Dear Reader,
First, thank you, of course, to my wonderful reviewers: Sued13, Scrumblenut, CT7567 Rules, Akira Hayama, and Braveseeker. In answer to Braveseeker's question about the Resolute: yes, it gets destroyed in the Battle of Sullust, according to Wikipedia (Nightsisters episode). Thank you for asking the question! Keeps me on my toes! :-) I have given names to a couple of "incidental" clones in the whole "Tup kidnapped" scene. It always bothered me that it looked like one of the clones (the medic) was afraid of the oncoming droids. I give an explanation for that. Also, the scene in the hangar before the medical team departs, there's a brief glimpse of two troopers on the catwalk above the hangar. I decided those two would be two of my OCs. And a special shout-out to Akira Hayama who had the same thoughts that I had when it came to Bly and his Jedi General! There's actually a lot of foreshadowing in this chapter . . . and intimations at just how oblivious everyone is to what is really happening around them, especially with Anakin. At any rate, I hope you all enjoy! Peace, CS
Chapter 113 Stolen
"There are a dozen views about everything until you know the answer. Then, there is never more than one."
That Hideous Strength
C.S. Lewis
"Here's the medical record download," Doctor Unhalle announced, handling over a data pad to the team's chief medic, a staff sergeant from the battle group's medical frigate, the Angelus. The medic's name was Bird, and he was more than suited to the task. He possessed the knowledge and experience to oversee a medical transport mission, especially a sensitive one like this. He'd once been a field medic like Kix, but then he'd been reassigned to the medical frigate as a permanent party medic. He was respected and liked by both the medical corps and the combat arms ranks.
Kix knew him well and was happy to learn that he would be leading the medevac. He knew Bird's skills were superior, and when dealing with an unknown illness such as the one afflicting Tup, the presence of someone like Bird was reassuring.
Bird, for his own part, was pleased to have Kix coming along. The two had worked together on many missions, as well as in the operating rooms of the battle group ships.
"Thank you, Major," Bird replied.
"I've reviewed the file with you," Unhalle went on. "Take all necessary precautions. We still don't know what's causing the problem, so make sure he's monitored continually."
"Yes, Sir," came the reply.
"Remember, this is just a drop-off," the doctor reminded him. "As soon as you've turned him over, we need you back here as soon as possible."
Staff Sergeant Bird nodded. "Understood."
General Skywalker and Captain Rex entered the hangar.
The general approached the hover gurney on which Tup, flanked by two medics, was lying. The two medics stepped back to make room.
"Tup, can you hear me?"
There was no coherent response, only a jumbled gurgle of sounds.
Anakin frowned. This incident with Tup might be the greatest or the least of his problems. He'd find that out when he got back to Coruscant. But for the moment, he focused his attention on the ailing trooper before him, and a sense of sadness and bewilderment washed over him. He was responsible for the well-being of his soldiers. How had this gotten past him? Had something happened on Umbara that had cracked Tup's sanity? Or was it some latent affliction, slow-building and now, at last, showing itself?
Anakin looked up sternly at SSG Bird. "You're leading this evac? Make sure you take good care of him." He turned to Rex. "Security detail on board?"
"They've already reported and are preparing for departure, General," Rex replied.
At a nod from General Skywalker, the medics began moving the gurney towards the ship's ramp; but almost immediately, a voice rang out in the hanger.
"Wait! Wait!" Fives came hurrying towards them. He went straight to his stricken brother.
"Tup . . . it's going to be fine," he said earnestly. "I promise. They'll fix you up real good. We'll be having a drink together in no time, eh?"
But Tup's response was dispiriting. "Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders."
"You are a good soldier, Tup," Fives affirmed quietly.
"It's time to go now," Bird spoke up.
"Be careful," Anakin warned.
"Yes, General."
On the security walkway above the hangar door, Double Barrel and Gernot stood watching the scene below.
"What do you think happened to him?" Gernot asked. "I mean . . . he hasn't even been on active duty for six months and he falls apart. Just like Dogma. He snapped. They both snapped and killed a Jedi."
"Well, technically, Krell wasn't a Jedi," DB corrected. "And I think what happened with Dogma was a lot different than this. But you're right . . . they're both from the same batch. They both had . . . breakdowns in discipline."
"Discipline? Tup's breakdown had nothing to do with discipline," Gernot pushed back. "Did you see him? He—he's lost his jenkas."
