Dear Reader, Well, this will be the last chapter before I go on vacation during July. I will be gone the whole month, and after that, it's Umbara. Thanks to my reviewers, Braveseeker3, CT7567Rules, Akira-Hayama, Ms CT-782, The Unnamed Guest, Guest, and Sued13. I certainly appreciate the feedback. This chapter brings back some of the boys from the beginning: Sixer, Sempe, DB, Ajax. We also get our first mention of "Corporal Appo" - not a sergeant yet! This chapter, by its title, is about Fives. I'll explain why I felt I needed to include this chapter at the end. It's really not necessary to the plot, but I think some exposition is warranted. Enjoy and see you in August! Peace, CS

Chapter 93 Fives

"I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered,
but you can't stay here with every single hope you have shattered."

Big Country
Big Country

"We're going to be overrun, Lieutenant. Where is Jango Company? They should have been here by now."

Sixer never failed to be impressed with Sempe's ability to maintain his calm, no matter how dire the circumstances. Fek and all, the man had been shot in the leg, was unable to walk on his own, and was clearly in a great deal of pain; yet he was as even-keeled as a sail-barge.

"You're right," Sixer agreed. "It's not like Fin to be late to the battle." He opened his battalion-wide channel once more through the helmet comm. "Fin, is everything alright? Where the hell are you guys? We're taking heavy fire here. I have a lot of men down."

There was a brief crackling pause before the response came.

And it wasn't what Sixer had expected to hear.

"4th platoon should be at your location by now. I sent them out over twenty minutes ago."

Sixer glanced at Sempe. Even through their darkened visors, they could read each other's expressions.

"Well . . . they haven't made it here yet," Sixer replied. "And we're going to be flushed out within ten minutes if reinforcements don't get here."

"Fek and all." Fin was grumbling into his open comm. "Let me find out what's going on."

"Can you send another platoon?" Sixer asked. "Maybe 4th got ambushed or ran into trouble."

"All my other platoons are spread out on other flanks. I can't pull them back – and it would take too much time—"

"I can send one of mine." This was Jesse breaking into the conversation. "We just pushed the enemy back at our location. I can have a platoon there in . . . ten minutes."

"Make it five."

"Will do."

"And Fin, you'd better get a handle on 4th. This is getting fekking ridiculous. And dangerous," Jesse warned.

"You don't need to tell me, Jesse," Fin replied, and he sounded both frustrated and tired. "This is the last straw."

Fin closed the open comm and went to his company's frequency. "Fives, it's Fin. Where the hell are you guys? Hoth Company is getting wiped out, and you're supposed to be there by now. Where are you?"

Fives considered ignoring the call from his company commander. He might have actually done just that, except that everyone else in his platoon had heard the communication. Refusing to reply would be pushing it just a bit too far. He wasn't going to flaunt any outright insubordination—not this time, at least; but neither was he going to just go running headlong into a rescue operation without knowing precisely how things stood. Damn, he wasn't going to risk his own men's lives in a fruitless attempt to save another company that perhaps couldn't be saved. And if Sixer's men were that pinned down, that imperiled, then Fives would judge what was best to be done. Not Fin. Fin might be the company commander, but he was not on scene.

"We're still enroute," Fives replied curtly.

"Are you encountering resistance?"

"Not so far."

"Then you should have been there by now. Fives, pick up the pace and get in there. Sixer's guys are taking a beating," Fin ground out.

"I'm trying to find the best way to approach," Fives replied. "I can hear the fighting. If we go in there, a single platoon, we're going to be outnumbered as well. We have to surprise them, catch them off-guard, and knock the osik out of them before they realize we're only a platoon-sized element."

"The task isn't too defeat them, Fives," Fin reminded him. "It's to draw fire just long enough for Sixer's men to pull back. Once they've reached the river, your men will pull back, too. You're only there to cover their retreat."

