Dear Reader, Many thanks to Ms CT-782, The Unnamed Guest, Sued13, MilanWinters, and Jinjaneko for your reviews! Much appreciated! Well, this chapter is fairly long and fairly silly, but it does give Rex his name. A number of you already had a pretty good idea when I mentioned "King" where it was coming from. Okay, so Latin isn't in the SW universe, but hey with names like Luke, Han, Leia, and Lars, I kind of figured, I could create a parallel language in which Rex has the same meaning as in Latin! I originally had this as two chapters, but it was just too long, so the next chapter will be coming soon, and everything goes to hell in a hand-basket! Enjoy! CS
CT-7567: RexCommander CodyCommander Wolffe
CT-5869: LT Stone
CT-2025: LT Colt
CT-5052: LT BlyCT-1004: LT Gree
CT-9090: OC from Echo Squad
CT-390: OC from Echo Squad
CT-8448: OC from Echo Squad
Captain Snap: OC from Bravo Squad
Chapter 68 Vite Diu Rex
"One day the trees went out to anoint a king for themselves. They said to the olive tree, 'Be our king.' But the olive tree answered, 'Should I give up my oil, by which both gods and humans are honored, to hold sway over the trees?' Next, the trees said to the fig tree, 'Come and be our king.' But the fig tree replied, 'Should I give up my fruit, so good and sweet, to hold sway over the trees?' Then the trees said to the vine, 'Come and be our king.' But the vine answered, 'Should I give up my wine, which cheers both gods and humans, to hold sway over the trees?' Finally all the trees said to the thorn bush, 'Come and be our king.' The thorn bush said to the trees, 'If you really want to anoint me king over you, come and take refuge in my shade."
Judges 10-14, The Bible
"One thing's for sure. He hates my guts. But that's fine. It's not worth getting worked up over," CT-7567 shrugged with affected indifference, but this act did not fool Cody. The commander knew that his roommate would scoff at even the slightest intimation that he might be bothered by CT-5052's loathing, and so he tried to maneuver the conversation to a place where they could discuss it without 7567 casting asides.
"Well, if he thinks you tried to jounce the line on purpose—"
"No, no, it started way before now. It started on the very first day."
The two men were on their way back from the obstacle course with a ten minute window to be ready for the next activity, which was a four-hour block on "Tactical Combat in a Zero Gravity Environment" – a class which both men were looking forward to.
"Not that it matters," the lieutenant went on. "I'm not particularly fond of him, either; but it's disappointing between brothers, you know?"
Cody gave a knowing grin. "You act as if, because we're all made from the same genetic material, we should all get along without any conflict."
"We should."
"Good grief, now even I know that's ridiculous," Cody chastised.
"Maybe."
"You're the last person I would have expected to see the universe through the lens of idealism," Cody prodded.
"That's good," 7567 replied. "That means I can still keep you guessing." A sidelong grin. "And with this liberty supposedly coming up in four days, that element of surprise could prove fun."
"That almost sounds like a threat."
"Only you could think of fun as threatening."
Cody narrowed his eyes. "It's not the idea of fun that's threatening; it's your idea of fun that has me worried."
But he did not sound worried.
Not at all. In fact, he sounded eager.
Four days would tell.
"Wow, you clean up pretty nicely in your Class A's," CT-5869 observed with outsized approbation. "I'll bet you don't get to wear those very often."
CT-7567 simpered. "Thankfully. I feel like a stuffed suit."
CT-1004 piped up, "I like mine. I think I look damned good in it, too."
"You look like a commercial luxury starliner pilot," Commander Wolffe scoffed.
"Fine with me," 1004 replied. "As long as I look like a lady killer."
"Uh, you don't even know what the ladies on this planet look like," Wolffe pointed out. "Don't you think it's a good idea to cool your burners until after you see if the local female populace is even human?"
"What, do you think I'm looking for a wife?" 1004 rejoined. "If she can dance with me, I don't care what she looks like."
"Famous last words," Captain Snap grinned, then with an air of impatience. "When is this crate going to take off? How many more men are we waiting for?"
"Well, I know CT-2025 is supposed to be in this group," CT-9090 stated.
