Dear Reader, I apologize for the long delay, but I had a decision to make. I was going to go into an ARC about Saber Squad and even posted one chapter (which I have since removed). But in light of the upcoming Season 7, I wanted to get my main story completed as soon as possible so that I don't have to reconcile a bunch of things with any changes that might come out in Season 7. I'll be happy to tweak it afterwards, but I want my original storyline to get out there based on how things were at the end of Season 6 (and with The Lost Missions and the Bad Batch). So, here I'm wrapping up Umbara and will be moving pretty quickly through the Tup/Fives/chip arc, the "Distant Echo" bit and into what were my final ideas. So, Saber Squad's back story will have to wait!
I hope you enjoy.
Peace, CS
Chapter 109 On the Edge of Looking Down
"I never knew pain felt so much like fear. You can't go back and change the beginning, and you can start where you are and change the ending."
C. S. Lewis
Rex had known this would be a difficult visit.
He knew what he was hoping for, but there were no promises to be made, no guarantees that he could offer. In fact, he didn't even know whether he himself was in for a great deal of trouble for his own indiscretions.
The platform stopped rotating and he found himself staring into Dogma's cell.
Dogma was staring back at him.
"Dogma."
"Captain."
Rex took a few slow, heavy steps forward. "I told General Kenobi what happened," Rex said. "The MPs will be here soon to take you back to Coruscant."
Dogma nodded slightly. "I guess they're going to court-martial me."
"I'm sure there'll be a trial," Rex replied. "But I'll do everything I can to get make sure you're acquitted. And once General Skywalker hears what happened, he'll come to your defense, as well." A pause. "I'm not exactly blameless in this, either. I may end up in the next cell."
"You did nothing wrong, Captain," Dogma frowned. "This was all my doing."
Rex felt humbled by Dogma's willingness to overlook the indisputable truth that it had been Rex's plan to execute General Krell in the first place. Dogma had only done what Rex had not had the courage to do.
"You're a good man, Dogma, a good soldier," Rex stated, adding emphatically, "And you did the Republic and the Jedi Order a big favor, even if they never realize it. The army needs more men like you."
"Thank you, Captain," Dogma said with a hint of self-consciousness. "I . . . I hope they see it the same way."
"I'm going to make it my duty to convince them of it," Rex replied. "In the meantime, don't give up. Stay strong."
"I will, Sir," Dogma said. "I know you'll try. I trust you. You're my captain."
"I'll be happy to get off this rock," Denal said with a rueful grimace.
"You and me, both," Sixer agreed. "I think you're speaking for all of us."
"It's going to take a lot of rebuilding," Denal went on. "We lost . . . at least half our men, maybe more."
"A lot of that was due to General Krell," Sixer stated, making no attempt to disguise his hatred. "Things would have been different if General Skywalker had been here."
"Why would the chancellor call him away when we're getting ready to go into one of our biggest battles so far? Everyone knew it was going to be a slug fest. That just . . . doesn't make any sense to me," Denal questioned.
"I guess he had his reasons," Sixer replied. "Which we'll probably never know."
"What do you think the general is going to say when he finds out what happened to us while he was gone? This will be devastating to him," Denal wondered out loud.
"That's hard to say," Sixer answered honestly. "You know how hard it is to predict General Skywalker. You think he's going to react one way or do one thing, and then he does something else. He'll be upset, no doubt." A pause that contained almost a whiff of trepidation. "But he'll also be angry, and it's the degree of that anger that . . . that we have to watch out for."
Denal gave a crooked grin. "You've noticed that, too? I'm just glad he's on our side. I'd hate to see that kind of rage looking at me as an enemy." A movement across the tarmac caught his eye. "Here comes Fives."
But Fives was not actually coming to see them. He was passing by on his way to the tower.
Yet, even in the murky light of the flight line, Denal and Sixer could see that something did not look right.
"Fek and all, Fives, what happened to your face?" Denal asked.
Since his confrontation with Top, Fives had endured the humiliating attention from other troopers who had seen the incident and its aftermath and offered their help . . .
. . . and Fives had not missed the somewhat smug satisfaction in the faces of those who had come to his aid or expressed their concern.
Top was well-known and well-liked, and it occurred to Fives that many of the 501st troopers would likely feel that Fives deserved some manner of retribution for the problems he had caused for Captain Rex. And Top, no longer fettered by being in the 501st chain-of-command, seemed the perfect deliverer.
These troopers beside whom he had been fighting only a day earlier were now silently scoffing at and rejecting him. The return of Top to their midst had made them toss aside Fives in favor of someone they knew and liked better.
Or at least, that was how Fives viewed the situation.
In fact, he could not have been more wrong. And as he now faced yet another inquiry about his bruised and swollen cheek, he saw no reason to be delicate in his response.
"I have Top to thank for it."
"Top? He's here?" Sixer asked.
"Yep."
"I didn't know that," Sixer said, a grin starting to form on his face. "Where did you see him?"
"In the comm center," Fives replied. "He came looking for me."
"What, uh, what does he have to do with this?" Denal asked, gesturing to his own face to indicate the injury done to Fives.
"He punched me," Fives replied. "We . . . had an exchange of words, and he let me have it."
"What for?" Sixer pressed, not satisfied with the explanation.
"He pretty much blames me for what happened to the battalion," Fives answered. "He blames me for Hardcase's death."
A long silence ensued.
"Apparently, you two agree with him," Fives put forth.
