Dear Reader, Thank you to my reviewers, Ms CT-782, Christina TM, The Unnamed Guest, and Jinjaneko. Much appreciated. This is a very long chapter (and I even put the last part in the next chapter, because it was just too long!). Okay, full disclosure (and this will sound funny): I was listening to Katy Perry's "Hot and Cold" many years ago and I just liked the idea of "changes mind", "scaredy cat", and "critical." So I consciously adapted those traits to Cody, Bly, and Wolffe through this entire ARC backstory - all in anticipation of this chapter. The entire race has that song playing in the background in my head. Eh, I guess stranger things have happened! I hope you enjoy. CS
Chapter 69 One Step Too Far
"Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."
T.S. Eliot
"You didn't tell anyone you could dance," Cody pointed out on the way back to the port. "You said you'd never done it before."
"That was the truth," Rex replied. "I'd never danced a step before, but come on . . . how difficult could it be? All I had to do was watch the rest of you all night—well, okay, maybe not 1004, but the rest of you—and I was able to pick it up right away."
Cody smirked. "You pick this up right away, but you need an intervention to learn how to manually calculate hyperspace jumps. That doesn't make any sense."
"Predictably unpredictable, remember?" Rex poked.
"Using my own words against me, huh?" the commander grinned. "Well, for a second there, I thought you were going to snatch 5052's, uh, little friend and then the flames would have ignited."
"I wouldn't do something like that," the lieutenant replied. "We may not like each other, but that doesn't mean I want to humiliate him."
"Of course not."
"You don't believe me?"
They entered the port through a pair of giant magnetic doors and headed for the dock where their ship was waiting to take them back to the complex.
"Oh, I believe that what's you believe of yourself," Cody said. "I'm just not sure I believe it of you."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I think you believe yourself to be incapable of doing something rotten," Cody explained. "You bend the rules, but you don't mean to cheat, per se. You're relentless against your opponents, but you don't mean to actually hurt or embarrass anyone. You love to show off but never with the intention of belittling someone else's abilities." A pause. "At least, that's how you see yourself."
"You're talking as if you believe I do those things with malicious intent," Rex challenged.
"No, not malicious," Cody corrected. "But I do think you want to win at all costs and in everything you do. Even things that aren't a contest, you turn into one. And you're willing to play dirty to come out on top. Don't even try to deny it. I've seen it in every exercise."
"Well, that mindset has done well by me so far."
"So far, yes." They came to the ship and got onboard. "But if you're not careful, you may end up going one step too far one day."
"And if that happens, I'll deal with it. I have enough of the Jai'Galaar in me to see when trouble's coming, and enough Ben'ho-er that I always land on my feet," Rex replied.
Cody had never met anyone so likably arrogant. "What you lack is the modesty of a Scinchi Doe."
"That's because modesty has no place in the life of a clone."
Cody shook his head. "You're impossible."
And yet, he could not stop the image of General Skywalker from parading across his thoughts, and he could almost hear the general saying, "Of course, modesty has no place in the life of a clone!"
Certainly not in the lives of General Skywalker's clones.
The Tactical Air Navigation System race – or TACAN Snatch, as it was more commonly known – was one of the final large-scale exercises of ARC training, with only Escape and Evasion and Unaided Stellar Navigation to follow.
It involved four squads at a time, racing against each other in an effort to collect TACAN beacons—navigational transmitters meant to aid in aerial and aerospace navigation. Each team had its own separate set of six beacons to collect, and each beacon was accompanied by a clue and calculations to the next beacon. Some beacons were collocated with the other squads' beacons, and if a squad accidently took another team's beacon, they were automatically disqualified and would have to successfully pass a makeup TACAN exercise before graduating.
Of course, each beacon came with its own set of obstacles to overcome, and so it was not simply a matter of which team was the fastest. A lot of skills would be put to the test, not the least of which was the squad leadership.
And as fate—or more accurately, cadre planning—would have it, the leaders for the first race could not have been better matched. Commander Cody would lead Bravo Squad. CT-5052, Crimson Squad. Rex, Echo Squad. And Wolffe, Havoc Squad.
Now, this was going to be one hell of a race; and needless to say, Rex was already devising ways to make sure his own team crossed the finish line first.
The night before the race, he gathered Echo Squad in their assigned planning room.
An image of the first beacon location had been provided, though not the coordinates; and all squads had their first beacon at this location. It was a stone temple, built in a pyramid shape with square-cut rocks the sizes of AT-AT cockpits piled up in a stair-step fashion. There were four ancient landing pads (or at least they were meant to appear ancient), one on each side; and each team had its assigned landing pad. The top of the pyramid had a square opening, roughly two meters across.
"I have a feeling, when we get the schematics tomorrow, that we're going to see that this opening leads right into the heart of the place," Rex surmised. "And it's probably a much quicker route to our goal than going in through the landing pads."
"What do you have in mind?" CT-2025 asked.
"I think we should have a plan to go in from on top," he replied. "We'll make plans to come in from the landing pads, too; but in case I'm right, I want to be ready to come through here. We can fine-tune everything once we see what we've got tomorrow." A pause. "But one thing we can definitely do tonight . . . "
They all raised curious, waiting gazes towards him.
"We can make our gunship go fast."
CT-5576 gave a fatalistic chuckle. "They can only manage so much speed."
Rex turned his eyes to CT-390. "That's where you and me come in. Between the two of us, we have enough know-how to turn a plow horse into a race horse."
"I'm all for it," 390 beamed with anticipation. "But, uh, you do realize we're talking about a gunship here, right? Not a jetpack."
"It's just a bigger version of the same thing," Rex quipped.
CT-390 shook his head and blew out his breath. "Huuu, you have a simple mind."
"I'm a simple man," Rex replied. Then to CT-390 only, "Okay, meet me back here at 1100 hours and we'll get to work. The rest of you will meet back here tomorrow morning at 0500 so we can go over our strategy before breakfast."
The order was acknowledged.
"Squad leaders! Front and center!" Major Tides shouted.
The four squad leaders all came forward to a marked circle on the tarmac just outside the hangar doors, and beyond that stood the four gunships. But once they got there, they were made to wait as Major Tides conferred with several of the controllers for the exercise. Given that this was not a range but a real-world test, the degree of control and safeguard was significantly higher. One of the controllers seemed to have some concern about weather conditions at one of the locations; another controller was asking for another fifteen minutes before starting in order to switch out a faulty beacon.
As the four squad leaders waited, Commander Wolffe looked with baleful eyes to Rex, whom he still referred to as CT-7567 or by his rank. "It would be nice if you didn't cheat this time around, Lieutenant."
CT-5052 made a scoffing sound, as if the idea of Rex playing by the rules was, in and of itself, an impossibility.
True to form, Rex met the insult with his own non-subtlety.
"Why would I need to cheat? Look what I'm up against." Nodding towards Cody, he said, "You change your mind more than the wind changes direction." To CT-5052, "You're too afraid of failure to take any risks whatsoever." Then, ending with Commander Wolffe, he sneered, "And you're so busy finding fault and criticizing everyone that you don't pay any attention to your own failings."
He had spoken nothing other than the truth—or his estimation of the truth—hoping that his inflection—a sort of challenging, I-dare-you provocation—would generate the very spirit of competition upon which he thrived. He certainly hadn't meant to offend in any serious capacity. No, the whole thing was the kind of braggadocio that any normal male engaged in. Indeed, Cody and Wolffe both seemed to take it that way. CT-5052, on the other hand, merely glared at him then looked away.
Wolffe rolled his eyes. "Should we enumerate your litany of shortcomings?"
Cody grinned. "Imagine what it's like to live with him."
"You have my sympathies."
Major Tides approached.
"So, gentlemen, let's go over the rules." He looked at Rex in the manner of a man who knows he's about to impart a detail of great joy. "There are no rules. You collect your TACAN beacons and the first team back wins."
"No rules?" Rex asked, looking for confirmation that he'd truly heard what he thought he'd heard.
"We expect you to exercise reason, Lieutenant," Tides replied. "Be innovative. Be creative. But don't go crazy."
"Too late," 5052 muttered under his breath.
"Does the squad have to finish as a whole?" Rex asked. "If we lose one or two on the way, will we be disqualified?"
