Dear Reader, So begins the "chip" arc. I hope you enjoy! Cheers, CS

Chapter 111 Winding Down and Gearing Up

"One slows. One gains speed.
Can there be a more wonderful or precarious situation?
A balancing act for the skilled and unskilled alike.
One moment passes and the next moment approaches.
There is no such thing as a break for the living."

Stones in the Wall
Silverweed's Collection

"Ringo Vinda." Rex sighed heavily. "General, are they aware of our manpower situation? We're only back up to just over fifty percent in manpower. And they're all Shinies. Sir, we're not ready to go into a battle of that magnitude."

"I explained everything to the command . . . and the Council," General Skywalker replied. "There are no other options, Captain. The number of full-complement combat units is dwindling. Our losses are occurring faster than replacements are being created."

"We just came off the battle for Umbara less than a week ago," Major Hypes put in. "A lot of the men who sustained minor injuries and weren't evac'd are still recovering. They're counted in our numbers, but they're not ready for battle."

"Can they send us augmentees?" Jesse inquired.

"Sector says they have no one to send us," General Skywalker replied. "And Ringo Vinda is a critical asset for running supply lines. The Republic has been trying to get it back ever since we lost it early in the war. They're ready to make a final push." A pause. "We won't be alone. The 377th will be with us."

"General Tiplee and Tiplar," Jesse noted. "I feel better knowing we'll have at least three Jedi with us. Do we know what the 377th's manpower strength is?"

"The last I heard they were around seventy percent," the general replied. "We've also got the 212th, 279th, the 808th, and 4-12th. That's three more Jedi, so that should make you feel even better, Lieutenant."

"When is the attack supposed to begin?" Rex asked.

"That's still to be determined," Anakin replied. "We have a planning briefing at 1900 in the main conference room. Get your company commanders together, Rex, and make sure they're all there."

"Yes, Sir."

"Until 1900 . . . dismissed."

The others exited the room, but Rex hung back.

"It's going to be tough, Rex," Anakin stated.

"I agree, General," Rex replied. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Given our manpower shortages – and especially the heavy losses we took in the NCO ranks, I'd like your permission to request that Fives' tour with us be extended . . . indefinitely."

Anakin regarded him curiously before replying. In the one week since the cessation of combat operations on Umbara, Anakin had learned much more about what had happened in his absence and what role Fives had played. In fact, it was Fives who had come forth with most of the details. It was as if the ARC trooper had needed to unburden his conscience and obtain some sort of forgiveness or understanding or exoneration for his actions. Yet, forgiveness was not Anakin's to give. If anyone deserved an apology from Fives, it was Rex; and Rex would never, never look for or expect such a thing. Anakin imagined that Rex would not even know how to react to an apology except with great discomfort. But from what Anakin had heard in the past week, he admittedly was surprised by Rex's request.

"You sure, Rex?"

"Yes, General," came the steady reply.

Anakin nodded slowly. "Put in the request. I'm sure the ARC Brigade won't refuse you. In the meantime, tell Fives to come to the briefing tonight."

"Yes, Sir, I will."

Rex turned to leave, but he had gone only a few steps before his general stopped him.

"Rex?"

"Yes, Sir?"

Anakin hesitated before asking, "How are the men?"

Rex considered. "They're doing well, Sir. They've been through a lot. Umbara did something to them—to all of us—but they're getting back to normal."

"I wish we had more downtime before being sent into another battle," Anakin stated. "They deserve it."

"We'll be fine, General Skywalker," Rex assured him. "This is what we were made for."

His words struck Anakin as profoundly sad. "Maybe it's what you were made for, but you've all become much more than that."

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that."

Anakin wished there was more he could do to show how he felt about his soldiers—especially his captain—other than offer only words. He wished he could make up for having been away during the worst fighting his battalion had ever faced. He could not undo what had already happened, but he could made a pledge to himself that he would never again allow anyone—not even the Chancellor—to pull him away when his men needed him.

Fives entered the dining hall.

There were a couple dozen clones inside. Fives recognized most of them, but he had no desire to join anyone. Since the end of the fighting on Umbara, he had felt out-of-place. The 501st was once again fully Rex's battalion – not that it had ever been anything but, yet Fives felt very self-conscious about speaking his mind around the permanent party 501st soldiers, lest they find some fault in his words.