"You did what you thought was right at the time," Sixer said, not willing to cast aspersions but also not aiming to sugarcoat the truth. "You made some good decisions, and you made some bad ones."
Here, Denal, ever his captain's protector, spoke up with less diplomacy. "You disrespected Captain Rex on more than one occasion. No one's going to discount the ideas you had that helped salvage this battle. You're a great strategist, Fives. And you're a charismatic leader, but it takes more than charisma to carry the day."
Fives inclined his head with an air of indifference. "We won the battle for this planet. That's all that matters."
Sixer knew a falsehood when he heard one, and he could not help but feel a sense of sorrow on Fives' behalf. "Is that what you want us to believe?"
"I don't care if you believe it or not," Fives replied.
"Success comes at a cost," Sixer pointed out, adding with subdued emphasis. "We need to honor that cost." A pause. "The Citadel should have taught you that lesson."
The reference to the Citadel felt like a burning arrow straight into Fives' heart, and he stiffened visibly.
"That mission wasn't a success," he retorted pointedly. "And no one understands the cost of a poorly executed plan better than I do."
Denal sighed. "That's not the point, Fives. What we're trying to tell you is that . . . you can't discount the pain that others feel when they find out what they've lost."
Sixer placed a hand on Fives' shoulder, adding, "Don't forget . . . you lost it for a while after Echo's death. I'm not even really convinced that you're fully over it even now. But we all tried to be there for you. You need to give that same consideration to the rest of us. We all just lost . . . a lot of our friends."
"They were my friends, too," Fives rejoined. "This used to be my unit, too, you know."
"It could be again," Denal said in a suggestive voice.
Sixer nodded in agreement.
Fives was stunned into silence.
"I think you want to be back with us," Sixer said. "I think you want . . . a home again." A pause. "And we'd be glad to have you back."
After a brief silence, Fives replied, "What would make you think I want to come back to the 501st?"
Sixer shrugged. "Just a gut feeling."
The possibility flashed before Fives' eyes. And he could not deny that it was a prospect that appealed to him. But it seemed unlikely.
"Even if I wanted to come back, I don't think, after what happened here, that Rex—Captain Rex—would ever want me back in the 501st," Fives replied, surprising himself by catching his own self-correction after Top had pointed out the familiarity of his address.
"Maybe, but you won't know if you don't ask him," Denal stated. "The captain is pragmatic. You're an ARC trooper. The 501st is short on ARCs. He knows you. He knows what you can do."
"You just need to rein in some of your, uh, stubbornness," Sixer chided. "Allow for the fact you may be wrong from time to time."
"And don't question the captain in front of the troops," Denal added. "You do have a problem with . . . insubordination."
"Now, you sound like Top," Fives said.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Denal grinned.
"It wasn't meant as one," Fives grimaced. "He's a loose cannon."
Both Sixer and Denal could not suppress their amusement.
"You should know all about that," Sixer grinned.
"I'm not the one who punched him," Fives reminded them. "He hit me."
Sixer's grin widened. "And I'll bet you deserved it."
Top drew in a deep breath.
It was time to get up. He'd been sitting here with Kix long enough – almost an hour. Saying nothing. Valuing the chance just to be together, side-by-side like earlier days. But the past could not intrude into the present, and he could not sit here forever.
"I need to go find the rest of my men," he announced. "I need to head back to the med center."
Beside him, Kix got to his feet and held out his hand. "I think I'll go with you."
Top accepted the hand up. "To the med center. Not the mortuary, right?"
Kix nodded. "I'll be of more use in the med center." A pause. "I needed to be in the mortuary, Top. I'm not sure why, but I needed to be there – for a while, at least."
"Well . . . you weren't looking too good when I found you there," Top stated.
"I know," came the self-conscious reply. "But . . . I feel better for having been there." A pause. "I just needed you to get me out."
"Which should have been Jesse's job—"
"Promise me something," Kix interrupted. "Promise me you'll talk to him and smooth things over before you leave."
"I don't know if he wants things to be smoothed over," Top replied. "I feel like . . . he despises me. And I, uh, I didn't do anything to help change his mind in that respect."
"But you still have time," Kix replied. "You two are—are all I have left. I don't want you hating each other."
"I don't hate him—"
"That's what you need to tell him," Kix insisted.
Top frowned and nodded. "I'll try. I'll try." A pause. "We're both headed for the med center. Let's go."
The flight line had grown very busy.
The support units were still arriving.
The medical transports were starting to make evacuations.
Rex stood just inside the doors of the west hangar. He'd been watching the comings and goings for the past thirty minutes.
A peculiar malaise was overtaking him. He was starting to feel exhausted. The adrenaline had worn off hours ago, and now the sense of duty and the necessity of orchestrating the immediate aftermath of the battle was wearing off as the reinforcements came in to take over the theater of operations.
The horror of what had transpired here was sinking in . . .
. . . and being transferred out before him on hover gurneys and old-fashioned litters.
There were troopers still working.
501st, 212th, 808th . . .
To Rex's eye, they all appeared as if they were going through the motions, moving through a fog, hurting and exhausted just like he was, catching a few seconds' rest whenever and wherever they could.
"Captain?"
Rex turned to see Jesse standing behind him. "What is it, Lieutenant?"
"I've finished the inventories," Jesse replied gravely. "We lost 70% of our heavy equipment. Remaining munitions for all weapons is at about 8%." He hesitated to prepare himself for what was coming next. "We were at 780 men when the battle began. We have . . . 282 confirmed dead. 321 injured. 48 missing. 129 able-bodied for duty."