Tides looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze. "Are you planning to sacrifice your men in pursuit of victory?"
"No," came the unabashed response. "But if there really are no rules, I don't want to find out at the end that, in fact, there really were rules. Do we all have to finish?"
"The goal is to get the TACAN beacons to the finish line. Does that answer your question?" Tides asked.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Then you can bring your squads to the ready line and wait for the start signal."
As they headed back to the hangar where their squads were waiting, Rex slapped Cody on the shoulder. "No hard feelings when you cross the finish line behind me?"
"Not even when I cross it ahead of you," Cody pushed back.
Rex chuckled. "No, seriously. No matter what happens, you won't, uh, you won't hold it against me, right?"
Now the commander's suspicion went up several notches. "What have you got up your sleeve?"
"Just the desire to win. And the means to do so." And then, for a fleeting moment, a strange sincerity came through in his voice. "I want to be the best."
"As do we all."
"But I have to be. That's the only way I'm going to get what I want."
Cody shot him a questioning look, but it was too late. It was time to part ways as they returned to their squads. But before heading for his own ship, Cody warned, "Just don't do anything crazy."
He mightaswell having been talking to the wind.
The start gun fired its red flare.
The squads bolted across the hanger onto the tarmac and to the waiting gunships.
In Echo Squad, it has been predetermined the night before that Shinie 9218—the best pilot among them—would take the helm. CT-1448 slipped into the seat behind him as co-pilot.
CT-390 and CT-8448—the latter burdened with a cloth-wrapped bundle—went immediately into the drive room (little more than the size of a large closet) in the rear of the ship and set to work uncoupling static dampeners, ion regulators, and balance ratios. They unhooked every bit of propulsion machinery just short of what was necessary to get the big, lumbering bird off the ground.
On the troop deck, CT-9090, CT-8462, and CT-5576 began fixing rappelling lines and harnesses. CT-2025 helped them get kitted up, checking their lines and fastenings.
CT-1550 quickly deciphered the given coordinates and fed them into the navi-computer.
And lastly, Rex stood at the comm panel from where he would direct this brilliant victory.
"Take her up easy, boys," he commanded. "You'll only have partial power until the compressor is installed."
"Roger that, L.T.," 9218 acknowledged, using the slang initials for lieutenant. "Just tell us when we can hit it."
"Oh, you'll know, because your gauges will be off the chart," Rex grinned beneath his helmet.
"The other squads are well off, Sir," CT-1448 added. "Do you think we'll be able to catch up with them?"
It tickled Rex how these Shinies deferred to his rank. He was used to it back in the 729th. It felt good to hear that deference again, even if he could not quite explain why.
"No doubt," he replied. "Just keep them in sight. That's all we need to do for now."
"How long til we make the switch?" CT-2025 asked from the troop deck.
Rex spoke into his helmet comm over the noise of the bay. "390, how much more time?"
"Thirty seconds."
"Good work, Smoke."
Smoke? Another nickname given on the spur of the moment.
"We'll say it's good work if it doesn't blow us to kingdom come," 8448 quipped, and none of the others were sure if he was joking or not.
Thirty seconds later, Smoke spoke to the cockpit. "Cut engines on my mark."
"Copy."
"Three-two-one, mark!"
The warhorse fell silent except for the sound of the air zipping by outside. Less than three seconds later, Smoke gave a thumbs up.
"Start 'er up!" Rex ordered.
In the dual cockpit above, CT-9218 re-engaged the engines; then both he and CT-1448 let out gasps of surprise.
"Flow through main busses one and two are off the charts!" 1448 exclaimed. "The props numbers are four times higher than normal! It worked! The fekking booster worked!"
Rex allowed himself a self-congratulatory, "I knew it would. Now, let's put it to use. Take her up to fifty percent. That should be enough for us to blow past everyone."
"Accelerating—woah!" As CT-9218 moved the power lever forward ever so slightly, he—and everyone else aboard the gunship—were caught by complete surprise at the abrupt and dramatic increase in speed. Down on the troop deck, the men were tossed into the rear wall.
"Hey! Hey! You have to be easy up there!" Rex shouted through his helmet comm. "You're dealing with a lot more power than usual! Easy does it!"
"Sorry 'bout that, L.T.," 9218 apologized, but everyone could hear the humor in his voice. "I wasn't expecting it to be so sensitive."
"Well, remember it next time."
CT-2025, in the course of picking himself up off the floor, asked bluntly, "Is this gunship designed to handle this kind of speed?"
"I think she can handle it," Rex replied. "Just not over any prolonged period of time. We want to avoid too much stress on the structural integrity."
"And exactly how long is a prolonged period of time?" 2025 pressed.
"Hey, she's a warship, right? She's built to take a beating. Now, stop worrying about that and make sure these guys are ready to drop. We won't have—"
"We're passing the other squads, L.T.," 1448 reported from the rear cockpit.
"Good, keep the pressure on. We need to put as much distance between us and them as possible. ETA to the first beacon?"
"At this speed . . . just over two minutes," 1448 replied.
"Fantastic. Be ready on the CB turrets," Rex instructed, referring to the four composite-beam pinpoint laser turrets that formed one small part of the gunship's impressive offensive weaponry. "9218, I want to do this in one sweep around the perimeter. Nothing fancy, flyboy."
"You got it, Sir!"
Rex turned to the three men in their rappelling gear. "You know where we're going?" It was really a rhetorical question, as he began to step into his own harness with 2025's assistance.
"We studied the schematics inside and out," 5576 replied.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather I go with them and you stay here?" 2025 asked. "You're the squad leader."
"And I'm going to lead them into that temple and find the beacon," Rex said as a confirmation. "Besides, there's going to be a lot of angry brothers coming up right behind us. I need someone shipside just in case any . . . unpleasantness arises."
"Don't you think they might have also considered going in through the top?"
Here, Rex's broad and self-assured smile was almost perceivable although obscured by his bucket. "Those three? Not a chance."
"You sound very confident. Are you sure you're not selling them short?"
"It's not a question of selling them short," Rex replied. "Kripes, Cody will always be the best of the best. I can't hope to out-think him. But the one thing we can do is play to our strengths and exploit their weaknesses. And one of those weaknesses is that not one of them possesses creative thinking."
"Uh, you're saying this about a man who communicates with wolves? That seems pretty creative to me," 2025 challenged.
From the cockpit, CT-1448 announced, "I have a visual on the temple."
"Brace yourselves," 9218 cautioned. "Coming in for my run."
Rex punched the side panel and the doors on one side of the ship slid open. He wanted to see this.
A decent pilot himself, Rex could appreciate the fact that there were many brothers with greater piloting skills than his own. And while he might not have expected to find a Shinie with bragging rights, he certainly was about to find out that CT-9218 had earned his reputation as one of the finest cadet pilots to come out of this last graduating class.
He had absolutely no fear of piloting a ship that had been jerry-rigged to perform well beyond its specifications. His competitive spirit fell in perfect line with his current squad leader, and he was more than happy to push the boundaries in an effort to show what he could do.
He drew the speeding ship into a wide, sweeping banking movement, slowing down and rotating into a circular pattern around the temple's perimeter. He did not need to be told how fast to go or what altitude to maintain. He could sense intuitively what was necessary for his squad leader's plan to work.
"Open fire," Rex commanded with a calm that was in stark contrast to the barrage that followed.
From the rear cockpit, CT-1448 began firing the remote CB lasers from the turrets located in front of the ship, just below the cockpit. A dozen well-aimed shots per platform turned each of the landing pads into rubble. Even if the other squads chose not to land their gunships, they would have a hard time climbing over the debris.
"Beautiful!" Rex complimented his two-man flight crew. "You guys are my heroes! Now, take us up top."
"Copy that." CT-9218 brought the gunship to hover over the opening.
"Now it's our turn," the lieutenant said with gusto. "Let's do this."
"Commander! Echo Squad just—"
"I see it," Cody grimaced, then, although speaking aloud, he was addressing only himself. "He really does plan to play dirty." A pause. "No rules suits him perfectly."
"Commander, do you want us to land?" This was from CT-8383, by profession a pilot, and now serving as such for this exercise.
