Dear Reader, Thank you to Ms CT-782, the Unnamed Guest, Freedom Phantom, my two mystery guests, and Daniela for your reviews! Much appreciated! Well, this is the final chapter in the ARC arc. The next chapter will resume with the battle of Kamino and Ahsoka still back on Bertegad. I hope you've enjoyed this very long flashback. Peace and happy reading. CS

Chapter 75 ARC Troopers

"Utrinque Paratus" (Ready for Anything)

The Motto of British Parachute Regiment

"Lieutenant!"

"Rex! You're back!"

"I knew they couldn't keep you in there for long."

Such was the reception when Rex walked unexpectedly into Echo Squad's training room. It was akin to a hero's welcome, with his squad mates tossing off any pretense of cool professionalism. There were plenty of back and shoulder slaps, expressions of genuine happiness at his return, and subtle glances to discern any lingering injuries.

Following the bacta tank, Rex had spent three days in a patient room, doing everything he could to show his attending doctors that he was recovered enough to be released. And truth be told, the staff was as anxious to see him go as he was to get out. Rex was a terrible patient, complaining, fidgeting, constantly pressing to be cleared and returned to duty. He tended towards the ornery side when confined to bed, and the fact that his feet were the slowest healing part of his body only intensified his unpleasant temperament.

He'd had plenty of visitors during those three days – a circumstance which put him in a quandary. On one hand, he was flattered that so many of his fellow trainees had wanted to come see him. On the other hand, he hated people worrying about and fussing over him. He might enjoy the attention that came with a great accomplishment on the battle field; but the attention he was receiving now, based on his incapacitation, had an embarrassing element to it, a certain sense of weakness. And Rex despised weakness – in himself, at least.

On the fourth day, he'd been cleared to return to training. The one remaining module was not physically demanding; and that was a good thing, for Rex would not have been up to it. He was well-healed, but not fully healed. Still, he was determined to complete the training, even if only by the skin of his teeth. He imagined that his performance during E&E had probably amassed a number of demerits, and to his mind, there was no guarantee that he would graduate from ARC training.

But there was no doubt among his squad mates. Judging from their reactions as he'd walked in, they had full confidence that they would finish ARC training as they'd started – as a squad, ten men, a team, each contributing in his own way to their collective success. In fact, if it were possible, they appeared to hold Rex in an even higher esteem than before.

CT-2025 stepped forward. "Good to see you back on your feet, Rex."

Rex was humble. And as foreign as it was to his squad mates, it was even more awkward for him, as he'd never experienced it before in any significant degree. "I'm just glad they didn't kick me out."

2025 regarded him with a puzzled expression. "Why would they kick you out? You weren't the one who broke the rules. You were the one who paid for it."

"I didn't exactly act with the most . . . dignity," Rex replied.

"To hell with dignity," CT-9090 pushed forth. "They turned an exercise into one man's vendetta. And you still beat them."

"I would hardly say I beat them," Rex demurred. "It sure didn't feel that way."

"I wish we'd been there," CT-5576 stated.

"So do I," Rex agreed.

There was some small talk, inquiries after his health and a careful probing for details of the ordeal. But when it became clear that he did not want to discuss his time in the POW camp, his squad mates shifted their focus and did not press him.

"Tomorrow is nav," 9090 announced. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Rex replied. "You know it's my worst area. Cody's been a lot of help, but I don't know if it's enough." He shrugged with false nonchalance. "If I wash, I wash."

"You're not going to wash," CT-390, now known as Smoke, deferred. "I'd bet all I own on it."

Rex chuckled. "I don't want you to lose your handful of credits on a shaky bet."

CT-2025 watched Rex with the others. He was very much the same as he'd been at the beginning of ARC training, and yet there was a definite change – although precisely what that change was did not lend itself so readily to explanation. Perhaps it was a sort of reserve that had not been there before. There might be a slight hint of increased humility. It was not fully clear.

"Speaking of which . . . I suppose I'd better get some more practice in," Rex concluded.