At the moment, he had nothing to find fault with. The 501st was enjoying some peace at the moment. Peace being, of course, relative. He would head back to ARC Headquarters once the 501st received confirmation of his official release notification. That should be in the next day or so – perhaps sooner, given the way things had gone on Umbara.

He stepped up to one of the food dispensers and punched in his order.

Someone bumped him from the side. Turning, he saw DB grinning at him.

"Even this slub takes good after ten days of C-rations," the sniper remarked.

Fives returned the grin with a one-sided smile of his own. "If you say so."

The two got their meals and sat down across from each other.

"Guess you'll be headed back soon," DB stated.

"Just waiting for the release order," Fives replied.

"I'll be sad to see you go."

Fives cast him a doubtful eye. "Sure."

"Yeah. Having you here brought back some great memories," DB went on. "Some crappy ones, too; but I prefer to focus on the good ones." A pause. "You remember crash-landing on Bertegad."

"That's your idea of a good memory?" Fives chuckled.

"Well, not the crash, no. But the Monastica . . . that was a pretty amazing place," DB replied. "The sort of place I'd like to go to when the war is over and we're free."

Despite himself, Fives could not hold back. "You think there's freedom for us when this is over? You're a more optimistic man than I am."

"Everyone's more optimistic than you are, Fives," DB ribbed good-naturedly. "And . . . I don't know what our future will be. But it's a nice dream."

On this, Fives could not disagree. "Yes, it is."

"Mind if I join you?"

Looking up, the two clones saw Tup waiting for an answer to his question.

"Yeah, sure. Plenty of room."

Tup sat. "I think I spent the last twelve hours sleeping, and now I'm starving."

"I can see that," DB quipped, looking at his plate, piled high with synthetic food stuffs that he didn't even recognize. "You must know every program in that dispenser."

"Just about."

"He reminds me of Bounce," Fives recalled. "That man will eat everything in sight." The conversation was making him feel at ease. And having a veteran 501st trooper like Double Barrel sitting there eating and cutting up with him . . . it was nice.

"I've only met him once," Tup stated. "He's not much for soft landings, is he?"

"That's how he got his name," DB replied. "He does it on purpose, you know? Now that he's got that nickname, he has to live up to it."

Between forkfuls, Tup mumbled, "All the same, I'd rather fly with Three Point."

"We all would. He's the best heavies pilot there is," DB concurred.

After a few seconds of eating-induced silence, Tup asked, almost reluctantly, "When do you go back?"

Fives gave a mild shrug. "I'm not sure. I'm waiting for orders."

"I wish you were staying on," Tup admitted.

"I go wherever the brigade sends me," Fives said, trying to sound pragmatic and cool. But the truth was he wanted to belong to a unit again. He wanted to serve side-by-side with the same soldiers day in and day out. And despite all that had happened Umbara, he wanted that unit to be the 501st. He wanted them to want him, to welcome him. He wanted Rex to be his captain. He wanted General Skywalker to be his general. He'd augmented many units since joining the ARC brigade, and he'd never felt any attachment that would have made him want to stay with them for the long haul. And he hadn't expected to feel any pull coming back to the 501st. But all that had changed from the first moment he'd been back among his old friends. Even the darkness of Umbara had not been able to obscure the longing he had been feeling in his heart. This was where he wanted to be.

"Well, the brigade needs to keep you here," Tup stated emphatically. "Without you, we wouldn't have won Umbara."

"I think that's overstating it a bit," Fives demurred.

"Well, if nothing else, you have to stay for me," Tup persisted. "With Dogma in prison, Hardcase gone, and . . . Jesse's changed . . . I've got to have someone to eat supper with, don't I?"

Fives and DB both chuckled at this.

"You're both laughing, but I'm serious," Tup replied. "Especially with Jesse suddenly becoming all duty and discipline . . . I guess I got used to a bit of . . . rebellion."

"Jesse's returning to what he'd always been," DB informed him. "You didn't know him then, but Jesse was an amazing second-in-command, the best ever. The Jesse you knew wasn't the Jesse the rest of us knew. Jesse was Rex's right hand. He kept everyone and everything in order. You could trust his judgment. I know Rex did. Now, he's going back to being that leader."

Fives added quietly. "All to the good. He's a great officer."

Double Barrel simpered. "I think Top's visit had something to do with his transformation."