Cody glanced at CT-7567 and read the unspoken message written across his face, for CT-2025's roommate was CT-5052. There was no question that 7567 had little desire to include 5052 in the knot of brothers with whom he was planning to pass the night's activities; but it was equally clear that he would not speak out against his inclusion, if, in fact, he showed up with CT-2025.
Which is precisely what happened.
Within five minutes of the shuttle's scheduled departure time, both CT-2025 and CT-5052 entered the hangar in a hurry.
"It's about time," 7567 greeted his squad mate. "I thought we were going to end up leaving without you."
"Well, we made it, so let's get this bucket moving," 2025 replied cheerfully. He sat down on the jump seat next to 7567 and lowered his voice as 5052 sat several seats down. "5052 wasn't going to come. I had a hell of a time convincing him to."
"I wouldn't have bothered," 7567 replied.
"I know you wouldn't have, but he's my roommate and I wanted him to come," 2025 said with no reservation. "He and I get along great, and whatever it is he's got under his skin, I want to see what I can do to help."
"You could keep him away from me for starters," 7567 replied. "I seem to be the focus for his hatred."
"He's pretty curt and biting with everyone," 2025 said. "But I agree, you seem to be the lightning rod for his . . . ill temper."
"And so you decide to bring him out on our night on the town," 7567 ribbed. "Thanks a lot."
"He's not a bad guy," 2025 insisted. "There's something there, yes, but I'm not quite sure what it is yet. He doesn't talk about the past. I know he was on Ryloth during the evacuations. More than that, he keeps to himself."
"Whatever happened on Ryloth, I don't see why it should make him hate me," 7567 humphed. "I wasn't on Ryloth."
CT-2025 shook his head. He had no answer. But he was determined to keep the peace.
"I don't know why he feels the way he does about you," he admitted. "But you will try to be agreeable, right? You won't provoke him?"
"Why are you saying that to me? You should be saying it to him."
"I already have. Now, I'm saying it to you. You value brotherhood above everything else; show yourself to be the best kind of brother."
CT-7567 groaned. "You're starting to sound like Commander Cody."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
If Commander Wolffe had been an alarmist over the possible dearth of attractive females, he had worried needlessly.
The fair-sized city into which he and nineteen of his brothers had been deposited was teeming with women of all shapes and sizes, numerous species—many of them humanoid—clearly used to the presence of clones and none too shy about expressing their . . . admiration.
Myotta was not a densely inhabited planet. In fact, it boasted only a few population centers, and even these were quite modest by Coruscant standards. The indigenous population was humanoid and in most respects, very similar to humans. The non-natives were abundant, given that Myotta sat on a heavily travelled space lane between the core systems and the outer rim. Travelers needed to be tended – in any number of ways. In the major space ports, there was a thriving hospitality industry that catered to the travelers. Lastly, there was a smaller population that consisted of those who had come to Myotta in support of the Republic's military activities on the planet. These people tended to be clustered around the military installations, but they often made their way into the cities for recreation and diversion.
As the trainees now walked through the streets, taking in their surroundings, they also took in the sea swell of alien beauties.
"I've never seen so many gempas in one place," 1004 observed with enthusiasm.
"Well, you call them gempas and see what that gets you," Cody warned.
"It's a compliment," 1004 insisted.
"And I'm sure some will take it that way," Cody replied. "Others might just knock your lights out. Besides, we don't want to take any chances on insulting anyone and making a bad showing of the Republic Forces."
"Understood, Commander," 1004 conceded with feigned disappointment.
Cody clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sure your overwhelming charm will be enough to win them over."
They continued walking past the bright lights, hearing the music coming from within, observing the passers-by. It was still relatively early in the evening, and the nightlife was just coming alive.
But for Cody and CT-7567, the first order of business was dinner. They had purposefully skipped the evening meal with the intent of indulging non-chow hall sustenance. And now they were on the lookout for some fine cuisine.
Other members of their group were ready to head straight for the bars and nightclubs.