"You want any company?" 2025 asked.

"Cody's waiting for me," Rex replied. A grin. "He's plenty company."

It was the following day; and as Rex sat down at his console, one in a bank of a hundred consoles, most of them occupied by his fellow trainees, he drew in a deep breath and settled in for what he already knew to be his most likely area for failure.

He looked to his right, where, three consoles down, Cody sat calm and self-assured.

"And he envies me? He's brilliant at everything," Rex said to himself. "I could use some of his confidence right now. Hell, I could use some of his skill."

"Test Number One!" The instructor announced, drawing Rex's attention.

The computer-less navigation exam consisted of seven tests. The first four were allotted thirty minutes each, and each trainee had a different set of coordinates to calculate. The last three were "emergency" calculations, the first allotted three minutes; the second, two minutes; and the third, one minute.

Rex waited for the data to populate on his console. Once the figures were up, a green light illuminated on the screen, and the test started. He began working, and in twenty minutes, he was ready to hit the submit button. Yet, he hesitated. A glance at Cody showed the commander still working his calculations.

"There's no way I would finish before Cody," Rex cautioned himself. "Yeah, but he's probably checking his figures for the tenth time . . . you know he's like that." He grit his teeth. "Stop second-guessing yourself. If you're right, you're right. If you're wrong . . . you have six more exercises. Maybe."

The maybe was the qualifier, for a wrong calculation did not necessarily mean immediate failure. There were three possibilities. If the status light showed green, it meant the calculations were correct and the jump was a success. Yellow meant the calculations were incorrect, but the jump had not resulted in the destruction of the vessel. A yellow status light meant the trainee still had the opportunity to recalculate from the new location in the remaining time. Red meant that the calculations had flown the ship straight into a planet or star or other non-recoverable celestial occurrence.

Rex punched the button.

Green!

Green!

Not red. Not yellow. Green!

Rex slapped his palm against the bridge of the console in pleased self-congratulation. True, it might be only the first test, but he had passed; and that was more than he would have done even two weeks ago. He turned his head to see Cody looking back at him with an approving and encouraging nod.

One down.

Six to go.

Ninety minutes later, Rex was ready to crow his own victory.

With four tests behind him—and all green—he was now growing anxious to be done with the whole thing. One more area he had mastered, and now all that really remained was to graduate and head back to the 729th.

He was growing weary of sitting in one place, one position for so long. His feet had begun to throb, reminding him that he was still not fully well. And the newly bacta-generated dermis was itching beneath his armor in more than one place.

"You will have three minutes to complete this next test," the proctor stated. "Keep in mind. A failure to jump is less damaging than a jump that results in your destruction."

"Keep in mind that a computer could do all this in seconds," Rex said in an inward, snide voice, for although he was proud of his achievement, he still considered learning the technique to be a waste of time. Computers and droids existed for just such tasks.

His console flashed green for him to begin.

The examination was a single jump but with a wide range for accuracy. The other jumps had allowed for no more than a .000001 parsec deviation. This exercise allowed for .0001. Rex began his calculations, working with greater haste than the previous exercises. The numbers provided for this particular jump were not as complex as the lengthier exercises, but he still took the time to double-check that he was inputting them properly. Even so, he kept coming up with a system that did not have the clearance between planets to possibly match the given coordinates. The chronometer on his console read two minutes.

"What am I doing wrong?" he fumed silently. "These are the right figures. The system's star has all the right spectrograph readings." He cleared the data completely and started over again.

And again the same results.

Thirty seconds.

"Why isn't this working—"

And that was when he noticed. The coordinates for his own current position in relation to the system had been changed from the previous exercises.

"Damn!" he cursed under his breath, moving swiftly to make the changes. With less than a second to spare, he had input the last of his new coordinates. No sooner had he punched the submit button than he realized his error.

As the screen glared red at him, he threw his head back in disgust.

He'd forgotten to refresh the jump coordinates after inputting the parallax. He'd flown right into one of the planet moons.