"Can you still bring her down safely?" Cody inquired.
"I can't land her on the pads, but I can get low enough for disembarkation," 8383 replied.
"Do it."
"You don't want to go in the top like Echo did?" Captain Snap asked.
"And who's going to push their gunship from its place over that opening? They're guarding that thing like a Uquilo guards its nest. They won't relinquish that position without a fight, and we don't have time for a fight," Cody replied.
"We, uh . . . we could take them out," Snap offered with reluctant curiosity. "They've already shown that they're willing to use weapons to destroy the landing pads. We could disable their ship."
Cody was pragmatic. "Firing on a landing pad is one thing. Firing on a ship with a live crew is something else."
"I'm sure the cadre have fail safes built in," Snap opined. "And we're not trying to hurt them, just to take their ship out of action."
"I'd rather beat them across the finish line," Cody stated.
"That might be hard to do with the way CT-7567 plays," CT-0206 pointed out. "He blew up our landing pad. We've seen that he's got something on board that ship that took them from last place to first place in seconds. He's going to use every trick in the book."
"So, I'd like to beat him fair-and-square," Cody persisted. "We're not going to do anything but run our race. Get ready to disembark."
"That little prick," Commander Wolffe growled. "I should have known he'd do something like this. He'd cheat his way into heaven, if he could."
"Well, the major did say there were no rules," CT-309 reminded him.
"He certainly did." Wolffe let the words fall ominously into the confined space of the gunship. "Take her down wherever you can find a drop-off spot." He turned to CT-7106 and CT-8713. "Load some spring netting."
The two Shinies went to the equipment locker, and CT-309 asked inquisitively but with a degree of expectation. "Spring netting? Going hunting, Sir?"
Wolffe replied in clipped tones. "Big game hunting."
"Fekking bastard," CT-5052 cursed. "I knew he was going to pull this kind of osik."
"What do you want to do, Lieutenant?" CT-1080-1 asked.
CT-5052 spoke to CT-1944 in the cockpit. "Find a place to drop us off."
Within seconds, 1944 had them down for disembarkation. CT-5052, as he stood in the doorway and just before jumping down to the ruined pad below, gave a parting command. "Now go up there and destroy the top of the pyramid. They may have gone in that way, but I don't want them coming out that way. Little obstacle in the rat maze."
"Echo's ship is hovering nearby, Lieutenant," 1944 pointed out. "If we blow the top, debris could hit them."
"No rules, remember? If they take a little damage, consider it payback for taking out our landing pad," 5052 replied.
"Roger that."
"The coordinates take us straight down this shaft about seventy meters," CT-9090 said as he and the rest of the landing team stood at the mouth of a fairly wide opening that led down into blackness. "We've got two rappelling cables. Who do you want to send down?"
CT-7567 replied, "I'll go down with 8462. You two wait here for us."
They fixed cables and fired into the walls for anchoring. It was a quick trip to the bottom. In the light of their headlamps, they made out a series of ancient markings on the walls—although Rex was starting to believe that this entire construct was a replica, meant to look ancient—and all around them, a number of passageways led off into the bowels of the structure.
"We're still above the beacon, L.T.," 8462 stated, looking at his scanner. "I show it being roughly twelve meters below us. We have to find a way to go down."
"Does the schematic show any more shafts leading to the lower levels?"
CT-8462 made some adjustments to the image. "Yes, Sir. There are several. This is the nearest one, here, about a hundred meters this way."
"Then let's go."
As they headed down one of the passageways, Rex allowed his focus for one moment to shift from the task at hand to his own self-congratulatory musings on having chosen CT-8462 for this part of the mission.
CT-8462 was a serious clone, more so than most Shinies—and most Shinies were very serious. He was quiet and reserved. But what Rex had earlier mistaken for timidity, he now recognized as a well-honed ability to listen and observe. 8462 was not one of those men who felt the need to be noticed. He had no interest in standing out—his brown eyes already made him an anomaly among his brothers; he did not care to add to his uniqueness. He only wanted to be useful and contributing in the manner of a good soldier.
In many ways, he reminded Rex of an inexperienced version of Cody. And this made Rex like him very much.
Coming to the shaft, they found it narrow and without a ladder.
"Our cables are back at the other location," Rex said, "But this looks narrow enough that we can wedge down it."
"After you, L.T.," 8462 said with a smile in his voice. "I know you always like to go first."
CT-9218, following in the style of any good pilot, foreswore the use of any of the automated piloting systems afforded by the gunship. All the brilliant electronic systems manufactured for the Rothana Heavy Engineering shipyards for use in their spacecraft often fell by the wayside when a clone pilot sat in the chair.
Clone pilots were notorious for their self-assuredness when it came to trusting their own skills and wits over those of a computer – even such advanced computers as droids. CT-9218 was no exception. As he waited for the return of his landing team, he entertained himself by trying to keep the gunship in an exact location, hovering over the top of the opening. Anything more than a .01 azimuth variance or a .5 degree rotation shift was unacceptable. Those were the limits for computer-aided flying. And he was a damned sight better than any computer.
"Eighteen." This was CT-1448's shortened version of his pilot's name. "That's Crimson's ship coming up. What are they—holy krebs!"
As he had spoken, the opposing ship had fired off a sustained burst from their forward CB lasers, obliterating the top of the pyramid, sending stone and mud-mortar flying in all directions and tumbling down into the opening.
CT-9218 slammed his hand forward on the repulsor thrust, lifting the ship just enough to avoid the larger pieces of debris. A few small chunks of rock struck the underbelly of the larty—the affectionate name given to the gunships—but no serious damage was done.
"What the hell was that?!" CT-390 shouted into his helmet from the troop deck.
"Crimson just took out the top of the pyramid!" 1448 replied. "Lieutenant, are you hearing this?"
Rex was halfway down the shaft, his back pressed against one wall, his feet bracing against the opposite one. Above him, CT-8462 was roughly a quarter the way down. A violent vibration shook the entire place, dislodging both men and sending them tumbling to the bottom. Rex had not far to fall; and even with CT-8462 landing squarely on top of him, his armor was protection enough that all he really suffered was having the wind knocked out of him for a few seconds.
"What the hell was that?" 8462 shouted at nearly the same time that CT-390 was asking the same question.
And given that all of Echo Squad was on the same frequency, they all heard 1448's answer and subsequent inquiry.
Rex sat up and gulped in a few breaths. "Yes, I'm hearing it. What do you mean, they took out the top of the pyramid?"
"They fired cannons and destroyed it," 1448 replied.
"Is the rest of the squad safe?"
Here, CT-390 replied, "We're okay, L.T."
CT-9090, back at the top of the first shaft, responded, "We took some debris, but we're okay. I'm afraid the shaft above us is completely blocked."
"The ship's taken some very minor damage," CT-9218 added. "But nothing that will slow us down. But you won't be able to come back the way you went in. From what we can see, the whole thing is caved in now."
"Don't worry about us," Rex replied. "We'll find another way out and relay it to you once we get there. In the meantime, keep an eye on Crimson—and the other squads. Looks like I've redefined the meaning of no rules."
"You've certainly set a precedent." This from CT-9090 back at the first shaft. "Do you still want us to wait here?"
"Check your copy of the schematic for exits on your level and any levels between you and the bottom of that shaft. Report back what you find. We're close to the beacon. We're pressing on." A pause. "And CT-9218 . . . if threatened, return fire. Take whatever actions are necessary."
"Roger that."
At the sound of an explosion, Cody jerked his head around towards the pyramid. Having dropped off his landing team headed by Captain Snap, he had ordered his gunship to set down at the edge of the jungle surrounding the structure.
"What the—" He moved to the open side door and watched the top of the pyramid looking like an erupting volcano. From his vantage point, he could not see Crimson Squad's ship on the other side of the smoldering peak. Immediately, he spoke into his helmet comm. "Snap! Are you alright?"
"We're fine," came the swift reply. "Just felt a bit of a rumble. What was that?"
"The top of the pyramid looks like it's been blown to pieces," Cody replied.
"Well, it didn't have much impact here," Snap reiterated. "Just some ground shaking."