"I think you're right," Fives agreed.

"Damn, it was good to see Top again," DB enthused.

"Yeah, it was," Fives agreed. He was not lying. Since the incident in the hallway with Top, Fives had been considering that Top might have been right – about many things.

"You two had a bit of a run-in, eh?" DB asked in the innocuous, matter-of-fact manner that marked the sniper's easy-going manner.

"Well, it didn't take long for that word to get out," Fives grimaced, but there was humor in his voice.

"He laid you out, huh?" DB grinned.

Fives cocked his head to one side in concession. "He did." A pause. "And I, uh . . . I might have had it coming."

Double Barrel grew somewhat more earnest and serious. "I imagine Hardcase's death hit him hard."

Fives considered before replying, "Among other things. He and I just have different views of how things should be done, and he . . . wanted to make sure I understood where he was coming from. I got the message."

"He sounds like an interesting guy," Tup said doubtfully.

"He's one of the best," DB replied.

Fives added after a few seconds. "Yes, he is. One of the very best."

And to his own surprise, he meant every word. He hoped that he would get to tell him that face-to-face one day.

The rest of the meal passed with easy conversation until, at length, Double Barrel stood up, announcing, "I'm going to the med bay to see Ajax."

"How's he doing?" Tup inquired.

"He's doing great. It was a shallow wound, and he's chomping at the bit to get cleared for duty," DB replied.

"You'll be glad to have him back," Fives stated.

"Glad doesn't even begin to describe it."

"You're looking better every day," DB observed encouragingly. "They should be letting you out of here soon."

"I hope so," Ajax replied. "I feel great."

"Great?"

"Okay, maybe not great, but almost," Ajax corrected. "They've done a lot for me in the past week."

"I'm sure," DB replied. "Usually when I come to visit, you're not even in the room. They've got you off somewhere for more treatment."

"That's only because you come by three or four times a day," Ajax poked. "If you just came during breakfast and dinner, you'd catch me every time. You must have a lot of free time on your hands."

"We've got some downtime," DB replied.

"And I'm missing it by being here in the med bay."

"Healing is more important than goofing off," DB replied.

A new voice entered the conversation. "Who's goofing off?"

Both troopers recognized the voice even without seeing the speaker.

Double Barrel straightened up, and Ajax attempted to look somewhat at attention despite his being in bed.

"General Skywalker," both said in unison.

"Relax, relax, you two," Anakin said, waving his hand. "I'm just down here checking on our injured. How are you feeling, Ajax?"

"Almost a hundred percent, Sir," came the reply. "I'm ready to get of here."

"Well, don't rush things," Anakin chided. "I want you to be fully healed before you return to duty."

"Yes, Sir."

Anakin turned his gaze towards Double Barrel. "How are you doing, DB?"

"Tip-top, General," DB replied. "I only got a few bumps and scrapes."

Anakin's eyes narrowed and betrayed a subtle mischief. "And how's your friend?"

DB colored slightly. "I guess everyone knows about him now."

"I've known about him all along," Anakin replied. "His presence in the Force is very strong."

"But you never said anything, Sir," DB said, his inflection that of a query.

"It wasn't my place to say anything," the general replied with a wry grin. "He was your secret."

"Apparently, no secret at all," DB acknowledged. He paused a moment. "I owe my life to him, several times over. I feel like . . . like he gives me an advantage over the enemy."

"He gives all of us an advantage. Tell him 'thank you' – for me and for the entire battalion," Anakin said. "He's part of the 501st now. He's a member of our team. I want him to know how grateful we are."

Double Barrel smiled. "He knows. You just told him, Sir."

The general nodded then put a hand on Ajax's shoulder. "Take it easy. Get plenty of rest. We'll be waiting for you to get back to the line."

"Yes, General, thank you, Sir."

As their general walked away, Ajax spoke quietly. "We're lucky, you know?"

"What, that we're still alive?"

Ajax grinned. "That, too. But I meant we're lucky to have a commanding officer like General Skywalker."

"You won't get any disagreement from me on that," DB stated. "And after what happened with General Krell, I think it goes far beyond luck."

Ajax grinned. "You're sounding like the people at the Monastica, getting all mysterious and mystical."

"Maybe that's not a bad thing."

"Looks like there's no rest for the weary," Cody remarked.