As they all prepared to go their separate ways, Cody exercised his position as the senior ranking commander to remind them of some rules. "No over-indulging, gentlemen. In any respect. You're representing the Grand Army of the Republic. If you get in trouble, you'll be kicked right out of ARC training, and we've all come too far to throw it away for a stupid mistake. And don't miss pickup time. Be at the port at 0500. If you want to call it an early night, make it an early night at the port bunkhouse. No overnighting in any of the city's hotels."
There was a general murmur of agreement, and then the group dispersed.
With Cody and CT-7567 were Wolffe, Snap, and CT-5869 – all on the mission to find a fine-dining experience. They settled on an eating establishment that catered to the human palate, and here they passed nearly two hours in a leisurely repast.
Since Tinderhout, CT-7567 and Commander Wolffe had come to a mutual, if not warm, respect for each other; and so they were able to sit at the same table without any of the contention that had marked their previous interactions. On the other hand, the relationship between Wolffe and CT-5968 had not progressed from where it had stood on the first day and the commander's disdain for the latter's position as a member of the Coruscant Guard. The fact that they had ended up in the same group at this early point in the evening necessitated that they both treat the other with, at the very least, cordiality; for they both knew that Commander Cody would not tolerate any foolishness, and despite the fact that both Wolffe and Cody were commanders, the latter's status as the senior commander was indisputable.
"Two weeks left, boys," CT-7567 said, piling onto his plate a heaping spoon of some sort of stew from a communal bowl set in the middle of the table. "And then it's back to the real world."
"It's gone by fast," Captain Snap stated. "And, you know, I'm surprised that no one from our class has washed out. By this time, they've usually lost twenty to thirty percent of the trainees."
"I imagine it's because we're the first class to come through with a significant amount of experience in the field," Cody opined. "We've seen the war firsthand. And a lot of it."
"It's only been four months since the war started," Wolffe pointed out.
"And it feels like enough for a lifetime," CT-5869 said.
"I like it," 7567 stated, then seeing the dumbfounded expressions directed back at him, he clarified. "The training, that is. It's a lot more fun than I thought it would be. And there's been some useful stuff."
"You sound like you didn't want to come here to begin with," Snap said in a manner of query.
"Well, it's a little more complicated than that," 7567 replied. "I wanted to become an ARC trooper, but I had a lot of . . . reservations about leaving my unit. It was my commander who put me in for consideration."
"You do realize you may not be going back to the same unit," Wolffe put forth.
"Oh, I realize it," came the assured response. "The commander and I were just talking about this not too long ago. My goal is a position in the 501st." A pause. "But I don't like the idea of leaving my batchers behind."
Cody grinned. "Not only that, but he's not interested in any position unless it's battalion first-in-command."
"Isn't that position already taken?" 5869 asked.
"It is . . . and by a very capable officer," Cody replied. He looked at his roommate and teased, "You might qualify to be the man who shines his armor."
CT-7567 shook his head with a soft laugh. "You know, you could pull some strings and get me in there."
"I don't have that much power." Cody looked to the others. "What about the rest of you? What assignments are you hoping to get?"
Commander Wolffe spoke up immediately and with surety. "I don't want to be reassigned. General Plo Koon is my Jedi. I don't think I'd be happy working for any other. I'm just hoping to get out of the tactician's job and into a field command."
CT-5869 was more circumspect in his answer. "I'd be happy to move up in the echelons of the CG. I'm not looking for a field command. I'm good at what I do right now."
"What about you, Snap?"
"I want to get assigned to one of the ARC battalions," he replied. "Go from unit to unit as a special advisor and trouble-shooter, solving problems where I'm needed." A pause. "What about you, Commander Cody? I don't think General Kenobi would ever let you go to another unit."
"Which is good, because I have no desire to go to any other unit," Cody stated. "But we all have our duty, and we're called to fulfill it, no matter where it sends us."
"Very philosophical," 7567 ribbed.
Cody turned a droll eye on him. "As if you would know philosophy."
"Look, there's the lieutenant. And Commander Cody." CT-9090 had been watching the steady flow of people coming through the entrance on the far side of the room, across the expanse of a large dance floor that was surrounded by tables on three sides and a stage on the fourth, upon which a 20-piece band was playing a sort of music 9090 had never heard before, but which he was coming to like very much. Beyond the tables framing the dance floor the room spread out into three slightly elevated and very large restaurant-lounge wings, with stunningly appointed bars built into each one. It was ordered in such a manner that every table, no matter how far away, still had a view of the stage and the dance floor.