A coldness filled Rex's veins. Across the tarmac was a trio of soldiers leaning against a stack of transport boxes. They looked as if they'd been through hell. And the truth was, they had.
"Are those men part of the able-bodied?" Rex asked, his voice bordering on bitterness.
Jesse swallowed. "Yes, Sir."
Rex was silent.
At that moment, they were joined by Tup.
"Captain, Jesse," he greeted them evenly. "I, uh, I just came from the cell block."
Rex knew what underlied that statement. He'd seen the 289th Military Police Battalion's arrival earlier, and known that it was only a matter of time before the prisoners would begin being led out and loaded into the transport.
"You saw Dogma?" Jesse inquired.
"Yeah." It was clear Tup was preoccupied and disheartened. "I wanted to make sure he knows that . . . I believe in him, and I'll be waiting for him when he comes back."
"You think he'll be acquitted?" Jesse inquired.
"He's no more guilty than the rest of us," Tup said. "We're the ones who came up with the idea. If he's guilty, so are we."
"We're going to do everything we can to stand by him," Rex stated firmly. "And let's not forget that we're not all off the hook either."
In the next moment, the MP detail appeared escorting Dogma to the ship.
Tup watched for several seconds before turning to Jesse. "What were our final losses?"
It struck Jesse as a strange thing that Tup would look for a distraction in these last waning seconds of seeing his squad mate, but he said nothing other than to answer Tup's questions.
Dogma looked back over his shoulder, his piercing gaze meeting the soft remorse of his captain's eyes. The Shinie gave a minute nod of affirmation, a way of saying that he was not sorry for what he'd done, that he trusted his captain, and that he had not given in to despair.
Rex returned the nod with one of his own, confirming the bond between them – a bond that had taken him by surprise. General Skywalker had been right when he'd said that Dogma reminded him of Rex. It was a good comparison, and one that Rex found himself embracing even as he wondered what had ever happened to that eager, fearless young officer he himself had once been. Dogma had brought that faded image back into clearer relief, if only for a few short days.
"General Kenobi's battalion has routed the last holdouts of Umbarans. And we've secured all sectors."
Rex turned towards the sound of Fives' voice. He'd known, when Cody and General Kenobi had rolled into the airbase, that element of their battalion had still been out mopping out; so, this report was good news.
"We did it," Fives went on. "We took Umbara."
Rex could not even feign satisfaction. All he felt was a heavy sadness. He watched as the trio of soldiers opposite him helped each up and back to work, three men worn out and having only each other to turn to.
Three of the able-bodied.
Struggling. Shattered. Pressing on with what little strength remained in them.
It was the first time Rex did not have an uplifting word for his men. Not even an uplifting thought. All was darkness.
Just like Umbara itself.
"What's the point of all of this? I mean . . . why?" He'd spoken aloud, but he hadn't been asking for a response. It was as if his thoughts could not be contained. There was so much pain inside that there was no room for contemplation. Questions could only be pushed out with the doubts they generated.
He certainly hadn't been expecting an answer, but Fives spoke with remarkable calmness.
"I don't know, Sir. I don't think anybody knows. But I do know that one day this war is going to end."
Rex was not as certain. "Then what? We're soldiers. What happens to us then?"
To hear this coming from their captain was more than disconcerting. Rex had always been the bulwark. Even after the trials of Umbara, he'd never lost his almost mythical aura as the greatest clone captain ever to serve in the GAR. He'd never expressed uncertainty or defeat, but that's how he sounded now.
"I guess we'll face that when the time comes," Fives offered tepidly. "Who knows how many of us will still be alive when this is over?"
Rex turned his head to offer some manner of acknowledgment. In the subdued light of the flight line, he saw a bruise darkening the side of Fives' face.
"What happened to your face?"
Fives felt his temperature go up a notch. "I had a little . . . disagreement with someone."
"Top?"
Fives nodded.
Jesse stepped forward. "You got into a fight with him?"
"No, nothing like that," Fives replied quickly. "It was just one swing. We both lost our tempers, and . . . I can't really blame him. He was hurting . . . a lot." He gave Jesse a sincere look. "He needs you."
Jesse drew in a deep breath. "Yeah. I know." As he spoke, his wrist comm sounded. "This is Jesse."
"Lieutenant, this is Major Hypes. I need you down here in the med center – as soon as you can get here."
"Is everything alright?"
"Just . . . hurry up and get over here."
"I'm on my way," Jesse replied. "Captain, you'll excuse me."
"Go on," Rex replied. "Let me know if it ends up being something I should be informed about."
"Yes, Sir."
The moment Top and Kix entered the med center, Scree approached them. Speaking to Kix, he asked, "Where have you been? I've been trying to comm you for the past twenty minutes at least. I thought you were down in the mortuary."
"I'm sorry, Scree," Kix replied. "I turned off my comm. I just—I needed a little bit of a break. I shouldn't have done that." A pause. "What did you need?"
Instead of answering, Scree stepped aside and looked towards the left side of the room, an action that prompted both Kix and Top to follow suit.
Kix breath caught in his throat, and before he knew it, he was being pulled across the room by Top.
They were met by Slider who stopped them only long enough to flash a warning smile and say, "Don't overdo it."
Just beyond Slider, lying on a litter on the floor, was Pitch.
He was fully conscious and appeared to be resting comfortably.
Both Kix and Top dropped to their knees beside him.
KIx reached out and gripped his squad mate's hand in both of his. "Pitch . . . thank all the powers that be, you're still alive. We thought—we thought you were dead."
