Dear Reader, thank you to my reviewers: The Unnamed Guest, Freedom Phantom, Guest, Oaky, Shadow Wanderer, Kat, Sued, Ms CT-782, LLTC. A short chapter before all hell breaks lose next chapter. There are a lot of very short scenes in this chapter, setting the stage. So, it jumps between teams quite a bit. Trying to get to the end of the Kettrun sequence before Thanksgiving . . . I love reading people's "guesses" about what might be going to happen! Peace, CS
Chapter 82 Stumbling
"I love those who do not know how to live, except by going under, for they are those who cross over."
Also Spracht Zarathustra (Thus spoke Zarathustra)
Friedrich Nietsche
Ki'weya came to a stop at the edge of a small clearing. He wanted to make sure it was safe before attempting to cross. Such open space was a perfect ambush location, and if the enemy were aware of his approach, this was as good a place as any from which to launch an attack.
He turned his head slightly, with more than a small bit of annoyance, at the clone officer who had somehow managed to stay right with him, never more than a few steps behind, despite the padawan's use of his Jedi skills to set a good pace.
"You're still here?" he said with a sneer.
"Clearly, I am," Top replied without sounding in the least offended. "Are you trying to lose me, Commander?"
"I didn't want you to come along in the first place," came the flippant reply.
"Ah, that may be so, but here I am," Top shot back smoothly. "And since I'm here, I think now would be a good time for you to tell me what your secret mission is."
"It's my mission, Lieutenant; not yours," Ki'weya said, sounding impatient, as if it were a waste of his time to even discuss the matter.
"Well, I'm with you, so that makes it mine, as well," Top rejoined. "And I'm not going any further until I know what we're heading into."
"That's no matter to me. Like I said, I didn't want you tagging along to begin with," the padawan sniffed. "I'll be happy to leave you behind."
"I don't know if you want the likes of me thumping around in the jungle." Top's voice and demeanor took on a challenging and warning glint. "I might accidentally alert the enemy to your presence."
Ki'weya turned and glared at him, naked eye to darkened visor. "Don't think you're so smart, Lieutenant. You would never do anything that could also put your fellow clones at risk."
"I do it all the time," Top replied. "We're all risk-takers. It's part of being a clone. Aren't your own soldiers like that?"
"Absurd," the commander scoffed. "You're bluffing."
"You think I'd blow a mission just to teach you a lesson, Commander? No, I wouldn't. But . . . if I'm just wandering around out here, who knows what might happen."
There was a moment of tension, but then Ki'weya narrowed his eyes in something approaching admiration. Or, at the very least, tolerance.
"I thought clones were supposed to be obedient. Weren't you bred to be that way?"
"I am obedient," Top replied. "Most of the time, anyway. But I'm also not a fool. My captain charged me with looking after you. I'm obedient to him."
"I outrank your captain," Ki'weya pointed out.
"Not in any way I can see that matters."
The bluntness, the dearth of military courtesy, and the lack of malice with which the words were spoken caused Ki'weya to pause and consider, rather than come back with an immediate jab. At length, he nodded slowly.
"Very well. My mission is to free some prisoners, one in particular," he began. "Twelve standard days ago, the Mastok and its battle group were attacked by Separatists—"
"Yes, I heard about that," Top interjected. "The Mastak was destroyed."
"Yes. Destroyed after they managed to launch some escape pods. Several of those pods were intercepted," Ki'weya went on. "Jedi Master Piell and several members of the bridge staff were taken prisoner. Intelligence indicates they were brought here."
Top listened intently. "And you think you can go in there by yourself and rescue them?"
Here, for the first time, Ki'weya showed perhaps something more than his usual cold indifference and condescension. "I'm to rescue them if I can." A pause. "Master Piell has information of great importance to the Republic. If nothing else, I have to try to retrieve that information."
"And leave the men behind," Top pressed.
"If I must."
"That doesn't seem very . . . Jedi-like," Top pointed out.
"Maybe not," Ki'weya agreed. "But it's war-like. I'm sure you can appreciate that."
"I can, in fact."
"Good. Then I expect no more . . . veiled threats from you," the padawan concluded. "You said you're here to look after me. I'll let you do that. Do you think you can try to obey my commands?"