And nearly every table and every chair at the bar was full.
"That looks like Commander Wolffe with them. And CT-5869 and Captain Snap," CT-8448 noted. "I'll go over and get them. See if you can find a few more chairs."
Just inside the entrance, Captain Snap took in the full house. "I wonder if we needed a reservation. This place is filled to the rafters."
"No wonder," Cody remarked. "It's beautiful. This, gentlemen, is the difference between a bar and a nightclub."
"Well, considering what we had to pay just to get in the door, it should be a step up from the lower levels of Coruscant," Wolffe growled. "A hundred steps up."
CT-5869 spoke up, and his voice was tinged with disbelieving mirth. "Is that 1004 out on the dance floor?"
Sure enough, it was. He was hard to miss, with his red double-striped coif. But even without the signature hair style, he would have been hard to miss anyway; for he was dancing with the sort of gusto and abandon that only a man as unself-conscious as he was could bring.
The music – an up-tempo instrumental number with a swingy feel to it – was clearly geared towards a certain style of dance, in which most of the patrons were engaging. CT-1004, however, had his own ideas of how to move to the beat, to the swells and riffs; and his enthusiasm was so engaging that it mattered little if his style was somewhat of a mismatch. Little matter indeed, for he was dancing with an undeniably gorgeous woman who appeared to be thrilled with him.
"He wasn't kidding about being a lady-killer," Captain Snap chirped with a smile. "That's some beautiful woman he's dancing with."
"If you call that dancing," Wolffe sniffed. "He looks like a Banokin Bush Monkey doing a mating dance."
"He looks like he's having fun," 5869 offered.
"He looks like an idiot." At this comment from Wolffe, Cody put a friendly hand on his fellow commander's shoulder. "Well, then, I'm sure at some point in the evening, you'll get your chance to show him – and the rest of us – how it's done."
"Hmph! Dancing is an activity that serves no purpose."
CT-7567 could not help but smile at the commander's enduring criticisms. "Still the voice of optimism and cheer."
Wolffe cast him an accusing eye. "Shut up," he grumped, but with a slight inflection of humor underpinning the demand.
"Hey, that's 8448," Captain Snap announced.
They moved forward to meet him.
"We've got a couple tables on the other side, over there, if you want to join us," 8448 announced.
As they walked around the dance floor, Cody inquired, "How many of you are here?"
"There's ten of us up front," 8448 replied. "I don't know if there's anyone else in the further back areas."
"Have you been here the whole time?"
"We checked out a couple places, and this one looked the most respectable," 8448 grinned.
"Respectable? It's stunning," Cody stated. "Seems like a high-end place." He smiled. "I'm surprised they let grunts like us in here."
"Well, we all look pretty impressive in our Class As," 8448 replied. "If they only knew the truth."
As they approached the tables, a chorus of greetings rose up. At least half the men were from Echo Squad, and as their squad mate approached, they tossed out calls of "The king has arrived!" and "Your majesty!"
CT-7567, rather than feeling any embarrassment, beamed with pleasure.
CT-5869 leaned in and quipped in Cody's ear, "You know he's loving every second of this."
"No doubt about it," Cody grinned. "Vive diu rex."
CT-5869 looked askance at him. "What?"
"Long live the king," Cody replied.
"What language is that?"
"Latix Basic. It's a ceremonial language used on Quanar Four," came the reply. "The 212th spent a few weeks there at the start of the war attempting diplomatic negotiations to use the planet as a staging area for the outer rim. The planetary leader was King Sulcat. Or, as the Quana would say, 'Se-Sulcat Rex.' Rex is their word for king."
CT-5869 nodded. "Well, he certainly acts like a king."
Cody chuckled. "He does, at that. And I'd say he has his share of devoted supporters."
"You can count me among them," 5869 stated. "He's a great officer."
"I agree."
"And Rex has a nice ring to it."