Pitch managed a tired but genuine smile. "I almost was. If it wasn't for Slider, we all would have died." He then noticed Top for the first time. "Well . . . I'll be damned. Top . . . Top."
Top ran his gloved hand over Pitch's head. "Explosives man."
"You're going to start crying, aren't you?" Pitch teased.
"I will if I want to," Top retorted. "I thought you were dead, too."
"Where have you been all this time?" Kix asked.
"Slider found a . . . it was like a huge warren underground," Pitch replied. "Him and a couple other troopers got all of us in there, and then it was blocked off. The whole opening was completely covered during the fighting, and then our communications equipment couldn't get through whatever was in the rocks. We ended up having to get attention the old-fashioned way – by making as much noise as we could. They finally found us and dug us out. Slider kept us alive that whole time. He was amazing."
"You're amazing," Top said, his voice brimming with emotion.
Pitch was uncharacteristically bashful. "Over-reacting, as usual."
"I don't think so," Top disagreed.
"I'll say this," Pitch went on. "If I needed more proof that there really is a god, this was it."
Kix squeezed his hand. "You're going to end up leaving us and going back to Bertegad to be a monk."
"Maybe . . . when the war is over," Pitch replied. "But until then, I want to be with you guys. I plan to recover quickly." He looked at Top. "What are you doing here? Are you back with the 501st? You're not wearing the right colors."
"No, a company for the 808th was sent to help," Top replied. "I'm here to check up on them."
Pitch gave a wistful sigh. "I thought maybe you'd come back to us."
"We can talk about that later," Top replied. "Right now, you need to just rest and . . . fek, let us be happy you're still alive."
A few seconds of silence passed, then Kix said carefully, "There is something we need to tell you."
Pitch picked up right away on the tone of voice and the grave expression. "It sounds like you have bad news."
Kix exhaled heavily. "Hardcase is dead."
After a painful silence, Pitch asked softly, "Are you sure?"
Kix nodded. "Yes, I'm sure." He proceeded to explain the whole scenario, concluding, "His action brought this battle to a quicker end. By taking out the supply ship, he made it harder for the Umbarans to keep fighting."
Pitch absorbed this with the limited energy his injuries would allow. His eyes began to grow glassy but he maintained his composure. He was too exhausted for grief, under the influence of too much painkiller for the hurt to infiltrate fully. It was something that was held at arm's length – for now, at least.
"What about Jesse?"
"I'm right here."
All eyes turned towards the sound of the voice.
"Jesse . . . "
Jesse, like Kix and Top, knelt down beside Pitch. He put a hand on his shoulder. "This is a fekking miracle."
Pitch grinned. "I thought you didn't believe in miracles."
"I'm changing my mind," Jesse replied. "The fact that any of us are still alive is a miracle." He raised his eyes to regard Top across Pitch's body. "And it's a miracle that . . . we're all together again. Even . . . even Hardcase is here."
Kix looked at his three remaining squad mates, and even in the light of their loss, he felt the most contentment he'd felt in many months. Hardcase's death had done was nothing else could. The squad was healing.
Cody could tell Rex was suffering.
Suffering in ways that had nothing to do with physical injury.
And he feared things would only get worse as more details of what had happened here came to light.
The commander knew Rex would never make a rash decision, but he was capable of making a mistake. What had happened to General Krell might have been a mistake. Or it might have been a calculated risk. But one thing Cody felt sure of: Rex had done what he'd considered his only option. The situation had been so drastic that he'd been driven to incredible measures.
Now, as Cody stood at the edge of the tarmac, watching Rex moving almost aimlessly across the space between the hangars, he could tell that his friend was as close to collapse as he'd ever been.
But help was coming.
"Rex?"
Rex turned to see Cody approaching.
"Commander."
"Looks like things are pretty well in hand," Cody remarked.
Rex nodded vaguely. "Looks that way."
"And you look like you're ready to be relieved."
Rex made a dismissive sound. "There's no one left to relieve me."
"Relief units are on their way," Cody told him. "Once they arrive, the 501st will get to stand down."
"That'll be good," Rex said disinterestedly, turning away on a pretense of watching the arrival of yet another medical transport.
Cody stepped up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "General Skywalker is on his way back."
This brought Rex around fully to face him. "You heard that?"
Cody nodded. "General Kenobi told me."
Rex was hesitant. "Does he know what happened?"
"I'm not sure of everything General Kenobi told him," Cody replied, "But I'm sure he told him some of the details."
Rex looked down, and if Cody weren't mistaken, he'd swear there was a nervousness in his manner.
"He's going to be furious," Rex breathed.
"Not with you," Cody assured him.
"His battalion is . . . obliterated," Rex said, shaking his head. "He left me in charge—"
"General Krell was in charge," Cody reminded him.
But Rex was not going to absolve himself so readily.
"I should have known," he lamented, shaking his head and turning to take a few steps away, as if the meager distance could somehow disguise his anguish. "I should have known better. I did know better. There was something off about General Krell from the very beginning, but . . . I followed him every step of the way – even against my better judgment."
"You did what a first-in-command is supposed to do," Cody pointed out. "You gave him options. And once he decided against those options and moved ahead on his own course of action, you supported him." Cody closed the distance between them. "Your men have told me what happened. Not one of them places any of the blame for this at your feet. They knew you were in a tough spot, and they think you did the best job anyone could do under the circumstances."
"I'm not sure General Skywalker will share their view," Rex replied.
