcano."

CT-3636 surprised him with a wicked grin. "Well, isn't this something? I thought you were the dare-devil, afraid of nothing. An adventure like this should be right in your target zone."

CT-7567 recognized the challenge, and while his gut wanted to jump at the chance, his better sense told him that this was not a simple training scenario. This had the potential to be a genuinely dangerous situation. In fact, this entire exercise had been one mishap after another. If he thought about it, perhaps being underground in the belly of a volcanic mountain might be the safest environs of the journey so far.

"I'm all for adventure, but . . . we're trusting your instincts that this animal is somehow . . . trying to help us. Forgive me, Commander, but that's a bit . . . it's just doesn't make sense to me," he replied at last.

"You're free to go back . . . and take anyone with you who doubts what I'm doing," CT-3636 replied bluntly.

CT-7567 felt a pang somewhere deep inside. "I meant what I said about staying together. I may disagree with this course of action, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to split up the platoon."

"Then for once, try to trust someone other than yourself," 3636 said.

The fact that this was said in front of several of the cadets set the lieutenant back on his heels. He set his shoulders and instead of retreating, he did as he always did and rose to the occasion.

"I've trusted you so far. Whether or not I keep trusting you will depend on what happens from here on in."

"Fair enough," 3636 nodded. "And if I fek everything up, you can say you told me so."

*EOD – Explosive Ordnance Devise

*ADMED – Advanced Medical Training

And yes, a very Star Wars-ish mushy bow to connect Wolffe's unfortunate eye injury to the Wolf's eye injury. Maybe I have some George Lucas in me! I usually wouldn't do something so corny and blatant, but I kind of like the idea in this case!