"Oh, he'd definitely prefer it to Blondie." Cody smiled at his thoughts. "Though King would probably suit him just fine."
"Rex is better."
"Then let's make it stick."
At that moment, CT-7567's voice cut across the others in incredulous shock. "That's 5052 out there! No, I don't believe it. He's dancing. Dancing! I must be hallucinating."
"He's been dancing all night," CT-9090 pointed out. "And he's pretty good at it."
"He actually looks happy," 7567 blurted out, at which Cody placed a delicate elbow in his side to indicate a degree of discretion was appropriate.
The lieutenant took the hint.
"You gonna get out there?" CT-5869 asked him.
CT-7567 made a face as if the very idea was ridiculous.
"I'm just asking," 5869 said with contrived sheepishness.
"What about you? Maybe I'll go out there after you've shown me you can do it," 7567 prompted.
It was not a very smart thing for him to do.
"That sounds like a challenge. I know you like to make bets, so—"
The lieutenant shook his head with a laugh. "I already almost lost my shirt in the bet with Crimson Squad. I hardly need to skim the surface again. I can't afford to lose a bet—"
"But we're not betting credits in this one," 5869 persisted. "If I get out there, you'll get out there, too."
In an attempt to deflect, 7567 joked, "I'm not dancing with you."
"Nice try, Brother. I don't care who you dance with, as long as you stay out there for one song."
"Why do I feel like I've lost this bet before I've even made it?" 7567 wondered aloud as he shook hands on it.
Cody crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe because this guy is a member of the Coruscant Guard and has probably been to more balls than you'll ever see in your whole life."
CT-7567 was dumbfounded. And amazed at his own shortsightedness. How could that fact have not occurred to him? He knew 5869 was in the CG. The idea that he had likely pulled duty at many a social function only stood to reason.
And 7567 completely overlooked that. He opened his mouth to attempt a withdrawal of the challenge, but CT-5869 shook his head with a smile.
"I'll at least let you get a drink or two in you before I win this bet and demand payment," 5869 said with great self-satisfaction before turning to find a seat at the table.
CT-7567 sighed as he turned to face Cody. "How did I let him trick me into this?"
"He works with diplomats," Cody replied. "I think he has all kinds of ways to get people to do what he wants without them realizing it."
Within five minutes of entering the club, CT-7567 came to several realizations.
The first was that he and his brothers were apparently a hot commodity. The great clone army was well-received on Myotta – or in this city, at least. The club's staff served them eagerly and with great attentiveness. Its patrons were friendly and welcoming. And the women were enchanted with them. A clone would not have to sit out a single dance unless he so desired, so numerous were the offers.
The second was that, in some strange and puzzling way, his brothers were more at ease in this setting than he was. They socialized easily. It was clear that they knew better than he did how to relax, and they were clearly intent on enjoying their night out. On the other hand, he himself was not completely without the means to take pleasure in such an evening. Yes, his uncompromising vigilance might make him scan the room for possible trouble spots, accessible egresses, and any means of self-defense; but he was also perfectly capable of noticing the many attractive women, appreciating the taste of the local spirits, and finding much humor—and even admiration—in his brothers' dancing skills.
Which led to the third realization: the fact that Commander Cody was a very skilled dancer and an even more accomplished Najete Moulu, Mando'a for Burrow Fox, a predator known for its ability to charm its way into the prey's den. Not that Cody was in any way predatory in that sense; the allegory came only from the Moulu's undeniable ability to gain acceptance through a certain amorphous allure.
That was Cody inside and out, as far as his presence in the club went. He'd sat down at table, consumed maybe two sips of the locally named Fire Water, and then, without a word, rose from his seat, headed over to a table of very beautiful women, and a moment later, was on the dance floor, dropping the jaws of his fellow trainees.
Cody was superb. Fluid and elegant, he moved with a grace not normally associated with any member of the clone army. He had perfected the agreeable smile and a somewhat coarse version of the refined sophisticated demeanor of the non-clone officer class. He was courteous and just suave enough to linger on the edge of flirtation, yet without ever crossing the line into outright seduction.