"There's no one General Skywalker admires more in the entire GAR than he does you," Cody said assuredly. "I feel confident in saying that, not only will he credit you with saving what's left of the battalion, but he'll be on your side about your decision regarding General Krell."
Rex turned to face his long-time friend, and there was a gauzy look of desperation in his eyes that could not be hidden, despite every attempt. "Cody . . . what if there are other Jedi—what if Krell wasn't the only one?"
Cody was taken aback by the question, and he had no ready answer. At last, he offered half-heartedly, "I think that's something better left to the Jedi Council—"
"The Jedi Council wasn't able to sniff out Krell," Rex protested. "They had no idea what he was. Or, if they did have their suspicions, they never should have put him in charge of troops." He lowered his voice and drew close. "The Council has refused time and again to make General Skywalker one of its members. Don't you think—doesn't that make you wonder why? We can all see he's one of the greatest Jedi alive. Why would they keep refusing to make him a member of the Council?"
Admittedly, Cody had wondered the same thing on more than one occasion, and the answer was as elusive to him as it was to Rex. But faced with the question now, he wondered if Rex's interest in the matter might not be leading him down a dangerous path.
"I'm sure they have their reasons," he replied with equanimity.
"What if one of those reasons is because there's more corruption in the Jedi ranks than we know?" Rex pressed.
Yes. Dangerous path. Definitely.
Cody had to put a stop to this – right now, with finality.
"Rex, you can't let what happened here change the way you look at all Jedi," the commander warned. "These are our leaders, our generals. They've been with us from the start – out front, showing the way. Are you going to decide that the actions of one Jedi speak for them all? Are you going to stop trusting General Kenobi? Master Yoda? What if tomorrow the Council decides to admit General Skywalker? Will you start doubting him? Rex, you know that doesn't make any sense."
"The Jedi Council has made some bad decisions, Cody," Rex replied. "You know that—"
"They've made some decisions that weren't . . . military-minded," Cody conceded. "That's because they're not soldiers—"
"General Skywalker is as much a soldier as we are—"
"You know what I mean, Rex," the commander said pointedly. "Leading the troops was never something the Jedi wanted or planned to do. But when we were created and the war began, they took that task upon themselves. They could have gone off into contemplation in some isolated place, but they didn't. They stayed to fight for the Republic. We may not agree with every decision they make; but we don't have to agree in order to obey." He took his tone down a notch, switching to the manner of a friend. "Rex, you've always been loyal to the Republic and . . . well, for lack of a better word, devoted to General Skywalker. Whatever happened here . . . you have to put it behind you and move on. I'm not saying to forget what happened. I'm not saying to discount the lives lost. But if you want all those men's deaths to have meaning, you can't get mired in doubt and distrust. If you falter, then faith is lost with all the men who died, not only here, but in every battle up to this point and every battle yet to come."
Rex regarded him steadily. "That's a heavy burden."
"That's why some of us have stronger shoulders than others. It's part of being in command," Cody replied. "You've known that for a long time."
Rex counted himself among the lucky ones. Lucky in that he had Cody to sift through all the osik and get to the crux of what mattered. Lucky in that he could show doubt and indecision to the commander and not be deemed weak or incompetent. Lucky that in the midst of chaos, when the horizon seemed to hold only a bleak future, he had a friend whose irrepressible nature could find the point on that terminus by which to best navigate to safety.
"You taught me that, Commander, way back in ARC training," he said earnestly, pausing thoughtfully. "You know . . . earlier I was . . . wondering what had ever happened to that lieutenant in ARC training. All that daring and fearlessness. The excitement he used to carry with me all the time, as if every battle was a chance to prove myself and test my skills." A pause. "Did he get so weighed down by the burden of command that . . . every move became a struggle?"
Cody grinned. "I think he's still as alive and pushy as ever." He began walking back towards the command post, and Rex went with him. "I think he's just come off the worst fighting he's seen so far, and he's got good reason to be angry about it. And maybe, just maybe, experience has helped him temper the firebrand a bit." He put a hand on Rex's back. "And right about now, if he's anything like me, he hasn't eaten in over 24 hours. They're handing out SeMe's outside the command post." SeMe stood for Sealed Meals – instant meals that tasted only marginally better than a nutrient bar but at least offered different textures for a bored palate.
"I could use a bite," Rex agreed. "I don't want to brief General Skywalker on an empty stomach."
"You're next, buddy," Kix said, observing the approach of the medevac team.
Pitch groaned but not from pain. "I hate to leave you guys."
"It won't be for too long," Kix said with surety. "A few weeks and you'll be as good as new."
"A lot can happen in a few weeks," Pitch replied.
"Don't worry about that," Jesse chided. "Just focus on getting better. Things won't be the same until you're back."
Pitch took that statement as an opening. "Well, if you're going to talk about people coming back, you two need to work on getting this guy to come back."
Top took it in stride. "It's more important that you come back."
"You're dodging the subject," Pitch challenged.
The arrival of the evacuation team forced the other members of Saber Squad to relinquish their positions. Pitch was maneuvered onto a hover gurney, and now the time for good-byes was at hand.
"We'll be waiting," Jesse said, reaching out for one last grip.
"Make sure you do what the doctors tell you," Kix added. "Don't do anything stupid."
Pitch simpered.
Top leaned over, forehead-to-forehead. "Whatever god you believe in these days . . . tell him thanks from me."
"You just told him yourself," Pitch replied. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And think about what I said earlier. We all want you back."
Top drew back. "I think about it every day."