Around him, he heard groans of disappointment. A quick glance showed him that he was not the only one to fail this test. But that didn't make him feel any better. Having thirty minutes to plan a jump was perfectly acceptable when there was no urgency, when lives were not at stake. But in battle, there often was no luxury of time.

When he looked towards Cody, he was not surprised to see a satisfied expression on the commander's face. Of course, Cody had passed the test. Rex returned to his own screen with a glare.

"Sixth test begins in thirty seconds. You may begin when your console flashes green."

At this announcement, Cody looked over and saw the consternation etched on Rex's face.

"7567," he said just loud enough to ensure Rex heard him but loud enough to draw much attention.

Rex turned his head.

"Lunar hawk."

The commander's words, a complete surprise, actually made Rex smile. There were no hidden answers in the two words. Only the calling to mind of a successful outing and the beauty of the winged silhouette against the moon. The climb up through the forest, overnighting in the trees. The ease with which Cody had shown him how to make calculations . . .

. . . the soaring image of freedom.

Rex gave a nod of acknowledgment. Suddenly, the pressure abated, though there was no reason why it should have. Rex still cared about his performance, about passing the course. He still wanted to claim the title of ARC trooper. He still had wispy dreams of one day being a member of the 501st or some other elite unit. But in one unaccountable instant, the image of the hawk and the recollection of that amazing moment of sensing its freedom had chased away the bonds of constraint.

The console turned green and he began working the calculations. The target solar system had a star emitting an electromagnetic spectrum wavelength of 593 at 489 frequency and 2.08 photon energy. That narrowed the number of possibilities down to three. He chose the system with the closest matching parameters. Parallax numbers on a skewed hyperbolic arc meant that the figures should change as Rex's current position changed. And as if on cue, they went up by the precise fractions associated with a Type K supergiant.

And yet, the numbers brought him into collision with the star. He moved onto the second system but with nearly the same results. Rex knit his brows. The goal was to get within .01 angular rey of the star but not close enough to fall into its massive gravitation pull. This time, his calculations had not flown directly him into it, but he'd would have been too close to avoid getting sucked in. He went onto the third possibility, and this projection flew him almost directly into the star's center.

"Well, it has to be one of these three systems," he muttered. His chronometer read 75 seconds remaining. "Temp is on the warm side for a K," Rex muttered. "She must not have much juice left, but her size is what's driving the grav." A pause. "I have to take that into consideration. How many degrees wide do I need to aim to counteract the pull?"

His fingers swept smoothly over the console devices as he input set after set of numbers, looking for the combination of figures that would counteract the star's gravitational pull. He knew he had the bottom of the range in place, but the upper end seemed to have no limit.

Then a thought occurred to him.

She wasn't a Type K supergiant at all! She was a Type K dwarf! His premise that the orange color on the spectrum had somehow indicated a supergiant had been flawed. This star was already drawing in on itself, which was the true account of the strong gravity; and as Rex re-entered his parallax numbers based on the absolute magnitude of a much denser star, he saw the figures shift for the solar system he currently had pulled up on the screen.

The pinpoint was within .01 rey!

With almost a minute remaining on the screen, he punched the submit button.

"Ha!" he barked out, unable to contain his excitement as the screen lit up green. He slapped the top of the console. "HA!"

From the front of the room, the instructor spoke with calm reserve. "Is there a problem, CT-7567?"

"No, no problem at all," Rex beamed.

"Then I advise you to keep yourself within decorum," the instructor warned.

One minute later and the test was over. Again, an undertone of failure fluttered through the room, but this time, Rex was not part of it. Looking around him, he could tell by the looks on his brothers' faces who had passed and who had not. There was Cody, sanguine as ever. One row up sat Gree, and he made a point of turning and giving Rex a thumbs up to indicate his own success. Commander Wolffe, in the front row, sat quietly behind his glowing green console. As a fleet officer, non-aided navigation was something he could have done in his sleep, and he actually seemed bored with the tests.