DB's expression of reluctant agreement was almost painful. "It makes you wonder if something in the matrix is starting to . . . go bad. I mean, they can only use the same strand of DNA for so long before it begins to fray. If the DNA is corrupting, maybe . . . eh, I can't believe that. Dogma and Tup were both good troopers, good brothers. There's something else at work here."
"Maybe," Gernot shrugged. "But it just seems too much of a coincidence."
"Their other batchers seem okay—"
"The ones still alive," Gernot interrupted. "I've never seen Shinies ring the bell so quickly. I'm telling you, DB, there's something happening on Kamino, and they're not turning out the same quality soldier."
DB gave an indulgent grin. "You can really talk hraka sometimes, you know that?"
"Go ahead and laugh," Gernot warned. "But mark my words, bad times are coming. And they're coming straight out of Kamino."
"There's something we need to talk about, Rex."
Rex already had an idea of what was on General Skywalker's mind, but he waited for his commanding officer to go on.
"We're being called back to Coruscant," Anakin announced. "The 327th is here to relieve us."
"Understood, General."
"For now, we'll keep this to ourselves. I want to wait until the right time . . . and for the right words, before telling the men."
"Yes, General."
"We're going to have a lot to answer for, Rex," Anakin went on.
"I will more than happy to recount what happened on Umbara," Rex replied.
Anakin detected a note of antagonism in his voice, and it made him actually feel a twinge of happiness. He and his captain were bound together in this, and he knew Rex had his back.
"You sound a bit eager," Anakin grinned.
But to Rex, it was nothing to smile about. "I'll be happy to ask why the decision was made for you to go to Coruscant just as the fighting was beginning. I'll be happy to ask how someone like General Krell could have gone undetected among the Jedi. I'll be happy to recount what it was like watching my men be murdered at the hands of their own commanding general. And I'll—" His voice caught for a moment. "I want to see their faces when I tell them what it was like to find out I sent my men out to kill their own brothers."
In that moment, there in the dim steely battleship gray of the Justice's corridor, Anakin realized for the first time just how injured his captain really was. Rex would never show weakness. Sadness, sorrow, doubt . . . these were things the captain abhorred, and Anakin knew as much. But his assumption had always been that Rex forcefully denied such emotions from taking up residence in his head or heart. Now, it was clear . . . the phantoms were there, maybe they'd been there for a long time; they were simply kept under lock and key. For a brief moment, Rex had allowed some small glimpse into the wound he was carrying. And it was a revelation Anakin would never forget, not even in the dark days and years to come. The steadfastness of his first-in-command would always stay with him.
"Rex." Anakin placed a hand on his captain's shoulder. "The leadership deserves to hear that. All that and more," he agreed. "And you'll get your chance to tell them. I'll be beside you every step of the way."
"I know that, General," Rex acknowledged. "It's . . . not you I worry about."
"The Grand Army leadership?"
Rex was silent.
"The Jedi Council?" Anakin probed.
"I . . . can't put my finger on it, General," Rex said, sounding weary and frustrated. "It just feels like we're moving through a fog."
"That makes you a beacon," Anakin said lightly.
Rex grimaced. "The least you could do is not make fun of me, General," he replied in kind.
Anakin stopped walking and waited for his captain to turn and face him.
He spoke with conviction. "I'm not."
Kix shook his head ruefully. "I just can't figure this out. None of it makes any sense."
Staff Sergeant Bird looked up from the vital signs reading he was taking. "It is baffling. He doesn't even seem to be aware of his surroundings. It's as if something were blocking his . . . cognizance."
"Like a wall's gone up," Kix put forth.
"Yeah, and there's no getting through to him."
"But what would cause something like that to happen? And are the rest of us in danger of the same thing happening?"
"Then you think this is a Separatist plot, some kind of bio-chemical weapon?" Bird asked.
"I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait until we get to Kamino to find out," Kix replied.
"If he makes it," Bird sighed. "His pulse is racing, despite the sedation. And . . . if you look at the test results run on the Justice . . . his adrenaline levels are off the chart."
"Could that be his body trying to fight off the invading illness?"
"Maybe, but . . . look at this. The brain scan they did shows heightened activity in amygdala, and then . . . only a few minutes later, it's back to normal. Again, this is after the sedative had been administered. His body keeps triggering a fight response. The strain is killing him," Bird explained.
"But again, we're left with 'why'? What is causing the activity? Something had to set all this off," Kix stated emphatically.
"Could it be something that happened on Umbara? Did he . . . take any of the aggression-enhancing drug the Umbarans were taking?"
Kix hesitated. "It's possible. I mean, some of the guys talked about it, but I don't know if they ever really did it."