The three of them watched as their fourth was taken aboard the medevac, out of sight, and away from battle. For several weeks, at least.
"You know, uh . . . I agree with him," Jesse said quietly.
"So do I," Kix agreed.
"About what?" Top asked, his manner mildly petulant in anticipation of what was to come.
"We want you to come back." The words, from Jesse, were spoken simply, with a straightforward inflection. There was no pleading, no cajoling, no guilt-inducing, no mourning.
Top sighed but he opted for a tactic he felt would be harder to defend against. "You'd all go crazy if you had to be around me day in and day out again."
"You drove us crazy before, and we never minded," Kix quipped.
"Enh, that's because you didn't know any better, but now you've seen what it can be like to have some peace and—"
"Top." Jesse was serious, even solemn. "We need you."
"Jesse . . . "
"Look, you went to the 808th because they'd been demolished and they needed a new first-in-command," Jesse went on. "Now, the 501st is facing that same scenario. We've been demolished—"
"But you still have your first-in-command," Top interrupted. "And he's a better officer than I could ever hope to be—"
"Top . . . come back." Jesse would not wax eloquent or enumerate the reasons why he wanted his squad mate to return to the 501st. He was pretty sure Top already knew those reasons.
But were they enough?
"I—can't leave the 808th," Top said regretfully. "They—I'm to them what Captain Rex is to the 501st. They trust me. I can't cut out on them." He looked from Jesse to Kix and back. "You . . . you two could always request a transfer. You could come to the 808th, and then we'd be together again."
"We couldn't do that," Jesse rejected. "The 501st is our home."
"That's how I feel about the 808th," Top replied. "They're my battalion, my home. I could no more turn my back on them than you could turn your back on the 501st."
Jesse lowered his gaze. "I did turn my back."
Top stepped up, eager to make his point. "That's because you let yourself be drawn in by something attractive, something that let you have what you wanted instead of taking you where your duty was."
"You can't blame this on Fives—"
"Bah, this has nothing to do with Fives! Fives was just the excuse," Top pressed. "You told me yourself, you wanted a break from leading, from taking responsibility for men's lives . . . as if you can't handle that without me at your side. But you had Kix and Pitch . . . you had Hardcase. You had Sixer and Sempe and DB. They all were there to help you. What? Do you think I do everything on my own? Fek . . . I lean on everyone around me. They help keep me focused on my duty."
Jesse listened to this impassioned explanation, yet the words, spoken with warmth and truth, were not wholly applicable to the situation.
Jesse would just have to make it as simple as possible.
"That's all good advice, Top, but none of that hits the point."
"What point? What is the point?"
Kix, sensing that the rift between his two squad mates might be on the verge of either a full rending or a repair attempt, decided this was a good time to remove himself from the vicinity. "I'm going to see if the med teams need my help. Top . . . make sure you don't leave without saying goodbye."
"I'll find you before I go," Top replied.
No sooner had Kix moved out of earshot than Top turned his full attention to Jesse once more. "Okay, so you said I'm missing the point. What the hell is the point? I can't come back, and I know you understand that. Why do you keep at me about it?"
"I miss you being around," Jesse replied quietly. "Fek knows why, because you sure know how to be an asshole, but you want to know why I hate you being gone. That's why. I miss you."
Top, at a loss for words, stared at him for a long moment. It was moving thing for him to hear, something he had not expected . . . but perhaps he should have. An emotional attachment hung about the very idea that Jesse missed him – especially after the blowup they'd had earlier. And on top of that, Top had already given in to several other outbursts on this visit. He could try to allay this one with a bit of humor. At last, he exclaimed, "So all that osik I just blurted out, all my pearls of wisdom were for nothing?"
"No, they weren't for nothing," Jesse replied. "They just weren't . . . what I was hoping you'd say."
"You want me to say I'm coming back—"
"I already knew that wasn't going to happen," Jesse admitted.
"Then what? What else can I say?"
Jesse scowled. "You may be a captain, first-in-command, but I hope you're not this big an idiot with the 808th."
Top was genuinely confused. "You—you want me to say you can come to the 808th? I can say yes from my end, but you know only Captain Rex can—"
"Can't you say that you miss us, too?"
Top raised his brows in surprise. "I've said that a hundred times! A thousand times! Every time we have a fekking holocon, I tell you guys how much I miss you! Honestly, Jesse, I don't get how you can even say . . . "
Then he saw it. Subtle but unmistakable.
This wasn't about Saber Squad. This wasn't about the 501st or the 808th. This wasn't even really about Top's going to the 808th.
This was about the friendship between him and Jesse.
Their shared responsibility within Saber Squad, within their platoon, and within the 501st had, of necessity, forged a bond between two leaders of opposing styles. They'd envied each other's strengths and covered for each other's weaknesses. The passage of time had revealed that, while Top had more in common with Hardcase personality-wise, it was Jesse to whom Top had always turned to provide the backbone of straight and solid advice and support. Top's brotherly love extended to all his squad mates, and he loved each one in a different way. He could never have shown Hardcase the tenderness he was able to extend to Kix and Pitch. And he had always reserved his most cherished expressions of respect for Jesse, the squad mate who had always asked for and needed it the least.
In Top's estimation, Jesse had embodied everything he himself aspired to be. He was decisive, disciplined, able to motivate the men, well-liked, and brilliant at everything he did. That was why he'd been chosen as second-in-command of the most prestigious unit in the GAR. Captain Rex had seen fit to appoint Jesse as his right hand, and as far as Top was concerned, there couldn't have been a better choice.