Top smiled beneath the visor. "Of course. If you're honest with me, I'll have your back."
Rhydonium? Rhydonium! Fek and all! How could intelligence have missed something like that?
Rex grit his teeth and spoke calmly. "ALCON, stand by. Remain in place." He switched his comm to a closed loop he shared with Cody. "We can't blow the place now. It would take out half the planet. Any suggestions?"
Cody's voice came back immediately, smooth and cool as always. "Repro caps are out, but other non-proliferating explosives could be used in some of the locations."
"That's still risky," Rex replied. "If any of the explosions reached the rhydonium—"
"Your guys are good, aren't they?" Cody challenged. "As long as there's no rhydonium where they set the charges, they can calculate the blast radius using their HOPO's and keep the blast zone away from the warehouse."
"It's not our call either way," Rex lamented.
"Sync in Commander Ki'weya."
"Kripes, this place is like a dungeon. What's this slimy osik all over the floor? And it reeks . . . "
Top's thoughts were not moving in a pleasant direction as he and Ki'weya stole swiftly down a long, dark corridor, their path visible only through Top's night vision and the commander's naturally sensitive eyes. They'd entered through a door in the ground that opened into an access tunnel running parallel to the main passageway that led to the prison cells. The tunnel was just that – rough hewn from the stone, the walls and ceiling wet and dripping, a floor of slippery mud.
It was not lost on Top that Commander Ki'weya's intelligence seemed to be a great deal more informative than the intelligence that had been made available for the demolition mission; and although that fact rankled him, Top did not fault the commander. The mystery of what intel did or did not make it into the hands of those carrying out the missions was something Top had long ago ceased to contemplate, for it was an exercise in futility.
Twenty or so meters ahead, a faint, flickering light could be seen reflecting on the slime-covered tunnel wall, indication of another passageway branching off.
"We'll take that-" Ki'weya began, falling quickly silent as his wrist comm vibrated, telling him a communication was coming in. He activated his earpiece.
"Commander Ki'weya, this is Commander Cody. We have rhydonium onsite. Approximately 50 cannisters. Repro caps are out. What is your recommendation?"
Top could see the look of consternation on Ki'weya's face, but he had not been synced in and was not privy to the conversation.
"That is your concern, Commander. Carry on as you see fit."
"Commander Ki'weya—"
"I defer to you and the captain regarding this matter. Ki'weya out." The padawan turned to Top. "Let's keep going."
"Commander, what was that about?"
"There's rhydonium onsite."
"That means they can't blow the complex, not with repro caps anyway."
"They'll figure it out. We have to keep going."
"What about the rhydonium?"
"That's not part of my mission," Ki'weya replied with sounded like forced detachment. "I trust your captain and commander to manage the situation."
"But—Sir, their mission can have a direct impact on yours—"
Ki'weya faced him squarely. "Do you or do you not trust your captain to do what's right? If you're going to be useful, I need you to focus on what we're doing and not worry about what they're doing."
It was a challenge of faith, and Top was not about to allow his trust in his captain to be called into question.
"I trust my captain more than I trust you, Sir, with all due respect," Top replied. "But it's foolhardy to disregard an important piece of intel. It won't do much good to rescue your men if we all get blown to bits on the way out."
"Do you honestly believe your captain would take a course of action that would risk setting off the rhydonium? He will find a way to get his job done; that much I could tell about him. He seems to be the type of man who would never bow to failure." A pause as Ki'weya leaned closer and spoke with grave seriousness. "I am more concerned now with the fact that we've had to break radio silence. It's very likely the enemy is now aware of our presence. That means time is of the essence, so this conversation is over, Lieutenant. You're with me or you're not."
Everything that padawan had said was true, and Top recognized that arguing at this point would do nothing but slow them down.
"Very well. Lead on, Sir."
He had managed to survive another state dinner. The forced civility between some politicians, the inane banalities of others, the opinions of the war and its army . . .
. . . the inevitable discussion of the clones as if they were nothing more than useful implements of war as opposed to individual men, each with his own place within the Force.
He particularly disliked attending the functions his wife sponsored, for it seemed that most of those in attendance were of the "peace at any cost" mindset; and it was this way of thinking that most rankled Anakin. He considered it short-sighted, uninformed, and naïve. Voicing his opinion often led to heated and passionate debates; but he had promised Padme he would not fan the flames at this dinner.