"Was Tup one of the ones who talked about it?"
"He was part of that group," Kix replied. "But again, I don't know if they ever went through with it. It might have just been a lot of talk."
"Maybe we should find out. We're still in range. Try contacting the others in that group. See if they know if Tup used it."
Kix nodded and was about to head to the communications console when the ship lurched violently sideways, tossing a number of the security detail and attending medical staff to the floor.
"That was a blaster strike!" This from the head of the security detail, another 501st trooper nicknamed Marshal. "Man your positions!" He commed the flight deck. "Pilot, what's going on up there?!"
"We're under attack," came the curt reply. "We have to turn back—"
Before he could finish speaking, another impact jolted the ship, tripping the emergency lighting.
"Pilot! What's happening?!"
"They've taken out our fighter escort!" He expanded the frequency to include the fleet. "Mayday! Mayday! The enemy's cut us off! They must have circled around behind us! We're being overwhelmed—"
Below in the cargo hold, Marshal listened to the frantic call. When it ended with a scream of terror, he knew it would only be a matter of time before the enemy made its way into the hold. And no sooner had the thought entered his mind than the ship lost artificial gravity.
Both the medical and the security detail hovered up off the deck. No one needed to be told to activate the magnetic grav in their suits, but most members of the medical team were not wearing armor. They were left to the mercy of weightlessness. Not only that, but it would only be a matter of seconds before the oxygen atmosphere within the shuttle bled fully out into space, only a matter of time before the deep freeze of space would turn their unprotected bodies into crystal.
As the security team donned the ship's spare oxygen tanks, Kix pulled on his helmet and immediately went to the emergency kit station, grabbing out respirators to give to the medical staff. Respirators alone would not be enough to stop deep freeze of space from claiming them as victims, but it would get them a fighting chance against the onslaught that was to come, and maybe—maybe by some miracle, the ship's power and atmosphere might be restored.
The sound of a muffled explosion reverberated through the ship, followed by an unsettling scuffling sound. It was a sound Marshal knew well. It was a sound his men knew.
Buzz droids.
"We can't let 'em in here. Hold that line," Marshal ordered.
"Kix!"
Kix turned to see Bird hovering and shivering beside him as the cold started to take effect.
"Help me get Tup up the chute!" he ordered. "We have to try and protect him . . . for a little while until help gets here."
"I'm with you." Together, they maneuvered the gurney up to the top of the chute.
"We'd better get back down there. They're going to need our help," Kix said.
"One of us needs to stay here with him," Bird replied.
"That should be you, Sergeant. You have no weapon, you have no armor, and . . . you need to be the last stand. If they get past us . . . "
"If they get past you, there's nothing I'll be able to do to stop them. And if that happens, I'll do what I need to do."
"What—what does that mean?"
"They're after Tup. There would be no reason to attack and board this ship unless they were looking for him specifically. There's something about him that they want, and we can't let them have it," Bird replied calmly, despite the chattering of his teeth. "If I have to kill him to keep him out of their hands, that's what I'll do." He held up a hypo. "Mythetenol."
Kix hesitated a moment. "Sergeant, I—I . . ." he sounded defeated. "I guess there's no other way."
"None that I can see, Corporal. So . . . good luck."
There was a finality in Bird's voice, as if he knew this were the end.
The staff sergeant put a hand on Kix's shoulder. "Make sure you tell them what happened here."
And before Kix could react, before he even realized what was happening, he was shoved backwards and a door slammed in his face. He heard a locking sound. Immediately he activated his night vision only to find that he was trapped in a utility closet. There was a thin strip of plexi-glass through which he could look out into the chute.
"Wh—what the—Bird! Bird! Fek and all, Bird!" Kix pounded on the door.
On the other side, Bird spoke evenly. "Someone has to survive to tell the fleet what happened. They need to know the Separatists want Tup."
"Damn it, Bird! Let me out of here! I have to help them defend—"
"One more blaster isn't going to make a difference, Kix," Bird replied. "But someone needs to be able to tell what happened. Please . . . stay quiet in there. Otherwise, you'll give yourself away. When this is over . . . the fleet will find you."
Kix swore under his breath. He heard Marshal's voice.
"Blast 'em!"
The sounds of blaster fire and dying men reached through the door of Kix's prison. But now, all he could do was listen and try and steal a glimpse through the window. If he made his presence known and the enemy opened the door, he was a sitting cwalket.