And Top, like the rest of his squad mates, had been determined to see Jesse succeed. They had been there for him every step of the way, but none more so than Top. Thus, the bond that had followed them from their days on Kamino, had grown into something much stronger than the template they shared. It went even beyond the brotherhood of the clones. A friendship had grown up between them that owed itself, not to the similarities between them, but to the differences.
It had not been the sort of loud, boisterous thing that marked almost every aspect of Top's life. But neither was it the well-regulated, measured display of enthusiasm that defined Jesse's manner. It fell somewhere in between – a private unity of minds that had frequent enough public displays of manly bravado and foolishness. It had been the kind of relationship that had needed little to propel it along and even less to keep it strong. Both men had reveled in their roles as troopers their much-vaunted captain would scarcely want to do without.
Their place together had seemed etched in stone.
But, of course, that had not been the case.
Yes, Jesse had encouraged Top's reassignment to the 808th; perhaps he'd even believed it was what he'd wanted for his squad mate. He'd not been physically present on Top's last day with the 501st. Ah, and they had thought a holocon would suffice for a proper farewell! All the rest of the squad there with Top . . . only Jesse absent.
This encounter here on Umbara – a dreadful meeting on a dreadful planet – was the first time they had seen each other since Top's departure.
And a morose first meeting it had been.
Now, Top was starting to understand why. He was starting to understand the breakdown, the rebellion that befallen . . . not his former battalion, but his squad mate. The battalion's woes were bad enough, but right now, at this moment, while he knew he could not repair the 501st – that would be Captain Rex's unenviable job – he did have an opportunity before him to set this situation aright.
He walked up to Jesse and put both hands on his arms. "I do miss you. Of course, I miss you, Jes."
"It hasn't been the same since you left," Jesse admitted. "I thought second-in-command was a one-man job, but once you were gone . . . I found out very quickly how much I'd depended on you." A pause. "I don't know how Captain Rex manages first-in-command on his own."
Top grinned. "He doesn't do it on his own. He's got you and Sixer, all his company commanders. He's got Commander Cody. He's not an Army unto himself. None of us is."
Jesse seemed unconvinced. "Eh, it's more than that." He was struggling to find the words. "We were a team. When we were making the decisions together, it felt like . . . there wasn't a thing we couldn't do. The squad, the battalion . . . we were all invincible." A pause. "You made me believe that."
"But we all that it wasn't true," Top replied gently. "We wanted to believe it. It may have felt like it sometimes, but we all knew it wasn't true."
"Well, then . . . you made me not feel afraid of what might be coming," Jesse stated. "You took the fear away from all of us." A self-deprecating grin. "I was a much braver soldier when you were around."
"Hraka," Top dismissed. "You've always sold yourself short." He traded his jovial manner for a more serious one. "Jesse, you have always been a better trooper than me. You're a better leader, a better strategist, a better tactician. You have more control over your wits and your emotions. You're steady, reliable." A pause. "You weren't any of those things because of me. Those were all you. The one thing you lacked – still lack – is faith in your own abilities. No, let me finish. You don't need me or anyone else to tell you what you're made of. Nothing has changed just because I'm not beside you anymore." He drew close and spoke with an even greater sincerity. "You still have my friendship, and I trust I still have yours. That's enough to hold us together even if we're on different planets in opposite corners of the galaxy."
Jesse's breath trailed out of him. "I've been a bantha's ass. For a long time."
"So, don't be one anymore."
"I did so many wrong things on this mission," Jesse went on. "It's my fault Hardcase is dead. I chose to rebel against the captain instead of trusting him. I put him in a lot of bad positions . . . where he had to choose between following his duty or . . . letting me do my own thing." He shook his head in a gesture of anguish. "I never would have done anything like that before."
Top completed the train of logic. "And you wouldn't have done it had I been here."
"I'm not blaming you, Top," Jesse replied. "I'm not making excuses. I just don't . . . I don't know if I'll ever be able to regain the captain's trust."
"You can," Top said. "I think he's waiting for you to return to your old self." A pause. "So are Kix and Pitch."
Jesse nodded. "I know."
Top put an arm around his shoulders. "You can start now. Come on. Come help me find the rest of my men."
General Skywalker had departed Umbara in a gunship.
He was returning in a Republic Attack Shuttle.
And somehow that raised Rex's level of anxiety.
From its markings, Rex could see that the shuttle belonged to the diplomatic corps. Some strings had been pulled to get the general back to the front in comfort and with speed.
And yet, it was still too late. And too soon.
Too late to change the way things had gone, and too soon for Rex to face his commanding officer in light of the aftermath.
Still, despite his dread—yes, dread was the word—Rex was glad General Skywalker had returned. He was the poignant reminder that there were good Jedi, trustworthy and dedicated to the troops. Rex needed that reassurance right now.
The ship settled with the smooth precision of pilots learned in the delicate transport of sensitive politicians. Several seconds later, the ramp lowered and General Skywalker emerged.
He walked up to his first-in-command without hesitation. A grave expression showed on his face.
"Rex." His voice was quiet and filled with respectful concern.
"General Skywalker," Rex replied, standing at attention and offering a salute. "It's good to see you, Sir. I'm glad you're back."
Anakin returned the salute, remarking silently that it was odd that Rex had even offered it. The two of them had long moved past any need for such an acknowledgment. Rex always showed the proper military decorum. He needed no reminder of the superior-subordinate relationship and the respect owed to that relationship.
But now Rex stood ramrod straight and stiff . . . like a Shinie reporting in for the first time.