And he had not. He had been polite and reserved, avoiding those conversations that might have led to trouble. And Padme had certainly found the most intimate and thrilling ways of expressing her gratitude.
Now, the following morning, there had been more good news.
Chairman Papanoida's daughters had been found, uninjured and no worse for their ordeal.
So far, leave was shaping up to be quite acceptable.
Padme had gone in early that morning to conduct some Senate Committee business; business of which Anakin wanted and had no part. He had chosen to remain at her residence – secretly, their residence. After seeing her off, he'd gone back to bed and slept peacefully for another hour or two.
Now, he was up and eating leftover Jogan fruitcake for breakfast.
In the morning quiet, his thoughts roamed freely, but at the top of his priorities, he wondered how Rex and his team were doing. They had certainly reached Kettrun by now. Were they engaged in their mission at this moment?
He knew he could attempt to reach out in the Force to see what was happening, yet it was not something he wanted to do. More than often than not, Anakin's attempts to see with the Force had revealed disturbing or frightening images. And certainly, the unconscious intrusions of the Force that he had experienced on several occasions—including those preceding the death of his mother—were confounding and fearsome enough that Anakin had grown leery of using the Force to sense others' presence or to conjure the future.
And so he satisfied himself with merely wondering about the team for the moment. Later, he would contact 808th Infantry himself and get a report. There was no sense in ruminating in a vacuum of details. Yet, he could already feel a tapping somewhere on the fringes of his awareness. It was as if the mere turning of his thoughts towards his captain had awakened the inklings that now were unwilling to cease in their persistence.
He got to his feet and went to the window, hoping that the Coruscant city scape would waylay the encroaching premonitions – or whatever was slowly wending its way into his consciousness. Still, none of the hustle-and-bustle of the city, none of the bright colors, not even the sunlight glinting off the many chromium and glass-sided buildings could stop the intrusion . . .
"We have to go back, General! We have to go back!"
It could have been any clone's voice. Anakin couldn't tell. But that's all it was. A voice in a swirl of grey. A voice of desperation with which Anakin felt an immediate kindredness, a commonality.
He spoke out loud. "We will go back."
The grey gave way to a sterile blue and silver . . . glass shattering, pipes rupturing, walls cracking, floors rumbling . . .
. . . and the dead. So many dead.
Silence.
"Rex . . ."
"Master Ani?"
Anakin startled and drew in a sharp breath. He gathered his wits before turning. "Threepio."
"I am sorry to disturb you, but there seems to be an emergency situation at the Senate," the droid stated. "A number of Senators have been taken hostage." A reluctant pause. "Including Senator Amidala."
Cody grimaced. He hadn't expected Commander Ki'weya to be so indifferent towards the news of the rhydonium. But it was clear from the padawan's communication, that the matter was being left up to both him and Rex, and that suited Cody just fine, despite his disgust at the commander's clear lack of concern for this part of the mission.
"You heard the man, Rex. Suggestions?"
"Set smaller charges with smaller blast radiuses, bypass the warehouse altogether," Rex replied. "And do it in half the time. I'm sure they've detected our communication signals."
"Agreed on all points. I'll put out the word. You and Bads keep heading towards your objective," Cody stated.
"Copy that."
Top spoke in a whisper. "I don't see any guards anywhere. And there haven't been any prisoners in any of these cells."
Ki'weya waved his hand as both an acknowledgment and a warning to be quiet.
The two cut over into one of the cell-lined corridors and passed at least a dozen cells, all empty. And, as Top had stated, there was not a guard in sight.
They were nearing the main entrance from within the dungeon, but even from a distance, they could not discern any activity other than a weak and flickering light up ahead. Coming to the small open area, they found a single man sitting at a single desk with his back to them, his feet kicked up on the desk, his eyes focused on a bawdy holo-zine.
They took the man completely by surprise. He didn't even have a chance to raise his weapon.
"Where are all the prisoners?" Ki'weya demanded.
The man scoffed. "No prisoners here, Republic scum."
"We know they had a Jedi being held here," the padawan persisted, then to Top, "Go check the other corridors." Then to the sole guard, "You're going to want to be cooperative."