"Copy." Fives didn't sound any more convinced than he felt. The truth was, he was going to follow his own plan. He was going to keep his own men safe while still attempting to help Sixer's company. And he didn't care what Fin or Sixer or Jesse had to say about it. There was really only one officer whose opinion carried any weight – well, two, if Jedi were to be included in the calculus—and both Rex and General Skywalker had remained silent on the matter thus far. And unless the orders were coming directly from one of them, they were subject to interpretation—or as Fives freely acknowledged to himself, outright defiance, if he thought they weren't sound.

He turned and made a quick glance over the twenty-four men who comprised his platoon. "We need to find their gun emplacements and take them out," he said over the helmet comm. "DB, you and Hellcat take two more with you and go scout ahead, find where the fire is coming from."

Double-Barrel closed off his circuit so that only Fives could hear him. "Fives, that's not what the lieutenant's ordered us to do. He wants us in there – now."

"We'll get in there – after we make sure it's safe," Fives replied.

"It's never going to be safe," DB said pointedly. "We weren't made to wait around until things get safe—"

"I know precisely why we were made," Fives shot back heatedly. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to throw away the lives of men just like that. So, either you're going to do things my way, or I'll find someone else to do it."

DB was not one to be easily intimidated, and certainly, a few sharp words could not come close to offending him. But he also knew when to object and when to hold off. Besides, he could always manipulate the scenario more to his own liking once he had left the rest of the platoon.

"Just don't be surprised if the lieutenant is thinking the same thing about you," he said. "None of us is indispensable, Fives. Not even an ARC trooper." He turned and motioned Ajax up to his side. "We've got a bit of a mission."

Fives turned to Hellcat with an almost antagonistic slant. "What about you?"

Hellcat was the sort of clone whose name suited him to a tee. He liked to raise hell. He liked to fight. He was tough, and he knew it. He had the reflexes and patience of a cat, and the single-mindedness of a stalking animal. And although he had an independent streak, he was also loyal and dependable. Hellcat always got the job done – and not always in the most orthodox way.

"I think you should follow Lieutenant Fin's orders," he replied bluntly. "But I can see you're not going to; and since you're my platoon leader, I'll do what you tell me."

Fives would not attempt to justify his decisions. These were, after all, ultimately Rex's troopers. They had his mindset, his mentality; and that meant they were for mission success at all costs. Fives understood the sentiment. He had shared it, himself, for most of his life. It wasn't until Echo's death three months ago that his opinion had begun to change. For better, for worse? That all depended on to whom the question was being directed.

Fives put little stock in opinions that were contrary to his own, but he could not afford to ignore where Rex stood on matters that concerned the battalion. However, he had become adept at skirting around those of his captain's orders which he deemed faulty – and he used just enough tact and deception to make it look as if he were doing his best to fulfill those orders.

Or so he believed. In truth, he was fooling no one.

As he watched Hellcat choose Blackie and move out together, he felt assured that his decision to recon the firing positions and take them out was better than barging in head-first.

But the truth that eluded him in his own efforts at self-deception was that his troops did not share his assurance. They did not share his estimation of the situation.

In fact, as soon as Double-Barrel had set off with Ajax, the marksman had opened his battalion-wide channel. He wanted his lieutenant and his captain to hear what was going on. Something had to be done, and short of an out-right mutiny, this was the best option he could think of.

And it would not have surprised him to know that Hellcat had done the very same thing.

If this rescue action were to end up being a complete debacle, both DB and Hellcat wanted the command to know upon whose pauldroned shoulders the blamed should be squarely placed.

Rex could not believe what he was hearing.

No, that wasn't true. That wasn't true at all. The fact was he could completely believe it.

That was the problem. This wasn't a simple mistake in judgment, the result of the pressures and stress of battle. This was yet another calculated decision to take the most cautious – and least effective—route to achieving the mission.