CT-7567 was impressed, and now he was more sure than ever that a Jedi must, in fact, rub off on his clone officer. He could easily imagine—without ever having met General Kenobi—that this must be an almost perfect reflection of the Jedi Master's character and persuasive talent.
Of course, there were other cases that seemed to throw that theory into tailspins.
Case in point: CT-1004.
True, he might only be a lieutenant, but his unit—the 7068th Military Police—was a part of the very prestigious 41st Elite Corps, commanded by Jedi General Luminara Unduli. Perhaps it was the intervention of several echelons between 1004 and General Unduli that had explained the reason the clone officer was nothing like the Jedi Master; for General Unduli had a reputation for being very strict, very focused, and quite humorless. CT-1004 on the other hand . . . well, there were hardly words to describe his level of excitement. It was as if a joyful concupiscence followed him wherever he went, driving him to push the limits of fun and inhibition. Yet, he was extremely devoted, and as a soldier, unabashedly aligned with the proper observance of rules.
But there were no rules on the dance floor, and CT-1004 was absolutely determined to make a spectacle of himself, so it seemed. But he was a pleasing spectacle, and no one could find fault with him.
As he made his way back to the table, one lovely already on his arm, and two more joining along the way, there was no mistaking that he was, in fact, every bit the ladies' man he had envisioned himself to be. Seeing his former pod-mate, his smile grew even wider.
"Your Highness, I'm glad you decided to join us," he beamed, finding a seat as his harem arrayed themselves in the chairs around him. It was almost obscene how they hovered, but 1004 did not appear to mind in the least.
CT-7567 gave a dry grin. "Is everyone calling me that now?"
"Your squad mates have been using it all night," 1004 replied. "It's perfect, don't you think? Come on, you've always acted like a king. You're always in charge wherever you go—"
"Even when he's not in charge, he's in charge," CT-390 teased.
"That's a good thing," 1004 went on. "It's who you've always been, since we were batch-kits. You like to take the lead. You like power. Nothing wrong with that." He chuckled. "You make a good king."
"King Rex." This came from CT-5869. "Or, better yet, since Rex means king . . . just Rex."
Cody, who had just returned from the dance floor, nodded approvingly. "There couldn't be a better fit."
CT-7567 rather liked the sound of that, but to show too ready an agreement would not be in line with his character. After all, as a king, he would certainly not allow anyone to dictate to him what his name should be.
"Hold on a minute, how do you get Rex from King?" he demanded.
"Latix," Cody replied. "The ceremonial language of Quanar Four. Rex means king. And Lieutenant King just doesn't sound good. Lieutenant Rex does."
CT-7567 considered for a long moment.
"Or maybe you'd prefer if we stuck with Blondie?" CT-2025 put forth.
"Or King Blondie?" This from 5869.
"Fek and all, no." It was one of the few times 7567 had ever uttered a swear word. But then an accepting smile crept slowly into his features. "Rex sounds pretty good. Yes . . . yes, I think I like that."
"Good," Cody said with a stout nod. "But, uh, just make sure you stay on my good side, because I still have Blondie tucked away where I can make use of it any time I want." He swung an arm over his roommate's shoulders. "And you know I can pull a crowd."
CT-7567—Rex—looked sidelong at him; and judging from his expression, he decided that idle threats might not be Cody's specialty, but he could throw one when the moment was suitable. He replied with a close approximation of sweetness. "I won't tempt you."
"See to it you don't."
"Look, we've got to head for the port in less than an hour, and you still haven't done anything but sit here nursing that one drink—"
"This is my second," the newly christened Lieutenant Rex replied. "Stuff is god-awful."
CT-1004 ignored him and continued to press. "How can you sit here with all these beautiful women and not get out there at least once? They've been asking you all night, and you just sit here."
"I'm perfectly happy to leave all the women to you, Brother," Rex said. "If I stood up, you might find yourself suddenly alone."
At this, Commander Wolffe, a couple seats away, let out a great sarcastic guffaw. "Hunh! I think you're glued to that chair because you can't dance at all."
Rex gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Would that surprise you? I've never danced in my life."
"Well, neither had I, but I got out there," Wolffe shot back.