There were only two other corridors and Top made quick work of them, reporting back within one minute. "All the cells are empty."
"Where have the prisoners been taken?" Ki'weya asked.
"Dit'iya tenta," came the reply.
Ki'weya smiled. "I speak Tanktonese, and you really shouldn't say things like that. But . . . you will tell me what I want to know. You will tell me where the Jedi prisoner has been taken."
The guard was silent, but there seemed to be a crack in his defiant manner.
"You will tell me where the Jedi prisoner has been taken."
"I . . . will not . . . "
"You will tell me where the Jedi prisoner has been taken."
Top watched with both fascination and a degree of horror. He had never seen a Jedi use the powers of the Force to get into someone's mind and compel their thought-processes. To be sure, General Skywalker had always preferred outright physical brutality or the threat of it to get what he wanted. This mind control was something Top had heard of, but to see it in action was not just impressive but disturbing.
"He—he was taken—agh!—taken to—to—to—"
"Tell me!"
"The Citadel!"
Top could feel the shock and dismay that suddenly emanated from the commander. He himself knew fully well what the Citadel was and the weight of this revelation.
"When?" Ki'weya demanded.
"More than 10 days ago," the man replied. A despicable smile stretched across his face. "We knew you would come here sooner or later. We were smarter."
"A reward for your cleverness," Ki'weya ground out, giving Top a look that needed no explanation.
And Top had no qualms about killing a terrorist in cold blood.
One shot did the trick.
"We need to get out of here," Ki'weya stated.
"What about the rest of the team," Top asked.
"Did I not make myself clear, Lieutenant? They will do the job they came here to do," the commander replied. "I have no doubt that we will be hearing explosions any minute now. We don't want to still be in the complex when they go off."
Denal reached his arm out, pulling Blackie back into the cover of the alcove just in time to avoid being seen by a gaggle of armed men moving at a quick clip down the adjacent corridor.
"Those men look like they're on a mission," Denal stated. "I think our secret is out."
"Well, we had no choice. The captain had to break radio silence," Blackie replied. "But we still have at least a hundred meters of corridor left before we reach our objective."
"Blackie, ole' boy, I don't think we're going to be able to get there," Denal opined. "Is there somewhere around here we could plant the explosives?"
Blackie took a quick look around then pulled up the schematic on his HUD. "This is a load-bearing wall. If you can boost me up into the ceiling panels, I can probably lay a line of CP-9 and take down this whole corridor."
"Let's do it."
"This place is getting too busy. They know we're here."
Rex noticed the sudden increase in activity with a cool observational manner; but internally, he knew that they had run out of time, that the mission was in jeopardy of failing, and he had to get his men out of the place and back to the extraction point.
"That's the fifth patrol we've seen, Captain," Bads added. "I think we'd do best to place the explosives here and pull out."
"Agreed," Rex replied. "It looks like they've detected our signals, but not the content of our communications. They may or may not know what we're trying to do, but they know we're here." He opened encrypted communications with the entire ground team. "Mission abort. The enemy knows we're here. Unload your cargo wherever you can and proceed to the rendez-vous."
The acknowledgments came in as Rex watched Bads rig his own explosives. He still held out hope that the team might be able to inflict some serious damage despite the change in plans. He had no desire to return to the leadership only to report that they had not achieved their goal.
Less than a minute later, Bads had completed his task, and the two men were on their way.
They had gone less than ten meters down the corridor when the floor shook beneath them, and the sound of a muffled explosion met their ears.
"What the hell was that?" Rex hissed. "Did someone already detonate?"
"No, Sir, that didn't feel like an explosive concussion," Bads replied. "That felt like an impact weapon. A mortar or grenade . . . or a missile."
Rex opened a channel. "All teams! Report!"
Pitch and Fives reported in. Denal and Blackie followed. Hardcase and Fuse. Top and Commander Ki'weya. Kix and Echo. The only one not reporting in . . .
"Cody, do you copy?" Rex held his breath waiting for an answer, but he was met with only silence. "Commander Cody, do you read?" Swallowing down his dread, he motioned to Bads to follow him. "Let's get out of here."
"Sir, the commander—"
"That's what we're going to find out."