Fek and all, the mission was to lay down cover fire for Hoth Company's retreat. So, why in hell was Fives sending out scouts? Everyone knew where Sixer's company was pinned down. Everyone knew they were getting the tar beat out of them. The task was to get them out of there.

Rex listened for five minutes of back-and-forth between DB and Fives; with each passing second, he waited to hear that Fives was moving his platoon up. And with each passing second, he grew more convinced that Fives was perfectly content to hold at his current position until his scouts carried out their long-shot mission of taking out the gun emplacements.

If things continued along this course, Rex knew he would have to take strong action.

"Wherever the guns are, they aren't on this side of Hoth's line," DB reported. "They must be flanking them."

"Keep looking," Fives ordered.

"That's a wide radius to check," DB noted. "I don't think Sixer's men have the time—"

"Which is why you need to move quickly."

DB turned to Ajax and shook his head, silently conveying his frustration.

But Ajax knew a secret. It was the sort of secret shared only between best friends. And DB was his best friend, his battle buddy. He made a turning motion with his fist, indicating that DB should close all his comm channels.

DB complied. He already knew what was coming. "You're going to tell me I should do it."

"I don't see any other way to get around this," Ajax replied. "Fives isn't going to change his mind. He isn't going to listen to Fin, and the captain hasn't intervened. I think you should do it."

"Yeah, but every time I use it, I feel like . . . I'm doing something I'm not supposed to do."

"Look, it didn't happen for nothing. I'm not a superstitious guy, but you were given a gift, brother; and you need to use it. You need to use it now."

"Enh, fek . . . "

"Come on, DB."

"Fine. I'll do it," came the grudging concession. "But this can't always be the answer in these tough situations. And, by the Force, Ajax, if you ever say a word about this to the captain, I'll skin you alive."

"Not a word. Though I'd be surprised if he hadn't already figured it out."

"Ugh, even worse."

"Get on with it."

DB took a deep breath, closed his eyes behind his visor, and sought out the small part of his soul that derived its being from something outside himself.

It had been over a year, but it was just as the Doma had said. The eagle that had saved his life back on the crumbling spires of the Taber had imparted some small sliver of its own energy, its own soul. And that sliver had stayed with DB since that moment – never overpowering, most of the time barely even perceptible. But DB had discovered one amazing ability that had come with that infusion of eagle soul.

That soul could rise up in obeisance to its own nature, at the prompting of its host, and soar far and wide. In essence, it had given DB the ability to gain a bird's eye view of whatever it was he wanted to see. While his body remained anchored to the ground, the eagle soul gave him vision over great expanses.

It had been disconcerting at first; and truth be told, it still was, but to a much lesser degree. And quite a surprise, naturally. The mere thought, the simple wish of being able to see what lay farther field had been enough to move the spirit into action. The first time it had happened, DB had thought he was losing his mind. Yet, the eagle had somehow found a way to impart to him an understanding of what was going on. And indeed, the courage and strength that formed part of the eagle's nature had also taken root in DB's own soul, which made acceptance of the situation more tolerable.

As the months had gone by, DB had not just grown used to the soul's presence, but he had found himself growing attached to and even fond of the eagle. And it was this very fondness that made him shy away from using the soul's treasures as his own. He could sense that the eagle would gladly give him of all that it possessed, that its source of being could not be diminished. Yet, making use of those abilities made DB feel greedy and selfish – even if undertaken for the good of others, as in this case.

And so it was rare that he took the eagle up on its perpetual offering. And he had done everything in his power to hide the truth from his fellow troopers – even his captain. Why, the only reason Ajax knew was because DB had needed someone to confide in. It had been too great a gift to keep secret. He knew he could trust Ajax, and Ajax had proven himself worthy of that trust.