Rex could not help but compare himself with how his fellow trainees were doing, with special attention to those troops who had already seen active duty. Not surprisingly, CT-5869 of the Coruscant Guard, breezed through, as did Rex's squad mate, CT-2025. Rex could easily see who were going to be the greats, and he had not yet given up hope of including himself among their number. Perhaps, most surprisingly, he noted that CT-5052—Bly, he had to get used to calling him that—appeared unmoved by the pressure of this final module. He sat before his own green screen waiting patiently for the last test.

And then they would know which trainees, from their remaining number, would become ARC troopers. From a starting class of eighty, they had lost only seven; and that was nothing short of miraculous, given ARC training's wash-out rate.

Rex believed, with some degree of self-absorption, that it was due to the high quality of this particular class of trainees.

"Test Seven will begin in thirty seconds."

The second the screen flashed ready, Rex began working through his numbers. Forty seconds later, he submitted his coordinates with twenty seconds to spare; and the green that glowed back at him reflected his final success. This time, he contained his exuberance. He smiled at the screen and drew in a deep breath as he realized that ARC training was now over.

Six weeks. It had passed in a flash. All that remained was graduation.

And now, it was sinking in that he would most likely never see most of these men again. In a three-million man Army, with another ten million in the making, it would be a rare occurrence to run across his fellow trainees over the course of the war, however long it might last. There also floated about, in the back of his head, the recognition that many of these men would be dead within a year. A sobering thought, but one that every clone knew intrinsically.

The final test now over, the instructor gave the floor over to Commander Steed, who'd arrived in the room to watch the last three tests. He stood in the front of the room and nodded appreciatively.

"Overall, an impressive performance by all of you," he acknowledged. "I know there were some of you who found non-assisted navigation to be a challenge." A pause. "And others of you found your challenges in other areas." He strode across the raised dais and regarded them in such a way that it made many of them think what an amazing field commander he must be. "And we'll know by tomorrow who will become an ARC trooper and who won't."

Rex lowered his eyes for several seconds. He had imagined that if someone was sitting in the room this far into the training, they had passed. Surely, any washouts would have already been dismissed. And how many had held off failing until this last test, only to be defeated by something so innocuous? Was it really possible that a trainee might have passed every other module only to be foiled by this?

"Graduation is tomorrow at 0900 sharp in the main assembly hall," Steed went on. "We'll all get our answers then. Dismissed."

Rex stood up and moved to join Cody.

"You don't think they'd really fail anyone this late in the game, do you? I mean, unless someone totally botched the nav tests, they—they wouldn't string someone along all this time just to tell them they didn't make it," he asked.

"This is ARC training, Rex," Cody replied evenly. "We're talking about the elites here. There's no room to be concerned about whether or not someone's feelings might get hurt. I'm sure they've been reviewing and ranking us on our performance over the entire course. A trainee who was average during the survival training may have redeemed himself during E&E. They're looking at the whole picture. And you don't get the whole picture until the end."

Rex appeared unconvinced. "Still seems a rotten thing to do. Get a guy's hopes up and then tell him, sorry, you weren't quite good enough."

Cody regarded him with a curious smile. "I'm surprised to hear you say something like that. That seems like an awfully . . . soft view of things."

"Don't call me soft," Rex warned with a rueful glare.

"I'm not calling you soft," Cody replied. "Just saying it's out-of-character."

Rex smirked. "It's the new me."

"I told you I didn't want a new you," Cody chastised. "Your faults are better than most men's strengths." He stepped out from behind his console. "Let's go get something to eat."

"I was going to go work on the jetpack some more. One last flight—"

Cody was not going to argue. "Okay, then, jetpacks it is. You can scrape up one for me, I assume?"

Rex grinned widely. "Of course, I can."

CT-5869 walked into the assembly hall, spotted his squad mates, and moved to join them. They'd taken to calling him Lieutenant Stone on account of his unshakeable presence under pressure; and he'd gladly accepted it. He liked that his reputation was that of solidity, and he attributed that quality—with no small amount of pride—to the fact of his service in the Coruscant Guard.