And so, he resigned himself to fulfilling the role Bird had set for him. When the sounds of fighting stopped, he heard the faint groans of a damaged ship, the klaxon blaring, and nothing else.
Rex headed towards the officers' mess. There he could sit with Commander Bly for a short reprieve and indulge in a cup of caf . . . or some other non-intoxicating liquid.
The Republic's warships were, for the most part, dry ships. Any libations were reserved for the highest-ranking personnel, usually part of a tightly controlled stock, and strictly off-limits to the clone contingent. What a clone imbibed on Coruscant or other R&R worlds was not a great concern to the GAR leadership, but the fleet's vessels were no place for throngs of young men to indulge their thirst for something that tended to lower even the most disciplined man's inhibitions.
As such, the officers' mess was dry. A shame, really, for Rex actually felt like he could use a drink. But he would gladly settle for Bly's camaraderie instead. It still made him chuckle internally to think that he had come to a place where he considered Bly a friend, and a good one. Given the antagonism they had shown for each other in ARC training, it was a fairly comical turning of the tables. And that sort of levity was what Rex needed now. Anything to divert his attention from the current trials.
Still, there were other forms of diversion.
Forms shocking enough to push all other considerations to the wayside – at least temporarily. And what he was about to see fell into that category.
Passing a side corridor that led to the starboard landing bays, a slight movement and splash of white caught his eye. Glancing over, he saw that the white was Bly. Good, they could walk to the mess together.
With Bly was his commanding officer, General Secura.
The thought came into Rex's head every time he saw Aayla Secura was that Bly was one lucky son-of-a-gundark. Not that Rex would ever prefer any other Jedi to General Skywalker, but there was no denying that General Secura was an incredibly beautiful woman whose sensuality billowed like an aura surrounding her. How her soldiers ever managed to keep their minds focused on the business at hand was something Rex credited to the fact that, despite her beauty and provocative appearance, General Secura was a firm leader, a no-nonsense Jedi who ran her unit with such precision that her troops found their admiration for her skills to be a weightier balance than the allure of her other more . . . visual attributes.
Rex had decided there was no shame – as a male – in enjoying any opportunity to look upon General Secura, and this was one of those times.
He took one step down the corridor and stopped short.
The meeting in the corridor was not simply between a general and her first-in-command.
As Aayla raised her hand to caress Bly's cheek, it became clear that this encounter was between a Jedi and her lover. And when Bly bent down to kiss her, there remained no doubt in Rex's mind that he had stumbled upon something he'd not expected.
He backed quickly into the hall, pressing against the wall, praying he'd not been seen.
The initial surprise morphed quickly into a realization that this was not a situation with which he was unfamiliar – in a sense. After all, he was well aware of General Skywalker's relationship with Senator Amidala. True, the general had never spoken openly of the affair, but Rex was, for all intents and purposes, tucked away into his commanding officer's pocket and observant enough to notice that the interactions between the general and the senator went far beyond the cordial and professional decorum that marked most governmental relationships.
As a Jedi, General Skywalker had accepted the risk of giving in to and developing his attachment, contrary to the rules of his Order. That their forced secrecy rankled him was something Rex had noticed almost from his first moments of coming under the general's command. If it were up to the general, he would have broadcast their love clear to the outer rim. As it were, Senator Amidala, somewhat older and more measured in her decisions, knew that such a pronouncement would destroy her lover's standing in the Jedi Order, possibly even resulting in his expulsion. And that was something she could not tolerate. She knew – as did Rex – that the greatest Jedi in all of history was in their midst. Neither of them would do anything to thwart his success. And so, it was for his sake that both Rex and the Senator kept their silence.
As far as Rex was concerned, the devotion the general and senator shared was moving. And precarious. It was one more reason he was determined to protect his general at all costs. That a man would risk so much for the woman he loved . . . that alone deserved to be defended.
And now . . .
"Another secret I have to keep . . . does Bly know what he's getting into? I should talk to him about this. Fek, I don't want to do that. It's his business. I wouldn't even know what to say. But you know it's your duty to point out the dangers involved here. Fek. Fek and all."
He heard heavy footsteps coming down the corridor – Bly – and started walking as if he had just come to that intersection. A completely fortuitous and unforeseen meeting. He and Bly came face to face.
"Commander," Rex said, wondering if sounded as false as he imagined.
"Rex. I was just on my way to the mess. We still on?" Bly showed no embarrassment, so sense of having just been caught, and no discomfort.
"Looks like he didn't see me," Rex said internally, relieved. But his own demeanor, in return, still had the ring of a man who'd ventured upon a scene he was not meant to see. "Yeah, yeah. Uh, I was on my way, too. We can walk together."