"Either way, we don't know if it was explosives or a trap or something else, so exercise caution," Cody warned. "The whole place could be booby-trapped." Then, to CT-8383. "Let's take her up and get a look at the top."
Wolffe knew, from his experience with tactics, that a small precision team usually made better time and had greater success with pinpoint missions than larger contingents.
As such, he took only Shinies 7106 and 8713 with him into the pyramid.
He liked Shinies because they tended not to ask questions, not to buck authority, but rather to do as they were ordered with no pushback, no discussion, and no balking. Shinies were always eager to prove their abilities and their worth. Wolffe liked those traits; they were easier to work with than the guys with some experience under their belts – especially the jarhead types that formed that combat branch of General Plo Koon's Division. The very kind of men Wolffe desired so much to be in command of, despite their gruff and unwieldy character. It never struck the commander as ironic that the very troops he wanted to lead were the same troops of whom he had such derisive thoughts. And even more over, it never occurred to him that the reason for his derision was precisely due to his bitterness over not being a part of them, not being a member of that brotherhood of combat arms.
Well, here with these Shinies, he could be in charge in a tactical environment instead of just at the planning table.
Before they had even entered the pyramid, he had plotted the entire route through the pyramid that would lead to their beacon. Should any obstacles arise, he developed alternate routes. He was in no hurry to get inside and find his team like rats in a maze, running all directions blind. He was methodical, and this time, it paid off.
He and his team entered the center chamber of the pyramid and discovered that all four beacons were there. For a fleeting moment, he considered hiding Echo Company's beacon, but he took seriously the major's warning that any squad that tampered or made off with another squad's beacon would be disqualified. Besides, he had his own surprise revenge that awaited Echo Squad.
Taking Havoc's beacon, he handed it to CT-7106. "Get this back to the ship and start decoding the clue to the next beacon. Give me this." He traded his weapon for 7106's net-loaded blaster. "Hurry. I want this whole thing deciphered by the time we get back."
"You got it, Commander."
Wolffe turned to CT-8713. "We're going to hide behind that sarcophagus and wait." He removed his helmet for a breath of unfiltered air, as it somehow made him feel more alive. "The beauty of it is that with the beacons all located in the same place, we don't even have to go hunting. The prey will come to us."
CT-8713 appreciated his squad leader's way of thinking. "I don't imagine he'll be expecting this."
"That's the plan."
"Looks like one of the other teams blew the top off," CT-7667 remarked.
"Yeah, but which one?" CT-1200 questioned. "I wouldn't be surprised if Echo did it. They've already shown what they're willing to do to win. Maybe they wanted to make sure none of the other squads used the same way in."
"It doesn't matter either way," Cody stated. "It was never a part of our plan, so it won't impact us."
"Unless it did damage inside that makes it harder to reach the TACAN," 7667 stated.
"Judging from the scanner, I don't see that it's interfering," Cody said. "Our route wasn't damaged or blocked that I can see. In fact, it looks like they're getting very close."
"Maybe we shouldn't hand out up here," 7667 suggested. "Someone might decide to take a crack at us."
"There might be some crazy guys out there, but none of them are that crazy," Cody said.
CT-7667 glanced at his mission commander. "You sure about that, Sir? I think at least one is crazy enough to try anything."
"I'm trusting prudence to prevail," Cody replied. Then to himself, he added, "For what my trust is worth."
Captain Snap grinned in satisfaction. Only one beacon of the four was gone. That meant only one team was ahead of his. A closer look revealed that Havoc Squad's beacon was the one already taken.
As he and his men retrieved their own beacon, his attention was drawn as another squad entered the chamber.
"What?! We're third?!"
Snap regarded the speaker just long enough to spare a jab. "I'll give Commander Cody your regards."
Rex chuckled. "I'll do it myself when we pass you on the next leg."
Snap, living up to his nickname, snapped his gloved fingers—not an easy task. "You should know by now, you can't beat Cody at anything. None of us can. That's why I'm glad I'm on his team." With that, he and his squad mates left the chamber with their beacon.
Rex leaped up onto the small stone dais where the beacons stood. "Oh – not possible! Havoc beat us here?! Good grief, how could Wolffe have managed that? The man has zero original thinking—"
"How's this for original?"
Rex and 8462 both whirled towards the voice . . .
. . . just in time to see Wolffe and one of his men firing their weapons. But it was not blaster bolts that were forthcoming. Instead, two pinion nets burst from the barrels.
So unexpected was this trick that neither Rex nor 8462 had time to react. The weight of the nets drove them to their hands and knees, and the pinions, not making contact with a solid surface into which to drive, instead curled around the net links, tightening the wrap.
"Let's see if you can find an original way to get out of this," Wolffe taunted. "You like to play dirty. You may have met your match." With that, he and CT-8713 departed. As soon as they were out in the passageway, 8713 spoke up with admiration.
"I'm impressed, Sir. DIdn't know you had it in you."
Wolffe grinned a wolfish grin behind his visor. "CT-7567 isn't the only one full of surprises."
"Damn—can—can you get free?" Rex grimaced, struggling to unravel the netting.
"I'm trying," 8462 replied. "I can get my deece free. I'll try putting it on continuous and cutting away some of this osik."
"Good idea," Rex nodded. "Just don't hit me while you're cutting."
Several seconds later, 8462 was carefully shearing through the netting, and Rex was relaying their predicament to the rest of the squad.
"We're here in the beacon chamber, and we're trapped under coil webbing—Havoc Squad ambushed us," he reported. "We're cutting our way out, but it's taking time."
"Do you want us to come help you, Lieutenant?" CT-9090 asked. "We have to find another way out anyway. We can meet you in the chamber and all go out from there."
"Copy that," Rex replied. "Make it fast." The sound of hasty footsteps made him look up, and his breath trailed out of him in a moment of embarrassment.
CT-5052 actually halted in his tracks for a couple seconds as he took in the sight before him. He nodded to one of his squad mates to retrieve the beacon as he took several steps towards the two enmeshed men on the ground.
"This is just too good to be true," he said coolly. "Looks like I'm not the only one who wants to see you fail."
Rex was flippant. "This is just a little delay."
CT-5052 grunted dismissively. He'd had his gloat, and now there was no reason to hang around other than to savor the moment. But the goal was to win the race. "It's nice when someone else takes revenge for me," he said, then to his men, "Let's go."
Rex only allowed his thoughts to dwell for a second on the fact that 5052 apparently felt that he was owed some manner of revenge before returning his focus to his own entrapment. "How's it coming?" he asked.
"I'm just about clear," came the reply, and less than ten seconds later, he was free. He set immediately to the task of freeing his squad leader; and as he was doing so, CT-9090 and 5576 arrived.
"Get the beacon," Rex ordered. "Have you two figured a way out of here?"
"I've mapped a route," 9090 replied as 5576 retrieved the beacon.
Beacon in hand, 9090 asked, "Are we the last squad?"
"Not for long," Rex replied. "With the booster, we can catch up in the air."
The instant he was free, he got to his feet, and turned to CT-9090. "Lead the way out."
CT-2025 watched as Bravo Squad's gunship departed the area. Then Havoc Squad's. And a short time later, Crimson Squad.
"Lieutenant Rex, are you all okay? What's your status?"
"We're on our way."
"The other three squads have all departed."
"Copy that. Just be ready to decipher the next set of coordinates once we get there with the beacon."
CT-9090's alternate exit route turned out to be a fairly straight shot to the outside, where they were forced to climb over some of their own handiwork on the destroyed landing pad before the gunship was able to maneuver into a position where it could pick them up.
Right away, they began working on decoding the beacon and obtaining the coordinates for the next TACAN.
This leg of the contest took them out over the northern sea to a volcanic island. They were the only team with a beacon on the island, the other teams each having their own separate locations for TACAN number two. Without the rough-and-tumble of the previous retrieval, this one went much quicker and with only the hazards of a highly volcanic surface to navigate. It was followed with another joint TACAN snatch in a mock village filled with synthetic hostiles made from reprogrammed battle droids.
By the time Echo arrived at this third TACAN location, Crimson and Bravo Squads were just preparing to leave. Havoc Squad was already gone on its way to the fourth TACAN.