Now, as the eagle soul mounted skyward, DB could look down on where he and his friend were standing; and he felt that momentary sense of gratefulness that flitted across his awareness every time he allowed himself a chance to acknowledge just how good a friend Ajax was. There he stood, steady and alert, keeping an eye out if any of the enemy should approach while DB was otherwise engaged. Fearless, smart—a lot smarter than himself, DB was certain—and selfless to a fault. Yes, DB was fortunate to have someone like Ajax looking out for him.

Moments later, the eagle soul had traveled less than two kilometers when its precise vision detected a line of the enemy beneath the trees. Droids, this time around. And plenty of them. There seemed to be a never-ending supply. And sure enough, on a slightly raised berm and hidden in a heavy tree line, was a rapid-fire nest.

"That's what Fives wants us to take out?" he said out loud.

Ajax knew he wasn't looking for an answer, so he remained silent.

"I can probably get close enough to use the long gun," DB went on, as if speaking to himself. "But there's no way we'll get close enough to toss in any grenades. We'll have to pick them off one by one, sniper style – and fast. I hope your aim is on today, brother."

That last sentence was clearly meant for Ajax, and now he answered, "Never as on as yours, but I'll make my targets."

"DB and Ajax's comm just cut out," Denal announced.

Rex had also noticed that fact. It could mean trouble. Then again, it might only mean that the pair was taking precautionary measures not to have their signals detected by the enemy. Rex conducted a quick comm scan in his HUD; Hellcat and Blackie were still on the battalion-wide frequency. He was moving beyond frustration into anger.

"Fives, report. Why haven't you moved your platoon up?"

"We're reconning the situation right now, captain—"

"This isn't a recon mission, Fives. What's required here is firepower. Get your platoon up there now. That's an order."

"Captain, there are rapid-fire gun emplacements. We need to take those out first. I've sent two teams out to locate them and put them out of action."

"Fives, move your platoon up now."

"Captain, I can't do that. There's too much risk—"

"Corporal Appo, you are now in command of 4th platoon. Fives, you are being relieved of command."

Silence followed. The order was quite unexpected.

Fives, especially, felt the sting of the rebuke. Not from any sense of embarrassment, but because he had been dressed down for trying to protect his men. Damn! Rex, of all men, should be able to empathize with him.

"Fives, acknowledge."

"I acknowledge, Captain."

"Corporal Appo? Fin? You copy?"

"Yes, Captain," came the replies.

"Appo, get the platoon to Sixer's position and cover their retreat, and make it fast."

"Right away, Sir."

Denal looked at his captain. "I doubt that will go over well."

"It had to be done."

Denal nodded. "I hope it's not too late."

"Fives, we've located the gun emplacements. It's going to be impossible to get close enough to take them out without being detected. We're going to have to use good, old-fashioned sniper tactics." Double Barrel, back from his out-of-body trip, now reopened his channel and passed on what he had seen.

"DB, this is Appo," came the response. "Fives had been relieved of command. I'm in charge right now." He continued on while both DB and Ajax were still absorbing this sudden change of events. "We're heading due east right now. Can you give us a good location from which to cover Hoth's retreat?"

DB felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His breath trailed out in a sigh of relief. "Yes, I can. I definitely can." He made a quick calculation in his HUD and relayed the coordinates. "Ajax and I will meet up with you. Don't mistake us for the enemy."

"Just be careful," Appo warned. "There's already a lot of confusion, and there's going to be a lot of blaster fire in that area."

"Roger. We'll be careful." DB turned to Ajax. "Let's get moving."

Failure.

It wasn't a word that came easily from Rex's tongue. But it was a reality.

The battalion, as a whole, had been forced to retreat. Three of the 501's eight companies had lost more than 25 percent of their men. The rhydonium processing facility was still intact. Blowing it had not been an option, given the volatility of the gas. Intelligence had badly under-reported the number of droids guarding the facility, not to mention an assortment of indigenous forces who had known the lay of the land and how to make the most of it.

But Rex's unhappiness was nothing compared to General Skywalker's outrage.