"Looks that way," Rex agreed.

"Taking Ringo Vinda isn't going to be any easier than taking Umbara," Cody went on.

Rex said nothing.

"The battlefield will be much more confined."

Again, Rex was silent.

One more try. "At least this time, we're going up against droids. They're more predictable than living troops."

"True."

Cody smiled and shook his head. "Should I just stand here and continue to have a conversation with myself?"

Rex seemed caught off guard by the commander's words. "I'm just listening to you."

"Neh, you've got something else on your mind. What is it?" Cody asked. He had come to Rex's quarters with the plan to discuss operational options for Ringo Vinda before the briefing. The visit was impromptu, but that was a common occurrence between the two men. There was never any hesitation on Cody's part, as the senior officer, to make the trip Rex's quarters, as a junior officer. In fact, it was the more likely case, given that Rex tended to go so into his head and his own planning that it often did not occur to him to seek out Cody. He knew the commander would eventually come to him. And Cody, being who he was, did not mind, for he knew Rex was not showing any disrespect.

"I'm . . . just waiting to hear back from the ARC Brigade about Fives," Rex replied.

"You know they're going to say yes," Cody said with surety. "Are you wondering if you made a mistake by asking for him to be extended?"

"No."

"Then what? If you're not going to focus on the mission—"

"I am focused on the mission," Rex pushed back. "I can't afford not to be. I'll speak up when I have something meaningful to offer."

And even though Cody was not buying it, he did not press the matter. Rex would only continue to resist, and at least if Cody tried to concentrate on battle plans, Rex would likely follow his lead.

He pulled up a holocon image of the station. "Ringo Vinda's circumference is over 43,000 kilometers. The station's length is twice that. We have limited troops to insert, so we have to look at where the Separatist forces are concentrated within the station."

Nearly an hour passed as they reviewed schematics and discussed strategic options. When it became clear that they were wrapping up, Cody leaned back in a chair that was one of the sparse furnishings in Rex's quarters.

"We still have an hour before briefing time," the commander noted. "Do you want to go grab something to eat?"

"No, thanks," Rex replied. He could see Cody had made himself comfortable. "You're going to hang out here until the briefing?"

"Why? Do you want me to go?"

Rex hesitated before answering. "I'm having trouble getting past it, Cody."

Cody thought he knew what Rex was referring to, but he sought confirmation. "General Krell?"

"I can't help but wonder if I would have sunk to the same levels had General Skywalker been there," Rex replied.

"You wouldn't have had cause to ," Cody replied. "Krell made it impossible for you to see clearly what the right decisions were. You did the best you could, and you're probably the only reason any of your men are still alive." A pause. "You worried about the inquiry?"

"No," Rex said, and this was the truth.

Cody waited patiently. Rex would go on unprompted.

"What do, uh . . . what do your men . . . think about the friendly fire incident?"

Cody was surprised by the question. He considered for a few seconds, then answered, "They were shaken by it."

"Do they hold it against us?"

"Against . . . what? The 501st? Of course not, Rex."

"We're the ones who fired on them."

"And we're the ones who fired on your men. General Krell had everyone fooled, even General Kenobi," Cody pointed out. He hesitated. "Why are you asking this? Are your men angry at the 212th?"

"No," Rex replied, shaking his head slowly and thoughtfully. "They don't appear to be, at least."

"Then what is this about?"

Rex drew in a deep breath. "I can't stop thinking about Waxer." A pause. "Seeing him die right there in front of me, and knowing I had given the order that resulted in his death." He paced across the small space of his quarters. "Waxer was a good man. A really good man. A veteran. He didn't deserve to be killed by his own forces."

"It was an accident, Rex," Cody replied.

Rex turned and away and closed his eyes on a memory he had tried hard to blot out.

"I can't forget the look on his face . . . the horror and the sadness," he moaned, as if the image were causing him physical anguish. "I've looked into the faces of thousands of dead or dying men. But this was different. Waxer wasn't afraid of dying. He wasn't sad that his own death was imminent. It was all . . . regret and guilt. He died feeling guilty about killing us. The look in his eyes . . . it was almost like terror, like he was seeing something beyond just the betrayal of the moment."

Cody waited to see if Rex would say more; and when no more was forthcoming, he ventured carefully, "He was probably as horrified as you were when he made the discovery."