They began walking. Neither man spoke, and the silence suddenly seemed unnatural to Rex. He had to say something, anything. But Bly beat him to it.
"Your man safely on his way to Kamino?"
"Yeah. I just came from the hangar. They should be clearing the ring within ten minutes or so," Rex replied.
"The enemy has a lot of ships out there. I hope they make it out," Bly remarked.
"They have fighter escort."
"Good, good."
They came to the officers' mess and went inside. At this hour there was only a handful of personnel present, and most of those were non-clone bridge officers. Even so, after the two had picked out something at the dispensers, Rex made sure to choose a table far off to the side.
Again, it was Bly who initiated the conversation. "So, what really happened on Umbara? We've all heard about it, but no first-hand accounts."
"What have you heard?" Rex asked.
"That General Krell was really a Separatist and that he sent you all into one no-win situation after another," Bly replied.
"He did," Rex agreed. "But we still beat him. No matter how many times he sent us into a death trap, we came out on top. We came out on top. We beat him. It cost me a lot of my men . . . and . . . and a good piece of my soul."
"Did one of your troopers execute him when he was being held prisoner?" Bly asked.
Rex did not hesitate or wobble in his response. "Yes."
"And?"
"And? And I support what he did. It may not have been the right thing to do, but it was the necessary thing to do," Rex replied.
"Is there a difference?"
"In the middle of hell, there's a difference," Rex said definitively.
Bly raised a curious eye.
Rex went on. "Meaning, murder might not be the right thing to do, but I'd murder the devil to get out of hell."
"But you didn't do it," Bly pressed. "It was one of your men. Was it on your orders?"
Rex hesitated. "It was . . . following my example."
And although this was a cryptic answer, Bly did not want to probe too near the wound. He had too much respect for his former rival.
"Fair enough," he conceded. Then after a short pause and a few bites, he went on, "And now, you've been honest enough to answer my questions. I think there are questions you want to ask me." His meaning was clear.
Rex felt that charge go through him again, that recognition that once again he had underestimated Bly. He swallowed the food he was chewing – that bought him a few seconds to figure out what his response would be. He kept in mind the fact that Bly, like Cody, was a commander. Certain protocols were in place, despite their history. He did not want to overstep his bounds.
"I, uh, I . . . wouldn't even know how to start," he said.
"Then let me start. I know you saw us," Bly said, his manner easy and undisturbed, very un-Bly. "I saw you in the hallway."
Rex flushed red. "Why didn't you say so?"
"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," Bly answered.
"This isn't making me uncomfortable?" Rex challenged. He drew in a deep breath. "Did General Secura see me?"
"We both did."
"Eh, that's great." It was unavoidable now. Both Bly and General Secura knew that Rex was onto them. As if his life were not complicated enough at the moment, now he had to contend with this. But, seeing that the subject had now been broached, Rex felt a reluctant obligation to address it. He could no longer pretend that he hadn't seen, that ignorance was bliss. Not anymore.
"You know the rules, Commander," he said quietly.
"I know them, Rex. And no need to be so formal. If you recall, there was a time when you never showed me any respect at all. Don't overdo it now."
"We were competitors then, on an even playing field," Rex replied. "You're my superior now."
"That's no more true now than it was then, but that's not what we're talking about," Bly stated in his blunt way.
Rex frowned. "Is this—does your battalion know about this?"
"We try to keep it secret."
Rex guffawed. "You haven't been onboard the Justice but for a few hours, and I've already caught you. If you're trying to keep it secret, you're doing a bad job." He leaned forward. "This isn't just a Jedi breaking her oath. This is fraternization within the chain-of-command. Bly, this is the sort thing you can be court-martialed for. General Secura, too."
"If it comes to that," Bly said, and he sounded anything but worried.
Rex was flabbergasted by the commander's dismissive attitude. "How—how serious is this, Bly?"
Bly considered for a moment. "Very."
"How long's it been going on?"
"Almost from the day I got assigned to the 327th," Bly replied.
Rex could hardly believe his ears, but the only indication he gave was a slight crease in his brow. "You mean, when we were together on Meridun . . . "
"Yes, even then."
Despite himself, Rex sighed out a long, slow expletive. "Fek and all . . . " He corralled his wits. "I mean, how? How did it happen?"
"It just did," Bly replied. "There was something there right away." A pause. "She . . . she finished what you all started in ARC training."
"What? You mean the process of turning you from a flaming bastard into a halfway decent human being?" Rex poked.