Still, Rex was not discouraged. There was plenty of distance in which to make up for lost time. After the mock village, the hunt took all four squads clear out of the atmosphere to a derelict orbiting supply ship that had been converted into part of the training scenario.
And this time, owing to the booster, Echo was less than a minute behind the leader, which was still Commander Wolffe and Havoc Squad.
As they approached the station, the wheels in Rex's head began to churn at high speed.
All three competitor ships had flown into the same landing bay . . .
"Are there other landing bays?" he asked.
A moment later, CT-8448 replied, "There's another large vessel bay directly opposite this one, and there's a number of much smaller bays on both sides."
"Are the passages accessible from the other bays?"
"They would appear to be, but it's impossible to tell if there are any blockages from the schematic," 8448 said.
Rex considered for a moment. "I'm willing to take that chance." Then to CT-1550, his 904th Communications Group code hacker and transmissions specialist, he asked, "Can you close these bay doors?"
CT-1550 felt a thrill of excitement. "Closing them in?"
"Can you do it?"
"Hell, yeah," 1550 replied eagerly. "Give me one minute to pull the signal, but I need a line-of-sight to pull it—"
"We can drop the team off and then come back," Rex decided. "Flyboy! Take us to the nearest bay for a drop-off!"
"If he starts calling me Flyboy, I'm going to revert to calling him Blondie," 9218 simpered as he directed the ship towards one of the smaller bays.
"CT-1550 is running an access sweep. Fek and all, the guy is faster and smarter than a droid." This remark, from Captain Dart, the senior controller tracking Echo's progress, drew the attention of everyone in the room. And while the other controllers were unable to leave their stations, Major Tides, Commander Steed, and Colonel Claw all came over to see what was going on.
They watched the hundreds of signal codes scrolling down the screen.
"Damn, a clone is doing that? How come none of us knew he had this skill?" Steed asked.
"This is more than a skill," Claw noted. "This is a talent. I take it the intent here is for him to close the bay doors?"
"Exactly."
Steed grinned. "Trapping the other squads' ships inside. 7567 is nothing if not bold."
"Well, last time his boldness landed him and his team in last place," Tides noted.
"I'd be willing to bet that's about to change," Steed said.
"Just remember, gentlemen, this isn't a contest of one-upmanship," Colonel Claw stated. "We have four highly competitive men in charge, and three of them are equally volatile. This could get out of hand very quickly. I don't want my officers treating this like a wager."
"Yes, Sir," came the contrite acknowledgments.
Steed added, "It is difficult not to enjoy watching them. CT-7567 has a way of bringing out the best and the worst in everyone."
"The point is for him to bring out only the best," Claw replied. "Just like it's our job to make sure we bring out the best in our trainees." A pause, during which he grew very serious. "This is one of the finest classes we've ever had, and he's got the makings of one of the greatest officers we've ever taught. But if we don't rein him in, if we don't instill a sense of prudence in him, he's going to push himself over the edge and take a lot of others with him, because we've all seen . . . he's charismatic and the troops would follow him to hell just because he asks them to."
"Understood, Sir."
"He did it," Captain Dart interjected. "He pulled the signal and is sending the n-code to close the blast doors." Given Colonel Claw's stern words, he suppressed a grin and merely stated, "He's going to lock them in and remote the code control. This kid is good."
"Looks like they're onto him," Steed remarked. "They're trying to fly out of there."
Echo's controller was positively jubilant and trying to hide it. "They're in for a surprise. He's reversed direction on the shield."
"I don't want the whole supply ship to blow up," Claw warned.
"No danger of that, Sir," the controller replied. "They can't get up enough speed to cause any serious damage to their ships. They're just going to end up getting a few dents and needing to find another way to open the doors."
"I'll say this . . . these men are setting new standards for what it means to be an ARC," Claw proclaimed. "If we were looking for creative thinking and problem-solving, I think we've seen enough here to last a lifetime."
CT-2025 rounded the corner, CT-1448 and CT-390 right behind him.
"There it is."
CT-1448 ran forward to remove the beacon from the panel in which it was resting.
"Have the other teams already got their beacons?" CT-390 asked.
"I don't know," 2025 replied. "I don't know if they were located here or somewhere else. No time to worry about it. Let's get back to the ship. If this is a chance to pull ahead, Rex will peel the skin right off our bones if we blow it."
"You know, I'm surprised I didn't think of this earlier," Rex said thoughtfully as his gunship returned to the landing bay. "Can you pull each squad's comm frequencies and jam their ability to speak to each other?"
"With other equipment, yes," 1550 replied. "But not with what we have on board. I can't pull the comms through the blast door or the reversed shield. Once they're out here and in close enough range, I might be able to."
"Rex, this is 2025."
"Go ahead."
"We've got the beacon and are on our way back," came the report.
"The other beacons?" Rex inquired.
"We don't know. We don't know if they were at this same location. We haven't seen anyone from the other squads."
"Copy that. Well, we should have some time," Rex said smugly. "1550 managed to close and secure the doors. They won't be getting out of there for—"
He cut off abruptly as the supply ship suddenly lurched and shuddered.
"What the—"
Cody was well known for his calm, unflappable demeanor, and it was on full display now. As soon as he'd seen the doors closing, he'd ordered his pilot to make a run for the door; but when scans showed the shields had been reversed, he called off the run and immediately began formulating a plan to get through.
Turning to Shinie 2876, he ordered him to open the side troop deck door. "Stand by." He jumped down and flagged the other two ships.
From Crimson's ship, CT-5052 himself came forth. From Havoc's ship, CT-8881 emerged. The three men met between the ships.
"Unless someone knows how to hotwire those doors, we need to pool our resources to get out," Cody said bluntly
"We've got someone on our team who can hotwire them, but it will take some time," CT-5052 replied.
"We don't have time," Cody stated. "If CT-7567 is out there, you can bet he'll take advantage of this situation."
"Considering he probably caused it," 5052 grunted.
"So, what are you proposing, Commander?" This from CT-8881.
"If we continuous fire with all three ships' front CB lasers, we can take out the shield. Then a couple predator missiles should be able to blow a whole big enough for our ships to get through."
"Firing lasers in this enclosed space could end up superheating the metal and causing a friction spark," 5052 voiced his concern.
"Which is why we need to keep our electro-dampeners at full power and monitor ionization," Cody pointed out.
CT-8881 nodded. "I'm in."
"Me, too," 5052 agreed.
"Good. With any luck, we'll be through those doors by the time our men get back," Cody said. "Send word to your squad mates not to enter the bay until given the all-clear. Last thing we need for any of them to walk in here while we're frying metal. Keep your helmet comms on your squad frequency. You two, switch wrist comms to 890.1. Return to your ships and wait for my command."
Once back aboard, he spoke through his wrist comm, heard only by 5052 and 8881. "Make sure you raise shields before we begin firing."
"These babies don't have much in the way of shields, Commander," CT-8881 replied.
"They're better than nothing," Cody said. "Go to hover and raise shields. If you come into contact with any metal surface, you might be igniting that spark you were worried about, 5052." Once all three ships were off the surface with shields up, he gave the command to fire.
"This is why he's the best," Colonel Claw nodded approvingly. "He knows the only way out is for the three teams to work together for the moment."
"As long as he doesn't end up blowing the whole place to smithereens," Major Tides remarked.
"You sound like you're talking about 7567," Steed quipped. "This is Commander Cody. He's cautious to a fault."
"And he's being decisive," Claw noted. "I've been told that his roommate has been hounding him about his . . . waffling since day one."
"He may call it waffling; I call it thinking before he acts," Steed opined.
Colonel Claw inclined his head to one side. "Mm, I'd say there's some truth to the claim of indecisiveness. I think working for General Kenobi has put him in the position quite often of simply being told what to do. He's used to waiting for orders. Granted, once he has those orders, there's none who does a better job of carrying them out successfully. But he's not as fast at making decisions on his own. Or—no, that's not accurate: he makes decisions readily enough, but he changes his mind a lot."
"He didn't get to be the finest officer in the GAR by just following orders," Steed put forth.
"Clearly," the colonel agreed. "I'd never be one to second-guess Commander Cody's prowess – or his decisions, for that matter. But it's an accurate observation to say that he changes his course of action, changes his plans, very often; and that can give the appearance of being indecisive."