"And looked pretty ridiculous, I might add," Rex rejoined.
"At least, I was out there, unlike some blowhards," Wolffe huffed.
The commander continued to make some kind of reply, but Rex was looking down at the far end of the set of strung-together tables, the end where CT-5052 was sitting with a stunner in the next chair who was, for all intents and purposes, practically in 5052's chair. He seemed pleased to have the attentions of such a beautiful woman, although the propriety that reigned over the trainees ensured that he did nothing that would bring dishonor upon the group, and so he indulged her attentions and returned them with polite attention.
The woman was certainly the most beautiful Rex had seen that night.
"Leave him alone—he can't help it if he can't dance." This voice—that of CT-5869, drew his attention back to the conversation. "I mean, so what if he's the best at everything else? That doesn't mean he can feel a beat or keep rhythm. So what if he's the only clone in the entire GAR that can't master a simple swing step. This will just be one more bet he loses—"
CT-2025 joined in. "All those good looks just going to waste. I guess he dyed his hair blonde just for us—"
Rex stood up without a word. He strode down to the end of the tables, making a beeline for CT-5052's companion. The woman, clearly accustomed to being desired for her beauty and perhaps a bit vain about that fact, watched his approach with confidence and was ready to extend her hand in acceptance, when he walked right past her.
The brothers exchanged muted expressions of humor. CT-7567 never made things easy.
He walked up to the table behind them where a cluster of attractive women were seated. They, too, had been dancing most of the night; but they were not quite of the same exquisite beauty as the top-tier sirens that dominated the clubscape and had their pick of the patrons. These women, while easy on the eyes, were average – and as such, they actually seemed to be having a better time than the sultries who were constantly having to check their appearance in every reflective surface and against every other woman in the club.
It was to one of these women that Rex extended his hand mid-song. And as he led her out onto the dance floor without the least bit of self-consciousness, he felt as if every eye in the room was upon them. And perhaps they were.
His fellow clones waited in expectation of a paltry display, a humiliating attempt to prove that he was at least as skilled as his least-skilled brother in the art of dancing. They were ready to offer sardonic smiles, derisive commentary, and general hoot-calling in response to what they were sure was going to be a scene pathetic enough to bring the house down on CT-7567's smugness.
What they got instead left them speechless and awestruck – or deflated, as the case might be.
Rex had no sooner assumed the proper posture than he swept his partner away in a whirling, twirling rush of movement. So blithe was his manner that one would have guessed he'd been dancing his whole life. He went gracefully with the music, leading his partner with ease and a dichotic loose precision.
"Well, I'll be damned," CT-9090 breathed with a hint of disappointment. "He can out-dance us, too?"
"I wonder what it's like to be the best at everything," CT-390 smiled.
Standing nearby, Cody answered the question but quietly and only to CT-5869 at his side. "It's a long fall from perfection."
"Do you think he knows that?" 5869 asked, nodding towards Rex out on the dance floor.
"I'm not sure that he does," Cody replied. "When has he ever lost?"
"He lost to you."
"You might see that as a loss. I might see that as a loss. But 7567—Rex—I get the feeling he sees even his defeats as victories on some level."
"Well, he's a good marker for the rest of us," 5869 decided. "And sort of a—a different marker from you, Commander. You're both like two ends of the same spectrum."
At this, Cody laughed. "I'd hate to know what the ends of that spectrum are."
CT-5869 was not hesitant about answering. "You're the more reasoned, methodical end. The one that plans and weighs outcomes. CT-75—Rex—he's more the call-it-as-I-see-it end, the type that takes action first and worries about the consequences later."
And even though these observations were spoken in a light manner, Cody absorbed their meanings.
"Too careful versus too wild," he mused, but aloud he opined, "And somewhere in the middle is the good officer."
"Neh," 5869 deferred. "There are a lot of good officers all along the spectrum. I think what you'd find in the middle would be the perfect officer. And we all know that doesn't exist."
Cody cocked his head in dubious concession, then added, "I think we've got something pretty close."
What surprised him most about that admission was that he meant it.
*Gempa = an animal with a very curvaceous figure
*Vive diu rex = Long Live the King in Latin.