"We should have been able to take that facility." His face was dark and his voice teetering on the edge of explosive as he spoke aboard the retreating gunship he now shared with Rex and two dozen other troopers. "In the entire planetary-wide battle, we had one mission: to take the facility." His glower deepened. "How did they know where we'd be coming from?"

"I don't know, General," Rex replied. "We've had spies before. Maybe we have another one."

"If we do, he's going to wish he were never born," Anakin seethed. "We lost a lot of men down there – all because the enemy knew what we were going to do."

"It's possible our communications were intercepted," Denal stated. "Or we were fed false intel. The Seppies are getting more clever at finding ways to deliver defeats."

"Then we have to get more clever at finding ways to outsmart them," came the heated reply. "And a good start will be insisting that battalion commanders get to draw up their own battle plans."

Rex had known this was coming. From the moment the battle of Denkendar had been brought up as a possibility, General Skywalker had not liked the way things had progressed. He'd been more than miffed that the 501st had, from the outset, been relegated to a protective role, providing security for the 8016th Demolitions Squadron. The 501st was a spear point unit, not a support actor.

And on top of that, every detail of the assault, down to the approach vectors, weaponry, and rules of enegagement, had been decided—hammered out, actually—between the Jedi Council and the Ministry of Defense. Normally, the upper echelons left it to their field commanders to formulate a strategy and plan of attack. But due solely to the presence of rhydonium, the leadership had felt it necessary to pull the strings and guide the ropes on this mission.

Now, what did they have to show for it?

Abject failure. And a lot of bodies.

It was times like this when Rex liked to fall back on his "simple soldier" defense. He might fully agree with his Jedi General – and in, fact, he did; but he also knew it was not prudent to fuel the general's ire, especially as of late. Skywalker's already-short fuse seemed to have been trimmed even shorter.

Rex knew there were reasons why, though mysterious and beyond the world of "simple soldiers."

Strange things had happened. Witches, beings of light and dark, possessions, reincarnations . . . none of which Rex had witnessed first-hand, but of which he'd heard plenty of eye-witness accounts, not the least of which had come from Ahsoka . . .

Whatever the genesis of such events, one thing was clear. Their overall effect was to turn General Skywalker closer to his role as General and further from his role as Jedi. That suited Rex fine, but he could not help but wonder how the Council felt about it, for surely they had noticed the change, as well. And Rex was well aware that, in the past, the Council had not valued Skywalker's worth as they should. The captain had always felt a sense of indignation on behalf of his general over the perceived sleight.

"It doesn't sound like they're having much luck on any of the fronts," Denal went on. "This may be a planet-wide defeat for the Republic."

The conversation continued between the two – General Skywalker was never averse to discussing matters with any of his troops; but Rex held his silence. The truth was that the largeness of the defeat, the totality of the world-wide battle, was not on his mind at the moment.

There was nothing he could do about dead men. There was nothing he could do about the decisions made by hologram war choreographers ensconced safely back on Coruscant.

But there was one thing over which he did have control.

And it was not a problem that was going to go away . . . unless he took action.

Yet, while foremost on his mind, it was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"Sorry to disturb you, Captain."

"Fin. Well, it took even less time than I thought it would."

"But we need to talk to you. It's important."

"Sixer. It must be serious. Yeah, it's serious. I already knew that."

"Come in," Rex said, stepping back from the door to his cabin. "It must be urgent if you two felt you needed to come to my personal quarters to talk to me."

"Well, Sir, I think you know why we're here," Sixer ventured.

"It's about Fives," Fin added.

Rex nodded slowly.

Fin went on. "Put bluntly, he's become impossible, Captain. Ever since Echo was killed, it's like—like a large part of Fives went with him. He's insubordinate, overly cautious, even downright defiant."

"The only reason any of my company is alive right now is because Jesse brought his company in and saved our asses," Sixer stated. "So, while I like Fives very much as a friend and brother-in-arms, right now, he's the last man I want guarding my flank. He's just become unreliable."