"Well, he's being decisive now," Tides said. "They just shorted the shield. One or two well-placed missiles, and they're back in business."
"Are we permitting them to arm missiles, Sir?" Bravo's senior controller asked.
"We've permitted everything else," Claw replied. "And if the only way for them to get out is to blow up the doors, then we're permitting them to arm missiles."
"That felt like an explosion," CT-9218 said from the cockpit.
CT-1550 looked at his squad leader. "You think they got through the doors?"
"Maybe," Rex replied. "2025, how far out are you?"
"We'll be there in thirty seconds, Rex," came the stolid reply.
"Make it twenty."
And they did make it twenty. The landing team was barely onboard before the ship made for the doors and open space. Coming around the corner of the station, they could see a massive hole blown through the doors, but no sign of the other ships.
"Make a pass," Rex ordered his pilot. "I want to see if they're still inside."
CT-9218 brought the ship cautiously towards the opening. Through the small view port just fore of the gunship's closed doors, Rex could make out one ship inside the bay, but the opening was not large enough for him to see the entire inside at once.
"Swing 'er round 045," Rex ordered, and his pilot complied.
But before the turn could be made, a full thrust reverse abruptly threw them all to the deck as CT-9218 tried to avoid colliding with a ship that had suddenly emerged from the opening. He successfully dodged one impact only to feel a brutal jolt that sent the ship side-slipping towards the supply ship.
He barely had time to shout a warning. "Everyone, hold on!"
"Bump them again." CT-5052's voice was even. It contained not a hint of emotion. He was only doing what was necessary to delay Echo Squad and their reckless, irresponsible leader. A couple bumps would do no real damage – just throw them off their game a bit. And it would be small payback.
In the cockpit, CT-1944 had no qualms about following the command. He, too, wanted to see Echo put back on their heels, made to pay for their trickery. The couple of friendly love-taps he delivered were perhaps not so gentle as they should have been, but nor were they debilitating.
As Crimson Squad then sped off towards their next objective, CT-5052 muttered to himself, "You can think I'm scared if you want, but at least I'm not a fool."
But if he thought the contest was over, he was sadly mistaken; for even as Echo Squad was passed by Havoc and Bravo Squads, Rex was hardly deterred by the rough play. In fact, he liked it. It got his blood pumping and fanned the flames of his competitive spirit. "Everyone okay?" Once he received affirmative replies and his ship was brought back under control, he looked to CT-390.
"Is the booster still online?"
"Still online, L.T."
He spoke his next command slowly, relishing its terseness. "Punch it."
"Uh-oh. I think 5052 just awoke the beast," Captain Dart stated. "I can hear it in 7567's voice: it's personal now."
"Has it ever not been personal?" Commander Steed asked rhetorically. "A lot of hatred between those two."
"The hatred is mostly on one side, Commander," Dart pointed out.
"That's true," Steed conceded. "But CT-7567 has allowed himself to react to 5052's hatred, and that's never a good thing." A pause. "What's baffling is why 5052 has singled out 7567."
"It's not as baffling as you think, Commander," Dart said. "When CT-5052 and I were in the same brigade, he was a different man. I know you're aware of what happened on Ryloth, you know the circumstances that made him the way he is now." He never took his eyes from the tracking screen for his squad. "I understand completely what he sees when he looks at CT-7567."
Commander Steed was not as committed in his response. "I understand what he went through, but I still don't see how he can transfer a perceived wrong to a man he'd never met before."
Captain Dart drew in a long, steady breath. "He needs someone to blame."
Bravo Company was the first to reenter the atmosphere, and they were moving at a tear. Cody felt fairly comfortable that he had a solid enough lead that even Echo's supercharged repulsors could not catch up with him on this leg of the quest. As the four ships skimmed down through the sky, he also noticed that they were all on roughly the same course, and he wondered if the next beacons were all collocated as were the last ones. If that was the case, he could be sure Rex would pull another trick out of his fourth point of contact.
"CT-0206, pull up the other three teams on scanner," he ordered. "We need to keep an eye out for any funny business. Pay special attention to Echo Squad."
CT-0206 redirected the deck scanner console – a crude but adequate scope grid layout with a handful of stretching toggles and squawk readers – to focus solely on the three trailing ships. Right away, he saw something worth reporting.
"Echo is closing the gap at . . . almost 1200 kph," he said, the astonishment coming through in his voice. "At that speed, they'll overtake us in . . . about one minute."
"Twelve hundred? That's almost fifty percent faster than these ships were built to go." This from CT-0207.
"There's no way a gunship can maintain structural integrity travelling at that speed for any sustained period of time," Cody stated. In the silence of his own thoughts, he added, "He's got to know that. He's got to know that if he keeps this up, it will tear his ship apart." It was as much a hope as an attempt to convince himself that his roommate was not completely and utterly devoid of caution, that the drive to win had not left him bereft of common sense.
Once again, unbidden, thoughts of General Skywalker arose in his mind to the point where he could almost imagine it was the general himself leading Echo Squad. As an ally, such a thought would have given him great comfort.
As an adversary . . . it was distressing.
And that was putting it mildly.
"Get close enough so they can see the whites of my eyes!" Rex ordered.
They were coming up on Crimson Squad.
At roughly 2,000 meters altitude and travelling over a vast swampland, the lieutenant had directed his pilot to put a tail on CT-5052's gunship. Now, they were about to overtake it.
"Keep pace!" he ordered, slamming his fist against the door control and opening the starboard door panel. He removed his helmet. "Get closer! I want to make sure this message is received!"
Aboard Crimson's ship, CT-1944 in the cockpit was gearing up for a fight. "They're closing with us, Lieutenant! I think—I think they're going to bump us!"
CT-5052 raced to the port lookout window. "He can't be that stupid. A bump in space is one thing, but I bump in gravity, at these speeds . . . he can't be that stupid." He saw the side door open, and there stood CT-7567 smiling in a sinister conceit. The Echo Squad leader waved the palm of his hand up and down in front of his face in a wordless insult that every clone knew, a gesture that equated politely to the ascribing of idiocy.
CT-5052 could handle an insult. He'd suffered much worse.
But when Echo's ship swung starboard in what amounted to a warning lunge, causing his own ship to bank and fall back, that was as far as 5052's patience could stretch.
As Echo sped down and away towards the marshy surface, CT-5052 commanded in a calm and deliberate voice, "Follow them." Then to CT-1789, the co-pilot and primary weapons officer, "Launch a PM. Target one of their repulsors." PM was short for Penses Missile, a remote-guided short-range air-to-air missile.
"Sir?" CT-1789 was not sure he'd heard correctly.
"I said, send a PM to take out one of their repulsors," CT-5052 replied through gritted teeth.
"Sir, that's dangerous—"
"Not if you do your job and control the thing to its target," 5052 stated. "If you take out one engine, they'll be forced to land."
"A crash landing," CT-5211 mentioned from where he stood beside the lieutenant.
"These training ships are outfitted with all kinds of failsafes and remote controls," 5052 said. "You can be sure if the cadre thinks there's any danger, they'll take over."
"This isn't a range, Lieutenant," 5211 pointed out. "A mistake out here won't be as easy to correct."
"Major, I'm squad leader for this mission." There was a subtle boiling just beneath the lieutenant's calm veneer, and for a brief moment it spouted to the surface. "Do you really think for one second that they're going to let anything happen to their golden boy? Look, we set out to win this thing, and it's been dirty dealing all the way. We're not going to hurt anyone. We're just going to take them out of the race. CT-1789, prepare to fire."
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"Shall we take over, Sir?" Crimson's senior controller asked.
Colonel Claw did not answer right away. What he'd heard over Crimson's internal comm channel was still turning in his thoughts.
Golden boy.
Golden boy. Was CT-7567 really their golden boy? Had they treated him with deference in their determination to confirm that he really was the great super-soldier they believed him to be? Had they been willing to overlook his non-conformity and label his departures from procedure as creative thinking and initiative? Or had they truly considered his aberrations to be inspired problem-solving? One thing seemed clear: CT-7567 thrived on adversity and competition.