As he came down the aisle, he was intercepted by Commander Wolffe.

"Lieutenant Stone," the commander said in his usual gruff voice.

"I can't believe he's actually calling me that," CT-5869 said in silent amazement. "I figured to him, I'm less than even a number."

Out loud, he replied with a professional, "Commander Wolffe."

"You've changed my opinion about you," Wolffe said bluntly.

Stone didn't miss a beat. "Oh? Interesting, because I wasn't trying to."

"I know," the commander said. "If you'd been trying, I would have considered you weak, seeking approval. As it turns out, you're a lot more capable than I first thought. More capable than a lot of the other guys who are going to walk up on that stage in a few minutes."

Lieutenant Stone's modesty and diplomatic background prevented him from giving any acknowledgment other than a slight tilt of the head.

"Not that I've changed my opinion of the CG in general," Wolffe went on, as if he could not permit himself to be seen as too agreeable. "But you impressed me."

"I appreciate that, Sir."

"Huh! Here's a meeting of the minds I never would have imagined!" Gree appeared between the two, slapping them both of the shoulders. "Commander, aren't you afraid you might get some Coruscant slime on your—"

Wolffe rolled his eyes in good humor. "Gree, you're a Prumbelian Sopwipth." Then for good measure, he added, "When are you going to get a man's haircut?"

"Hey, hey! This is in honor of my fallen brothers," Gree reminded him.

"Yeah, and I can't believe they haven't come back from the grave yet to ask you why you couldn't find a better way to honor them," the commander prodded.

"I kind of like that look," Stone said with mock thoughtfulness. "Very eye-catching."

"Come visit the 7068th and half the squadron looks like this."

"Well, it still looks better than his majesty's," Wolffe stated, nodding towards the doorway where Rex had just walked in with CT-2025 and the rest of Echo Squad.

His two companions looked towards the door then back at the commander with doubtful expressions.

"What? Don't tell me you like that . . . Gaber-fuzz?" Wolffe demanded.

"You can't deny that it suits him," Stone pointed out.

"To a tee," Gree added. "He was different when we were batch-kits. He's still different from every single one of us."

This, Wolffe would not contest, though he stuck by his original point. "He still looks like a fluff."

"Gentlemen, take your seats, please. The ceremony will begin in two minutes." This announcement from the sergeant-at-arms sent the milling trainees and cadre to their seats.

The trainees sat in the front four rows by squad. The cadre sat behind them, along with a considerable number of the support staff for all the training operations on Myotta. After all, ARC graduation was a great achievement, and it was considered a privilege to see those men who had passed the rigors of training receive their pauldron and kama, and in many cases, their assignment to a new unit.

Colonel Claw was the first to speak, and his remarks were brief. He announced that this class had had the fewest washouts, shown the greatest initiative and original thinking – both to the positive and the negative. He thanked his cadre and the supporting staff. He thanked, in absentia, those commanders who had seen fit to send their very best to ARC training. And he congratulated the trainees themselves on their hard work and perseverance.

Commander Steed and Major Tides joined him on the stage. Taking over the podium was Captain Dart, whose job it was to announce each trainee and his assignment.

"Finishing at the top of the class. Honor graduate. Commander Cody."

Not surprisingly, the hall rang out with applause, cheers, and shrill whistles.

Cody walked up the steps and stood facing the audience as Steed and Tides affixed the pauldron over his shoulders and handed him his kama. Cody smiled graciously, knowing that the moment he left here, he would never wear the accoutrement. It was neither his personality nor his style to wear the bulky trappings of an ARC trooper, despite their awe-inspiring appearance. The achievement itself was enough. He did not need any outward expression of it. And besides, the stuff was heavy and awkward. He much preferred the simple maneuverability afforded by plain armor. He shook hands with Colonel Claw and was then told to remain onstage to congratulate his fellow graduates.