Rex sighed. "I know." Yes, he did know. He knew better than either of them. He'd known for weeks. He'd proceeded on the hope that time would heal the damage Echo's death had done to Fives. But he could no longer afford to strategize on hope.

"Neither of us has any suggestions of what to do about him," Sixer went on. "But . . . he needs to come off the line, Captain. If you hadn't pulled him from command, you'd have lost an entire company."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Fin said, truly contrite. "We all like Fives, but he's . . . well, he's messed up right now, and he's not doing anyone any good. Maybe . . . maybe he needs some time to pull himself together. I know we clones have a reputation for being . . . unmovable, but even a clone has his breaking point."

"It's not the stress of battle, Captain," Six concluded. "It's the pain of losing Echo. Fives isn't afraid to confront the enemy. He's afraid of losing anyone along the way."

Everything they were saying only solidified in Rex's mind the things he already knew; but to hear such accounts from two of his company commanders meant that situation had probably become visible to the entire battalion; and that was not good for morale or victory.

"I appreciate the two of you coming to me," Rex acknowledged. "And I appreciate your honesty. I'll handle it in the way I think is best."

"Yes, Sir," both men replied together, then Sixer said thoughtfully, "I hope we haven't created a dilemma for you, Captain."

"There's a dilemma alright," Rex conceded. "But you're not the ones who created it."

Just after 2000 hours.

Now was as good a time as any. Actually, it would be more fitting to say, now was as bad a time as any.

But it had to be done. There was no sense in delaying.

Rex raised his wrist comm; but before he had a chance to speak, the door buzzed.

Opening the door, he was surprised to see Fives standing on the threshold. Yet, he thought wryly that it had saved him a summons.

"Fives."

"Do you have a minute, Captain? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Rex moved to one side. "Come in." He did not tell Fives that he had been just about to call him to his quarters.

Fives walked inside, stood with his back to his captain for a few courage-gathering seconds, then turned and spoke quickly and resolutely. "I'd like to request a transfer to another unit."

Rex looked at him for a long moment of silence. At last, he said, "May I ask why?"

Fives sighed audibly. "Captain, you know why. I can't . . . I can't stay in the 501st anymore. I can't be with these men." He paused. "Every single one of them just makes me think of Echo. This was our battalion. Jango was our company. This unit and these guys were the only things that mattered to us after what happened on Rishi. And I . . . I made the same mistake I made as a Shinie. I'm too close. They've become too important." He could no longer look his captain in the eye. "I'm too afraid of making a mistake and costing even one of them his life."

Rex waited expectantly. He knew there was more to the story.

Fives seemed to struggle with his captain's silence, as if he'd been hoping for some kind of prompt to continue. The silence itself turned out to be that very prompt.

"I know the rest of them aren't very happy with me right now," Fives confessed. "I can't blame them. I'm not very happy with myself either, but you know that I can't . . . "

Here it comes.

"I can't just throw the lives of my platoon mates away if I think there might be a better way."

And this was the crux of it, just as Rex had suspected. It wasn't simply that Echo's death had made Fives fearful of needless deaths. It had wormed into him the idea, the necessity, that any mission, any order needed to be scrutinized and evaluated within his own personal standards of acceptability.

And this was a dangerous thing – not only for Fives, but for those very men he was trying to protect and the mission they were tasked to accomplish.

Rex chided himself. He should have seen this coming. Fives had long had an independent streak. That independence had, in the beginning, manifested itself in a propensity for Fives to prefer his own company (and that of Echo) to the company of others. He had been content to see himself as one of a pair within a battalion of 800 men. It had taken many months for that somewhat superior sense of isolation to pass; and its passing had more to do with Echo's ready melding into the 501st than any actions undertaken by members of the battalion. For as odd as it seemed, Echo had always been the one to set the course for the two survivors of Domino Squad. Echo, though somewhat awkward and often irritating with his penchant for the verbatim recitation of information both significant and trivial, had always been an easier fit, more outgoing, and with a genuine interest in every fact, detail, story and possibility, endearing him to others even as it spurred their impatience.