Rex shook his head. "No, no. It was more than that. It was as if some . . . realization had suddenly dawned on him, and . . . he was . . . seeing the futility of the entire war."

Cody narrowed his eyes. "Waxer was one hundred percent dedicated to the war effort."

"I know that."

"He wouldn't have considered the deaths of his brothers to be futile," Cody went on. "It would mean that they died for no purpose. I knew Waxer better than almost anyone else. He never would have felt that way." Cody watched Rex as he spoke, and there was something mildly alarming in the captain's demeanor. "And you shouldn't think that way either, Rex."

"I don't," Rex replied. "I mean . . . I didn't. After Umbara, I'm just . . . I'm not sure anymore."

"Not sure of what?"

"We were betrayed by a Jedi, Cody," Rex said emphatically. "How do we know it won't happen again?"

"What, do you expect General Skywalker to turn against us? Or General Kenobi?"

"No," Rex replied. "But there are other Jedi."

"Rex, you need to stop thinking this way right now," Cody chided. "

"Cody, what happens if the Republic loses this war? What if all this death is for nothing?" Rex exhaled heavily. "I think . . . I think that's what Waxer was seeing."

"What's got into you, Rex?"

"Nothing, Commander," Rex retorted. "I don't think it's unrealistic to consider the fact that we might lose this conflict. We've had more defeats than victories in the last six months."

"That doesn't mean we just give up," Cody replied. "And that's the last thing I would expect from you."

"I'm not giving up, Cody," came the reply. "I would never stop fighting. I would never leave General Skywalker's side. I just can't help wondering if this war is beyond our reach now."

"With thinking like that, it will be." Cody's voice contained a bit more chastisement now.

Rex leaned back in his chair, threw his head back and looked at the ceiling. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Cody, recognizing the proffered opening in Rex's voice, sat down in the chair next to him.

"You need to let go of Umbara," he advised. "I know it's still too fresh right now, but you have to start putting it behind you." He leaned forward and slapped his friend's leg. "Where is the arrogant, over-confident firebrand that I met in ARC training? That's who I've been serving beside for the past two years. If you're going to tell me he's gone, I'm going to have a problem with that."

"He's not gone," Rex replied. "He's just . . . banged up a bit."

"So, you know I'm here, right?

"Good grief, don't get soppy."

"Just trying to be a good friend," Cody said with a warm humor.

Rex glanced at him. "You are a good friend, Cody."

"Now, who's being soppy?"

"What's all this?" Jesse inquired, looking over Kix's shoulder.

"Hardcase's stuff," the medic replied.

"All this? I didn't know he had so many things," Jesse said lightly with a fondness in his voice.

"It's all . . . small stuff," Kix said quietly. He held up a holoframe and turn it on. An image of five young, same-looking men popped up. They all looked very serious.

"Hey, that's nice," Jesse grinned. "We all look so prim and proper, so clean . . . "

"So Shinie," Kix added. "Take a look at this."

He scanned quickly through a number of photos, coming to a wild image of Jesse leaping over a barren, rocky landscaping with a massive funnel in the background, whipping the air into an immense debris field.

"That's—that's unaided land nav with the ARC trainees," Jesse exclaimed. "That's up on the plateau where all those tornadoes were! Our first time meeting Captain Rex."

"Lieutenant Rex," Kix corrected. "Apparently, Hardcase took a lot of pictures with his HUD, even as a cadet, and then stored them in here. There are thousands of them. Look here." He brought up another image, but this one was more than just a static picture. This was a hologram. A hangar filled with clones, shaking hands, laughing, having a good time.

"This was our induction ceremony into the 501st," Jesse beamed at the memory. "That was a wild night, well as wild as you can get shipside." He crouched down beside where Kix was sitting cross-legged on the floor in his utility uniform, looking like a kid going through his collection of sabbat pieces.

"Anything embarrassing?"

"Plenty," Kix replied. He brought up an image of Jesse getting flipped during hand-to-hand combat training. Another of Kix in the barber chair after losing a bet. And one of a scorched laboratory table with smoke still lingering, and Pitch looking jubilant in the presence of his otherwise shocked squad mates.

"That's when Pitch almost burned down the fricking lab! That's great!"

Kix continued scanning, but Jesse reached out and stopped him. "Woah, woah! Go back. One more. One more. Well, I'll be damned . . . "

Kix colored at the image. "This was when we were all reunited on Bertegad," he stated.