Each trainee came up individually. There was no particular order except squad order, with Alpha Squad leading the way. Alpha was Stone's Squad, and it was announced that now-Captain Stone would be returning to the Coruscant Guard as a mission commander.

Rex could not have been happier for him, for he'd known that this was precisely what Stone had wanted; and well-deserved, it was.

It also came as no surprise that Commander Wolffe would be headed back to his billet with General Plo Koon, for there was no chance the Jedi would have even considered allowing him to be reassigned.

Gree was staying with Master Luminara Unduli. Indeed, it had been General Unduli who had insisted her lieutenant attend ARC training in anticipation of moving him into positions of greater authority within her own unit.

Most assignments were met with expectation or pleasant agreement.

There were, however, a few surprises; one of which was Bly.

The lieutenant was promoted and reassigned to Jedi General Aayla Secura's 327th Star Corps. This announcement garnered a not-so-subtle murmur of collective envy from the gathered men, most of whom had sound knowledge of the beautiful and exotic, not-to-mention scantily clad, Jedi.

Then there was CT-2025, Rex's squad mate and a man he'd come to respect and admire for his calm demeanor and sense of brotherhood. In many ways, CT-2025 reminded Rex of Cody, and that was the best compliment Rex could think of.

CT-2025 would be joining the cadre. Colonel Claw himself took the moment to give him the name Colt, and Rex led a standing ovation.

Of course, at that point in the proceedings, Rex had been contentedly observing and evaluating, trying to estimate whether this assignment was good for this one, that assignment bad for that one, who seemed pleased and who seemed disappointed.

But when his own squad's assignments were finished being presented, he found himself still back in his seat, surrounded by his newly christened squad mates, and then the members of Falcon Squad were being called up onto the stage.

His squad mates looked at him and mumbled among themselves.

"Did they forget you?"

"They wouldn't make you sit in here if they'd failed you."

"They've got to be messing with you."

Rex remained aloof and said nothing, but internally he could not help but wonder if they had failed him. For all his arrogant, cocky self-assuredness, this was payback. This was teaching him a lesson.

"No, no, there's no way," he refused. "They just skipped over me by mistake. Everyone was so excited for Colt, they missed my name."

When the last name was called out, and the last trainee crossed the stage, it was clear to everyone that the class's most visible trainee had been overlooked; and that would not stand. Over in Delta Squad, Gree was about to stand up and call attention to the oversight, but before he could do so, Colonel Claw resumed speaking, not from the podium but with his own un-aided booming voice.

"I don't normally do this, but we're going to break with protocol here for a minute," he announced, then turning to Cody, "The floor's all yours, Commander."

Cody nodded. "Thank you, Colonel Claw." He looked out over the gathering. "I asked the commandant if I could make this last presentation. I asked him because it was important to me. CT-7567?"

It might very well have been the first time Rex had ever blushed. As he walked up, he could feel all eyes on him, and he felt a sort of electric tension in the crowd, as if they all knew what was coming. Everyone knew but him! But even he had an idea . . . could it be possible, just possible that Cody had managed to swing an assignment to bring Rex to the 212th? Would they get to serve side-by-side? It seemed too much to hope for.

He stood beside Cody and looked out over the assembly – not at them, but above them, at some indistinct point on the far wall, anything not to make eye contact and give away what he was feeling, what he was hoping.

"I'm not one to drag things out, so, I'd like to congratulate Captain Rex, the new first-in-command of the 501st Legion."

Rex was dumbfounded. He could scarcely comprehend the words.

This wasn't about the 212th. This wasn't about serving with Cody. This—this wasn't even about being a member of the 501st. Cody had said—had said . . . first-in-command.

First-in-command. First-in-command.

Fek and all, first-in-command!

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be! The 501st had an officer, Captain St—St—damn, what was the man's name? Stamp! Yes, Stamp!

Rex was barely aware of Cody's placement of the pauldron on one side while . . . Colt? Yes, it was Colt who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to affix the other side.

"You okay?" Cody asked quietly.