Bly grinned. Two times in so short a period of time. Rex counted it as almost miraculous.
"Sure, that too," the commander replied with his own good humor. "But I was referring to the anger, the hatred I had for . . . well, everybody. At ARC training, that started to change. And as much as I hate to admit it, you had a lot to do with that."
"Don't get soppy."
"It's called being grateful, Rex," Bly pointed out. "I'm grateful for what you and the rest of them did. Now, I'm grateful for Aayla."
In some strange way, talking to Bly made Rex feel as if he were back in ARC training. He felt his spirits lifting.
"I'm . . . not sure what to say," he said, leaning back and shaking his head. "This is . . . surprising, to say the least."
"I was surprised, too," Bly admitted. After a long pause, he went on in what almost approached a reverie. "Knowing there's a woman who loves you . . . it changes everything, Rex. I can't explain it."
Rex considered before answering. "You don't have to. I understand."
Bly eyed him with scrutiny. "Do you? Is that because . . . you know what I'm talking about?"
Rex had no reason to hide his feelings for Maree. There was nothing forbidden in his love for her. There was nothing forbidden in her love for him. And they had both agreed that any union between them would have to wait until the next world.
"I know what you're talking about," Rex conceded. "But . . . it's not quite the same."
Bly grinned. "You surprise me, Rex. I didn't think you had it in you. I thought the only thing you loved was being a soldier."
It was an interesting statement. Rex wasn't sure if what he loved was being a soldier or rather, the chance to serve General Skywalker and lead the men who comprised his family. What he was sure of was the fact that his feelings for Maree were of a completely different bent.
"It doesn't really matter. I can't be with her," Rex said flatly.
"Another forbidden attachment? Our ARC class seems to be very good at those," Bly quipped.
"She's not a Jedi. She's the head of a religious order."
"A religious order? How the hell did that happen?"
Rex was placid. "We crash-landed on her planet. Her order took care of us, protected us when the Separatists came looking. I . . . really disliked her at first, but then it all changed." He shook his head slowly in a helpless recollection of joyful memories. "Unlike the Jedi, she's allowed to form attachments. Her order even encourages it. But . . . "
"But?"
"They're celibate."
Here, despite his best efforts, Bly broke into apologetic laughter. "I—I'm sorry, but you—you've got to be kidding me! You take it all, Rex!" Still laughing, he lowered his voice and leaned forward. Wiping his eyes, he tittered, "Leave it to you to want a woman you can't have."
Rex, somewhat relieved to have Bly take the seriousness out of the conversation, allowed a rejoinder of his own. "You're a bog swill, Bly. It may not have occurred to you, but you can love someone even if they're celibate."
"Fek and all, Rex, you amaze me. You still amaze me!" Bly chuckled. "She must be some woman."
"She is."
"Enough to give up the Army for?"
Rex was stunned by the question. It reminded him of Cut Laquane, the clone deserter he had met on Saleucemi. "I would never give up the Army," he replied. "And I won't have to. When the time comes, we'll be together." Then, eager to preempt the logical questions that such a vague statement would prompt, he posed the same question to Bly.
"You're not thinking of leaving the GAR, are you?"
Bly gave a short burst of a laugh. "Ha! Even if I wanted to, she wouldn't let me. She might prefer the role of peacekeeper, but she's all in on the war until it's over. She considers this to be her fight, the Jedi's fight now. If I tried to leave, she'd probably gut me with her own light saber."
"Do you want to leave?"
"Hell no. I've always had a reason to fight . . . to honor my brothers' sacrifice. But now, I have another reason," Bly replied. Another thoughtful pause. "I'd die for her this second, anything to protect her." A chuckle. "The funny thing, as a Jedi, she's usually the one protecting me."
Rex nodded. "I know that feeling. General Skywalker is the same way. Always out in—"
His wrist comm buzzed.
"Rex here."
"Rex." General Skywalker's voice. "Big problem. Tup's shuttle was attacked. I need you in Hanger 8P now."
"Yes, General. On my way." He stood up, and Bly stood up with him. "I've got to run. It was good to see you again Bly. Hopefully, we'll see each other more over the next two weeks."
"I hope so," Bly replied, adding, "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this to yourself, Rex."
"That's twice today you've asked me to keep something to myself," Rex replied. "You owe me."
"Name your payback."
"Eh, I can't think of anything right now," Rex remarked. "Just . . . keep it in mind the next time I need something from you – which is never."
With that, he was on his way to Hangar 8P.