"No, let them proceed," he said. "If the missile looks like it's going to hit other than an engine target, remote destruct." To Captain Dart at Echo's master console, "And if it looks like Echo isn't going to be able to make a controlled crash landing, activate the emergency backups. But wait for my word. I don't want to let them off the hook too soon. Let's see what these boys can do."
The two controllers steeled themselves for a wild virtual ride, as Havoc and Bravo's controllers counted themselves lucky not to be involved in the melee.
Luck, however, was a scarce and fickle luxury, malleable and prone to circumstances.
And if circumstances had been wild thus far, they were about to get wilder.
"Lieutenant! Incoming!" CT-1448 shouted. "PM missile! Closing fast!"
"What?"
"We're being fired on!"
"Take evasive measures!" Rex ordered, pulling his helmet back on. "Everyone, secure yourselves!"
The problem with the gunships was that other than overhead handholds and the occasional jump seat, if so configured, there was not much in the way of "securing" oneself. The ships were meant for the rapid insertion and retraction of platoon-size elements. Thirty men standing. They were built, as Rex had said earlier, to take a beating, not for comfort. Even safety considerations focused mainly on the ship's ability to withstand enemy fire, hold together in a moderate-to-severe crash, and deliver its complement of surviving clones to the battlefield as quickly as possible.
A gunship's best defense was its pilot, and CT-9218 was proving himself to be a damned good one. The gunship did not carry heat flares or decoys to throw off incoming missiles; and despite CT-1448's attempts to use the rear CB lasers to shoot down the missile, the latter was simply moving too fast.
CT-9218 was flying the bulky warhorse as if it were a fighter, but even with the additional speed of the booster, it was a battle he knew he could not win.
"I can't shake it!" he huffed into his comm. "And—and—stress warnings are lighting up! I'm taking her down—"
He received no answer from below in the troop bay, where his fellow squad mates were being tossed around like pellets in a bwoon sack.
The moment of impact turned the attempt at evasion immediately into an attempt to maintain enough control to execute a controlled crash that did not end up killing them all.
With the spinning and rolling of evasive maneuvers now over, Rex managed to get to his feet. "Where were we hit?!"
"Right rear repulsor," 1448 replied. "We're going down."
"I've got it," 9218 said with a calm that was in stark contrast to his earlier tones when the missile was chasing them. It seemed, now that the missile had hit, he felt the control was, once again, at least partially in his hands. He could manage a landing. Of that, he was sure.
"Is she still flyable?" Rex asked.
"No chance, Lieutenant," 9218 replied. "I can guide her down, but that's about it."
"Can you land safely?"
"It'll be rough, but, uh, some of the edges of the marshland look pretty good," came the reply. "As long as we don't sink, we should be okay." A pause. "Everyone, brace for impact."
"Commander Cody! Crimson Squad just fired on Echo!"
Without a thought, Cody opened the port door. He was too stunned for even an expletive.
For nearly twenty seconds he watched as Echo Squad did everything in its power to try and stop the trailing missile. He watched as the missile made contact. And now he watched as the wounded gunship coasted uneasily towards the surface.
"They're going down!" Shinie 7132 cried out. "They're going to crash!"
A moment later, they watched as a spray of water fanned out behind the failing ship as it cut into the marshy wetland.
"Commander?"
Cody looked over to see Captain Snap looking expectantly at him, but it was Rex's voice he heard, taunting him.
"You change your mind more than the wind changes direction."
Damn him. Damn him and his ability to get inside Cody's head.
If the commander did what he was actually considering doing, this would go down as one of the most egregious moments of wishy-washiness in the annals of ARC training. It was even possible that Rex might never let him live it down.
"Commander Cody?" Snap pressed.
"Swing her round," Cody ordered with an exasperated sigh.
"Is everyone alright?" Rex asked, trudging through the knee-deep water covering the troop deck.
"Looks like it," CT-2025 replied. "A little banged up, but that's more likely from 9218's flying than the landing." He paused. "You boys okay up on top?"
It was 9218 himself who answered. "We're okay. I'd pat myself on the back, except that we've lost."
"Pat yourself on the back anyway," Rex told him. "That was a hell of a landing."
It was true. CT-9218 had brought them in just at the edge of a large area of open water where the thick and long-rooted sea grass and bulbous plants made a sturdy enough plant bed to cushion their landing and the muddy marsh basin had stopped their sinking any deeper. The front of the ship had plowed a bit deeper into the water, while the rear of the troop deck stood just barely above the surface.
"Well, I won't mark it as one of my best, but at least we're all alive," 9218 said.
"And disqualified," CT-9090 added with an exuberant mirth. "And worth every fekking second of it! Best time I've had since I've been here!"
CT-2025 chuckled. "It was a bit of an adventure, wasn't it?"
"If I'd known we were allowed to fire on each other, I'd have shot them all down within the first two minutes," 1448 quipped as he climbed out of his co-pilot's seat and slid down the side of the ship into the troop bay.
Rex felt a sense of pride and even amazement. These men, even if they were upset about being disqualified, certainly were not taking it badly. In fact, they all appeared to be pleased with the race they had run, with the schemes and unorthodox tactics. If Rex didn't know better, he'd guess they were already contemplating the makeup run.
"Well, I'm glad you all feel that way," he said, taking off his helmet and wiping the sweat from his brown. "That's the attitude I like to see."
"Lieutenant . . . look! A gunship is coming!" This from Shinie 8462.
All heads turned just as the sound of the engines became audible.
"Are they coming to finish us off?" CT-1550 asked.
Rex squinted. "That's Cody's ship."
They watched as the gunship drew up alongside them, hovering just above the water. Cody, without his helmet, and his men were standing in the open door.
"Come on. You and your men get onboard," the commander said. The expression of his face was a strange combination of resignation and authority.
Rex regarded him for a moment. "Are you sure?"
"Get on board before I change my mind." His choice of words was purposeful.
Now, without hesitation, Rex motioned to his men. "Let's go!" Then to CT-390 and under his breath, "Is the booster still intact?"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"Bring it."
Shortly thereafter, Bravo's gunship climbed once more into the sky.
"Well, neither of our squads will win, but at least we'll both finish," Cody stated.
"We still have a chance to win," Rex insisted.
"We're way behind, Rex. There's no way we can catch up—"
"Oh yes, there is!" He motioned hastily to CT-390, who took CT-8448 and one of Cody's men with him for assistance. They had already opened the drive maintenance hatch before Cody realized what was being proposed.
"No, Rex, you're not going to hook that thing up in my ship—"
But this was now Rex's situation, and he was able to use every strength of his charismatic and persuasive personality to move things in the direction he wanted. Cody's men were loyal to the commander and would never disobey him; and that left Rex with two choices: either change the commander's mind—always a very good possibility—or keep the commander so occupied and harried that he had no time to countermand his usurper roommate.
As it turned out, Rex managed the latter while attempting the former.
"Listen, Cody, if there's still a chance to win, shouldn't we take it? Imagine how it would be for us to win this together? Now, that would be worth bragging about," Rex insisted, planting his shoulder against the Commander's chest and nudging him towards the front of the troop bay, away from the activities taking place in the rear.
"I'm not interested in bragging rights," Cody replied. "I went back because I didn't want to see you fail. I didn't want to see your squad fail. I don't care who finishes first. I don't care who finishes last."
"Ah, Commander! It's always better to finish first than last. In war, last means defeat," Rex droned on, casting surreptitious glances towards the back of the ship.
"This isn't war," Cody replied. "You and CT-5052 have turned this into a grudge match."
"No, no, we haven't," Rex pushed back. "This is just competition . . . the ARC way."
Cody felt a sting of anger at those words. "This isn't the example we should be setting for the other trainees, especially the Shinies. And—" he spoke with emphasis, "I don't want that thing installed on my ship. You know damned well these ships aren't made for that kind of speed, and we're carrying twice as many men now as—"
"Cody, Cody—Commander! The ship is built to carry an entire platoon! Thirty men! We're—we're only two-thirds full—"
"Rex, don't—"
Rex pulled off his helmet and turned with open, entreating arms to the rest of the men. "We all want to win this thing, don't we?! It's worth putting up a fight just to show the cadre that we can overcome all the osik that's been thrown at us! We can do this!"