Rex only nodded.

"Then shake my hand."

Only then did Rex realize that Cody was standing there with his palm outstretched. He raised his eyes to those of his roommate and held out his hand mechanically.

"Is this true?" he whispered.

"It's true," Cody replied.

Rex turned slowly to Colt. He could hear applause and cheers, but they sounded far away and filtered. "You knew about this?"

"The commander only told me this morning."

Back to Cody. "When did you find out?"

"We'll talk about it afterwards," Cody said. "I think the commandant is waiting to congratulate you."

For indeed, congratulations were in order.

"You knew about this all along?" Rex pressed Cody.

"I should say so," Cody replied. "It was my idea."

"Your idea?!"

He and Rex were on their way back to their room after the graduation had concluded. With one night left at the compound before the shuttles would ferry the trainees across the scattered reaches of the galaxy, there were all manner of celebratory functions in the making. But at this moment, a gaggle of thirty or so clones were all headed back to the dormitories before partaking in the night's festivities.

"Yes, I suggested you to General Kenobi," Cody explained.

"But I thought General Skywalker already had a first-in-command," Rex stated. "You said Captain Stamp was there and that he was a perfect fit. Why would General Skywalker need a new—oh no, no . . . did something happen?"

"Yes, but it's not what you think," Cody replied. "Captain Stamp was perfect. So perfect that Sector Headquarters decided they wanted him up at their level. That left an opening for a new first-in-command. General Kenobi thought ARC training would be the ideal place to find a replacement, and General Skywalker agreed, although I guess he wasn't too happy about losing his captain to Sector HQ. Anyway, that's why General Kenobi stopped by here on his way to Coruscant. He came to see if I had any recommendations. And I had only one."

Rex narrowed his eyes. "But—General Kenobi was here after the TACAN Snatch. You were so angry at me then."

"Yes, I was," Cody conceded. "But that didn't blind me from seeing what you were made of."

"But . . . why didn't you tell me?"

Cody was honest. "Because it wasn't a sure thing. There was no telling what you might do in the last few weeks of training."

"Huh, you mean, even after the TACAN exercise, you were afraid I'd do something even more crazy?"

"Or show the kind of man you really are, which is what you did in E&E."

"That wasn't exactly my finest hour, Cody," Rex said with a shake of his head.

Cody clapped him on the shoulder. "You still have a lot to learn." He gave a whistling chuckle. "But I can say this: if ever a clone were tailor-made for General Skywalker, it's you. I'm just hoping you're both not too much alike. Just be forewarned: you're going to have to prove yourself to him. He thought very highly of Captain Stone."

His words wound their way deep into Rex's thoughts. Yes, it could be true that he still had a lot to learn. He had always believed that experience was the best teacher, and the war itself wasn't even a year old yet. What lay beyond the horizon? And what would it mean to serve under General Skywalker, a man whose reputation for daring and fearlessness preceded him? If experience outranked everything, then how would Rex's experiences thus far stand up against the past experiences of the 501st?

"What's wrong? Don't tell me you're getting nervous?"

"Yes, of course, I'm nervous," Rex admitted. "This is General Skywalker, so I have to be the best."

"You are the best, Rex," Cody stated.

Rex managed a grin. "Second best."

The commander's response surprised him. "No, the best." He stopped walking and waited for the others to go past. "I mean that, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it. It took me a while to realize it, the difference between a great leader and the best leader. All those things I faulted you for in the beginning are the very things that make men want to follow you. You have a single-minded focus: victory. And that's what's important in a war."

They began walking again.

At length, Rex spoke with gravity. "Not all victories are on the battlefield. I learned that from you."

"The whole idea of you serving under General Secura is just . . . there's no justice in the universe," Gree complained with a playful elbow to Bly's ribs.

They were among several dozen attendees at one of the celebrations that evening.

"Say what you want, but I hear she's all business," Captain Stone put forth.

"She may be, but she's still damned nice to look at," Gree persisted.