Echo had loved knowledge for its own sake. He'd found fascination in other people and creatures for their own sakes. In some strange way, the rigid Echo of the rulebook had actually possessed a great capacity for adaptability and change. Echo, without Fives, would have continued to be Echo as he had always been.

Fives, on the other hand, had always been a man in search of meaning. Soldiering had never been a satisfactory answer for him. The closest he'd ever come to finding purpose in fighting was on Kamino, defending his home world. The other source of meaning for Fives had been Echo. Echo's tendency to approach every situation with full intention and vigor had been strong enough that it had carried Fives along with it. It would not be inaccurate to say that Echo had been the motivating and stabilizing force in Fives' life after the loss of the rest of the squad.

Echo's loss had removed the constraints on Fives' more pessimistic and lugubrious side, and it was that set of characteristics that was now starting to come to the forefront.

Fives, without Echo, was once again a man in search of meaning, an unsettled soul.

And at the moment, a liability to the battalion.

"It's reasonable to want to make sure you're taking all the right courses of action," Rex said evenly. "But you're a corporal, Fives; and you have a company commander. And a battalion first-in-command. You can't decide to disobey orders just because you don't like them. And transferring to another unit isn't going to change that. The chain-of-command isn't something you can throw away whenever you want."

"Maybe I need something where I can be . . . more autonomous," Fives suggested.

"Such as?"

"One of the ARC battalions." Fives almost acted as if he feared his captain would reject the idea out-of-hand, so he went on quickly, "They send out their troops on special missions all the time. They send out loaners. It—it would make it easier not to, uh . . . not to get attached to the guys. Just in for the mission and then out."

Rex leaned back against his desk. "Those are highly competitive slots."

"You could put in a good word for me," Fives replied. "You and General Skywalker. Commander Cody. General Kenobi." He was almost plaintive. "Captain, please. It's not good for the battalion for me to remain here. And it's not good for me."

"Are you sure this is what you want? This isn't just because of Echo's death?"

Fives spoke with resolve. "It is because of Echo. But it won't get any better if I stay here. I need a transfer, Captain. I need a chance to clear my head."

Rex could not help but feel a sense of sadness; still, he could not disagree with anything Fives had said. In fact, Fives had done him a favor by bringing up the subject on his own.

"If it's what you really want, I'll see what I can do."

"It's what I have to do. It'll be best for everybody."

"Very well." Rex straightened up. "Just keep this under your helmet until I see if I can swing it."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Huh, don't thank me," Rex replied. And he meant it. When he'd been about to summon Fives to his quarters, it was with the intention of a full dressing-down, complete with the threat of disciplinary action.

Now, five minutes later, he was on the verge of losing a hand-picked soldier, an ARC trooper he himself had field-appointed. And all he felt was a vague sense of defeat and resignation, the recognition that this just might be the only viable solution.

The filamentary guilt that, somehow, he had let Fives down.

So, I had to get Fives out of the battalion, because when Umbara starts, Fives mentions to Rex, "Just like old times." It's clear in Umbara that Fives has been away from the 501st for a while, so I had to set that up. Of course, in Umbara, Fives doesn't know Jesse or Hardcase (which is ridiculous because they were in the same battalion for quite some time - but I'll deal with that in writing the next chapter). So, I needed to get Fives out of the 501st, and I thought this was the best way to do it. And it will help lay the groundwork for his actions on Umbara. For my Fives' fans, I hope you don't think I was too rough on him. I love Fives, but I had to make him just "damaged" enough that he had to move on for his own sake and the sake of the battalion.

Also, a note . . . I hope you all remember the eagle that saved DB when the taber was destroyed. It makes an appearance (sort of) in this chapter.