The holo showed Top leaning over Kix as he lay in his sick bed, touching forehead to forehead.

"That was a great day," Jesse nodded.

"I admit, this is one of my favorite shots," Kix revealed. "I'm glad Hardcase had the . . . foresight to take all these images."

"You and me, both," Jesse agreed.

Another item caught his eye, and he bent down to pick it up. "What's this?"

"It's a book."

"A book? An old-fashioned book? What the hell was he doing—it's a poetry book? Now, that beats all. This is the last thing I would have expected from Hardcase."

"Look again," Kix advised. "It's all war poems." He swallowed to maintain his composure. "He was a soldier through and through. There was nothing he loved more than the idea of fighting and dying in battle, especially if, in dying, he was able to save us. And that's what he did."

Jesse put a hand on Kix's shoulder.

For a while they were silent, looking at the array of belongings. Then Kix spoke up.

"Where are you coming from in uniform?"

"Actually, I'm headed out. The captain's called his company commanders. We've got a mission briefing at 1900."

"Mission briefing? Dare I ask?"

"Ringo Vinda."

Kix showed little emotion. "When?"

"That's one of things we'll be discussing in the briefing. Just keep this under your bonnet until the command makes the formal announcement," Jesse said.

"I will."

Jesse stood back up. "What are you going to do with all this stuff?"

"Keep it," Kix replied.

Jesse nodded. He wasn't sure if this was the answer he'd been hoping for, but it pleased him nonetheless. "I'm glad."

"That might have been one of the longest briefings I've ever sat in," Sixer said in a muffled voice of exaggerated drama. "They could have just said: the enemy outnumbers us twenty to one; droids are stupid; just keep blasting until you run out of ammunition or all the droids are dead, whatever comes first."

Captain Grommet from the 212th drew in close and spoke in a conspiratorial voice, "Or just break the fekking station in half, and problem solved. Seppies don't get it. We don't get it. The station would be a loss, but they'd lose a lot of droids in the process."

"You always did cut things down to their simplest measure, Grom," Lieutenant Fin, one of Rex's company commanders, said with a smile. "That's why I like working with you."

Fives, about to exit the room with the others, put in his own two cents. "I'm not even sure why I was at the briefing. I'm not even going to be here."

At that very moment, he heard Rex's voice behind.

"Fives, hang back."

Fives turned and nodded his acknowledgment, then to the others who were leaving, he offered, "If I don't see you again, good luck. Fight hard."

With that, he waited quietly and patiently while Captain Rex finished up his business the main strategic planners. At length, the captain approached him and they started down the corridor.

Rex was direct. "Fives, I've asked the ARC Brigade if they would extend your assignment with us. They said yes."

Fives was almost too stunned for words. "Uh . . . I, uh . . . thank you, Sir."

"If you don't want to stay, tell me now. There's still time to turn this off and get you on a shuttle back to the brigade," Rex said. "But I hope you'll stay."

"It would be my honor, Sir," Fives replied.

"Good," Rex nodded, then he crossed his arms. "So, let's get a few things straight first. There is one captain in the 501st. This isn't a democracy. It isn't committee rule. And it's not a popularity contest. You're here because you have skill and can do the job. I'm not going to have a repeat of Kamino, is that clear?"

"Very clear, Captain."

"Then I expect nothing but your best. If I feel I'm getting something less than that, you'll be released back to the ARC Brigade. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Very good. Make sure you're at all subsequent planning meetings. I'm making you my operations officer since I had to move Lightfoot to company commander to replace Denson. You'll report directly to me, but you are subordinate to Jesse." Rex sounded determined, serious. "We have two weeks before this thing kicks off, so there's a lot of work to be done. Mind your place, Fives. I have a lot of faith in you, so don't prove my faith ill-founded."

"No, Sir, I won't," Fives assured him.

"Dismissed."

Fives turned and began walking back towards his quarters. And suddenly, he felt as if he wanted to run and spring into the air. This was what he'd been hoping for and yet believed was beyond possibility. Somehow, the hand of fate had turned the captain's head, and he was willing to take a chance that Fives might still be a good fit for the 501st.

It was a chance Fives could not pass up.

A chance to regain his captain's esteem.

A chance to find a home again.