"You're one to complain." This from Stone again. "General Unduli isn't exactly a gundark."

Here, CT-390 interjected. "None of you have any reason to complain. It's not like you're getting assigned to the 89th."

His listeners assumed expressions of contrition – some genuine, others mock.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that, Smoke," Colt said with a wry grin. "Jedi General Piell is, uh . . . well, we all know his reputation."

Rex spoke up. "Who's General Piell?" He and Cody had made the rounds to several gatherings and had now been at this one for the past hour or so.

It was Cody who answered. "Jedi Master Even Piell. He's commanding general of the 89th Intelligence Group. He's a Lannik, and . . . not the most pleasant of people."

"I've never heard of him," Rex said.

"Be glad," Gree quipped.

"That bad?"

Stone answered with some authority. "I've escorted him several times when he's come to the Senate on business. The best my sense of diplomacy will allow is to say that he's a Weequay's ass."

Bly grinned. "I'd hate to hear the worst your diplomacy would allow."

The conversation went on for another thirty minutes, covering a range of subjects.

At length, Rex nudged Cody. "Let's go. There's something I want to do before we leave tomorrow."

"What's that?"

"Repay a debt."

They excused themselves from the revelers, and Cody followed Rex outside into the night where the last of the three moons was already halfway through its run. As soon as Rex left the paved walkways for the dirt paths that led into the woods, Cody knew where they were going.

They scaled the wall just as they had three weeks earlier and began the trek up the mountainside. Two hours later, they were on top, overlooking the dark landscape below.

There were few things about which Rex was self-conscious, and expressions of gratitude were not among them. "This is what I wanted to thank you for," he said.

Cody glanced at him sideways. "This is the debt you wanted to repay?"

"Yeah," Rex replied. "Because coming up here changed everything. This was when we went from being roommates to being brothers."

Cody grinned. "I thought you had always considered every clone your brother."

"I do," Rex admitted. "But . . . some are brothers in a . . . closer sense. Don't ask me to explain it. That involves too much thinking."

The commander chuckled, then his voice grew fond with recollection. "You know, I realized something, too, when we came here the first time." A pause. "That's when I knew you weren't going to be just another officer. I'd brought you up here to show you the heights, and your first reaction was to envy the hawk, to want to go higher, to be where he was." He seemed to choose his words very carefully. "And I believe that the only person who . . . who's worthy of trying to get you there is General Skywalker."

"Are you trying to make me more nervous?" Rex asked with a hint of humor.

"Just saying what I think," Cody replied.

After a long silence, Rex said, "I'll make sure General Skywalker is happy with your recommendation."

Cody nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. "See that you do. My reputation is riding on it."

"Say, Commander," Rex probed cautiously. "Now that I'm going to be first-in-command, do you think it's possible for me to go . . . troop shopping?"

"Troop shopping?"

"There are some men I'd like to bring with me to the 501st," Rex explained.

"I think it's a good idea if you get a feel for the ropes first," Cody replied. "You'd better make sure your first priority is to General Skywalker. Then you can worry about filling the ranks with your own hand-picked men."

Rex nodded. "Good advice. There's still a few months before they finish their training anyway."

"Who?"

"Some of the cadets Wolffe and I led on the survival exercise. They were impressive, the kind of soldiers any commander would want."

"Get yourself settled in first."

And despite Rex's impatience, he recognized it as sound counsel. Especially since the cadets were not even available yet.

However, there was someone who was . . .

"You're just appointed first-in-command, and already you're trying to steal my best troops." Colonel Claw regarded Rex with a somewhat sad smile. It was the following morning, and Rex and Cody's shuttle was not scheduled to leave until the afternoon. Rex had come, without an appointment, to see the commandant. "But because they are two of my best, I would never hold them back from going to a unit like the 501st."

"Only if they want to go," Rex noted.

"Well, let's find out." He lifted his wrist comm. "Orderly, send for Sergeant Denal and CT-611."

Rex chuckled to himself. "To me, they were always First and Second Escort."