Red anger arose in Cody's cheeks, but he was faced with something he had not expected: his own men voicing fervent agreement with Rex. They were getting caught up in the moment, in the contagious enthusiasm. But was it a dangerous enthusiasm? Or was Cody just being resentful of his roommate's ability to draw people in?
Rex saw CT-390 give him a thumbs up.
His next action, undertaken without any thought other than victory, was something he would look back on with regret for the rest of his life.
He punched the wall comm that connected him with the cockpit. "Cut power and prepare to re-engage on my mark!"
In the cockpit, CT-8383 could not distinguish that the voice was any other than his squad leader. He cut power.
"What—what! Belay—belay that—" Cody ordered, slamming Rex against the bulkhead.
Rex shoved back then drew the commander in close. "When are you going to stop pecking around and learn to take some chances?! Your men want to win! Once—just once!—put aside the rulebook and show them that you're more than just a—a—" He bit back on what would have been an unnecessary and untrue insult.
Cody pushed him violently away. He spoke in a low voice. "This is my ship and my squad. You and your men are passengers. Is that clear?"
At that moment, CT-8383 spoke from the cockpit. "Commander, we're losing altitude at a dangerous rate. Can we reengage the engines?"
Cody looked back to where CT-390 was regarding him, waiting for the decision.
Cody, after a brief hesitation, held out his hand to indicate agreement. He would not order the booster removed.
"Re-engage," he ordered.
"Hold on!" Rex shouted, and in the next instance, the occupants found themselves jolted by the sudden acceleration.
Rex grinned. He had prevailed once again. He now put a friendly hand on Cody's shoulder. "You'll see. We can still win this."
Cody turned his head, regarded him in silence for a moment, then stated in a tightly controlled voice, "I'm putting you off at the next location."
"Commander, there's another gunship coming up behind us. It's moving fast."
Wolffe looked at the scanner array and scowled. Crimson Squad had been just slightly behind him for the past hundred kilometers. But now, it was clear that a third ship was closing ground; and at the speed it was traveling, there was no question that it was Echo Squad.
"I thought Crimson took them out," Wolffe said gruffly. "How the hell are they back there now? And what happened to Commander Cody's ship?"
"Sir . . . if I may," CT-8722 pulled the stretch on the approaching ship. "That is Commander Cody's ship."
"What? How is—" Wolffe knit his brows. "The commander must have gone back and taken whatever Echo was using that gave them all that speed. Now, he's using it in his own ship." A pause. "Pilot, increase speed."
"We're at full speed as it is, Commander."
Wolffe dove deep into his thoughts. Obviously, he himself was not averse to playing dirty. But just how far was he willing to push things in order to win? Was it worth it to put other trainees' lives at risk? A derisive laugh popped within him. He recalled the land navigation exercise, his own injuries, and the genuine dangers of that exercise. Why should this one be any different?
"Stand by on CBs. No one's getting past us."
"Standing by."
"I don't believe it," 5052 breathed. "It—it can't be him. We saw them go down." As if to prove his eyes weren't deceiving him, he opened the portside door and bracing himself against the jam, he leaned out as far as was safe. "That can't be them. There's no damage to that ship."
"It isn't them, Lieutenant," came confirmation from the clone manning the scope. "It's Bravo Squad."
"How are they moving so fast?"
"They'll be beside us in fifteen seconds, Lieutenant. What are your orders?"
And what could his orders be? He'd already taken out one ship. There was absolutely no way he would even contemplate doing the same to Commander Cody. That would be going too far.
"Just . . . give us all the speed you've got," he replied morosely. It was the best he could do.
It did not surprise Cody that Rex had not taken seriously his threat to offload him at the next stop. In fact, he was beginning to doubt whether Rex had ever taken him seriously. He imagined that his opportunistic roommate must view their relationship as one very important step on his way to the 501st. Nothing more, nothing less.
But of course, the commander also was experienced enough to recognize when his anger was clouding his judgment. In the events that had just happened—and were still happening—there had been nothing of true surprise in Rex's actions. It was just that Cody had never expected Rex to show that kind of disrespect towards him.
Be that as it may, it was something that could wait to be addressed at a later time; for at the moment, the commander had one priority, and that was making sure his ship did not fall apart. He could hear the unnatural groaning and grating of metal being stressed to its limits. He could hear the high-pitched whirr of repulsor coils conducting more ion traffic than they were built for.
He wasn't even sure the ship would make it to the next destination if it continued on at this rate. And then, he heard a voice in his ear.
"Reduce speed." It was Rex, speaking over the comm panel in the ship's rear. The lieutenant had moved to the back of the troop deck where he was now surrounded by his own men. This suited Cody just fine, for his anger was such that he really did not want to even lay eyes on his roommate for the time being.
The command to reduce speed should have brought the commander some measure of relief. And for a moment, it did. But then suspicion began to seep in around the corners.
And with good reason.
As Cody began to make his way to the back of the deck for the purpose of confronting his wayward friend, he heard Rex speak once again. "Hold this position and stay alongside."
"Alongside?"
"Everyone, hold on!" Again, this was Rex, and the warning was followed by the starboard door opening.
In the blink of an eye, Rex was standing in the opening, his blaster raised and pointed towards Crimson's ship. He fired off a cable shot that embedded just above the other ship's open portside door, activated the retraction feature and sailed out the door like a human streamer. Immediately behind him went CT-9090 and CT-5576 on their own cables.
"What the hell are you—fek and all, are you crazy?!" Cody roared. "CT-8383, move us away! Rex! Rex!" But he knew he was wasting his breath. Rex could not hear him through the rush of air, and he was still only on his internal frequency. The comm panel in the ship only reached other Bravo Squad members.
He went to his last resort. He went to the emergency comm channel that would be audible to all the clones participating in the exercise. It would effectively mean the conclusion of the event, but as far as Cody was concerned, it was over anyway.
The retraction only took three seconds, and Rex was on board Crimson's ship, facing a group of men so stunned, they hardly knew what to do.
But Rex had known what he was going to do, and he went straight to it. Diving forward, he caught CT-5052 around the waist and took him down. With the heel of his hand, he dislodged his helmet and began punching. CT-5052 fought back, and together the two rolled across the deck, coming perilously close to the edge. When 9090 and 5576 climbed aboard, the melee expanded.
"Silflay hraka, u embleer hrair!*" Rex cursed in his preferred language for crudity, Lapine. "Next—time—you try to kill me—and my men, you'd better—make sure you—finish the job!"
"Get the fek off me!"
"You asked for this! You're getting what—damn! what you—ow! Fek!"
"We're going to get disqualified! Damn it, we're all going to—" That was Cody's voice breaking in over the emergency frequency.
Rex felt the ship suddenly slow down and level out, followed by a precipitous drop in altitude and the closing of the doors.
"They've taken back control." This was from CT-1944 in the cockpit. "We're all screwed."
Rex pushed up onto one knee. "This is your fault."
There was no mistaking the arrogance, the pride in his voice, as if he had no worries whatsoever that his actions had brought the entire exercise to an end – as if just such an outcome had been perfectly acceptable to him.
CT-5052 glared at him for a moment before speaking. And then all he could manage was, "You're the worst kind of soldier."
Rex stood up. "Take a good look at yourself and then see if you can still say that."
"Commander Cody was going to call it," Major Steed said, blowing his breath out in relief. "We just beat him to it."
"Amazing how quickly it went downhill," Tides remarked. "I've seen some crazy things before, but that was . . . "
"Dangerous and irresponsible," Colonel Claw finished the sentence. "I want all four squad leaders in my office in one hour."
Whew! And just getting started. Anyway, some notes:
Jai'Galaar = Shriek Hawk (from which comes Jaig Eyes, which Rex wears on his helmet)
Ben'ho-er = a cat-like animal with the requisite ability to land on its feet
Scinchi Doe = a deer
Bwoon sack = a leather sack in which rifle pellets are carried
Uquilo = predatory bird
Silflay hraka, u embleer hrair (from Watership Down, yes, again): "Eat sh**, you stinking one of a thousand enemies."
The handwave gesture Rex makes in front of his face is familiar to anyone who has driven in Germany, where they do not give the finger for offenses, but wave their hands in front of the face, "You're crazy."