"It's good to be back," Anakin replied. "At ease."
"I've compiled equipment and casualty reports, dead and injured," Rex said formally.
Anakin was tempted to brush aside the reports, but he thought better of it. Rex's manner was peculiar, but the general recognized it as a sort of protective measure. Things had gone terribly wrong, and Anakin would have to ease into any discussion of it.
"Let's take a look," he said, accepting the data pad Rex offered.
Anakin began walking along the flight line, and Rex accompanied him.
From what he was reading, Anakin felt a flurry of emotions rising up within him. It was worse than he'd thought.
At length, he handed the data pad back to his captain. "I'm surprised any of you survived."
Rex was silent.
"That's to your credit, Rex," Anakin went on. "Obi-wan told me what happened, but I want to hear it from you."
Rex was direct, professional, emotionless. "General Krell was a traitor. He repeatedly sent us on missions that were meant to inflict the heaviest casualties on our troops. He wanted us to be defeated, because he was working for the enemy. When we figured out what he was doing, we arrested him."
Anakin listened closely. The words were sparse, but what went unspoken was the underlying tension. Anakin could sense the emotions beneath the surface.
"Did you plan to execute him?" Anakin asked carefully.
"Yes, Sir. That was the plan," Rex replied soberly.
"And who was going to pull the trigger?"
"I was, Sir."
"But that's not what happened."
For the first time, there was a bit of hesitation, a catch in Rex's voice. "No, Sir."
"Obi-wan said it was Dogma who killed him," Anakin put forth.
"That's . . . correct, General."
Anakin stopped walking, so he could face his captain straight on.
"How did that happen?"
"Because I couldn't bring myself to do it," Rex said, even-keeled and factual, as if he were reading from a prepared brief. "Dogma was in the prison block at the time, and when he saw I couldn't do it, he took it upon himself." Rex grit his teeth. "And I won't fault him for it. It was the right thing to do under the circumstances."
"What were the circumstances?" Anakin pressed carefully.
"The enemy was approaching. We couldn't risk them breaking through and setting Krell free," Rex replied. "We'd already lost more than half the battalion. We wouldn't have been able to contain him if he was released."
"How did you discover he was a traitor?"
"He sent us out against our own men. He tricked us into attacking the 212th, and tricked them into attacking us." A pause. "That was when I knew. I knew he had to be stopped."
Several seconds passed before Anakin spoke without reservation. "You did the right thing. So did Dogma."
Rex was stone-faced. "I let it go on too long. I knew he was giving us faulty orders. I let his reputation as a great leader trample down my own suspicions."
"You did the best you could—"
"No, I didn't, Sir," Rex averred. "I was barely able to hold the battalion together. There was a lot of dissension in the ranks, a lot of rebellion, and I didn't handle it the way I should have."
"These men would never turn against you, Rex," Anakin said with surety.
Rex's silence betrayed the truth.
And the mere thought that a single trooper had been disloyal to his captain set a low smolder in Anakin's brain.
"Who?" he demanded.
"I'd rather not say, General," Rex replied. "They . . . came around in the end." This was hardly a true statement, but it was better than airing all the humiliating and destructive details. "After all that's happened here, I don't want to bring any additional discipline down on them. And I don't want you to think less of them for it."
Anakin stared hard at his captain for a moment, then nodded once. "If that's what you want, I'll honor your decision."
Rex tilted his head in a dubious manner. "If there's anyone at fault here, it's me. Not only did I let General Krell march us into no-win situations, but I lost the trust of the men." He looked his general in the eye. "I am giving you back a battalion with less than twenty-five percent of its men still fit for battle. It isn't what I wanted, and all I can say is . . . I'm sorry, Sir."
Again, Anakin was reminded why this clone officer, his captain, held a place of such esteem, not only in the eyes of his commanding general, but in the eyes of his men, and in the GAR as a whole.
"Rex, there's nothing to apologize for," Anakin told him. "What you managed to do here was nothing short of a miracle. Krell may have sent you into no-win situations, but somehow you came out with the victories. He wanted to see you and the rest of the battalion die at the hands of the enemy, but you outsmarted him and found a way to prevent the entire battalion from being wiped out. You're still here, Umbara is in Republic hands, and a traitor is dead. Against all odds, you still came out on top, Rex."
"It doesn't feel that way, Sir," Rex admitted. He gave a heavy sigh. "I wish you had been here, Sir. I hope . . . I hope whatever the Chancellor called you away for was worth what happened here."
The tone had not been caustic or bitter. But the words' meaning could not be disputed.
Anakin put a comforting hand on Rex's shoulder. "It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth leaving the battalion under the command of a traitor. But we can't undo it. We can only go forward from here. We've got a lot of rebuilding to do. But right now, I want to see the men, especially the wounded."
"Yes, Sir, I can accompany you."
Anakin deferred. "You look dead on your feet, Rex. I think you could use some rest."
"Thank you, Sir. I'm fine."
A subtle smile crossed Anakin's face as the recollection of Dogma saying the very same thing flittered through his mind.
And the general stayed in the same vein. "I'm giving you an order, Captain. I think I can find the men on my own."
"Sir, they're not getting rest. I don't want to be taking it easy while they're still working," Rex pushed back respectfully.
"They won't be working for long," Anakin replied. "I'm sending them all back to the ship. The 34th should be arriving within the hour. They're relieving the 501st. We'll have all our men off-planet by sundown."
"I'll be glad to leave here," Rex replied.
And he meant it.