Dear Reader, thank you to my reviewers, Australian Dealer, Kingsforcedvacation, Dz, Sued13, Cuthalion97, princess-rey-tano, Ms CT-782, and Shadowlight. It means so much to me. This is a fairly long chapter (to help pass a few minutes of the COVID-19 lockdown, at least). Lots of different angles in here. The one angle that is missing is . . . well, you'll see. I didn't want to just repeat the entirety of what we already saw in the series, so I approached this part of the story from the perspective of other characters. I hope you enjoy! Peace, CS
Chapter 116 The Eyes of a Madman
"Yet mad I am not . . . and very surely do I not dream."
The Black Cat
Edgar Allen Poe
There was at least one good thing about returning to Coruscant.
"Padme. It will be so good to see her."
On his last abrupt journey to Coruscant to see the Chancellor, he'd not even had time to see his secret wife. Even now, he was considering whether or not he should tell her about that visit. She would be upset to know he'd not come to see her. She'd be even more than upset to hear that he'd been pulled away during such a crucial battle. Anakin knew Padme distrusted the Chancellor, so there was no chance that he would divulge the conversation of his visit. He could tell her he'd been see Palpatine, but nothing more - and even that would be treading close to the line.
And the last thing he wanted on his return home was contention. He'd had more than enough of that lately. Padme was his respite, his escape from recent trials.
Yes, he would be very happy to see her.
Very happy.
For other than his wife, there was nothing to look forward to on this visit.
There was only dread.
The Justice was pulling into its planet-side docking bay. Anakin felt the magnetic moors latch on and secure the ship with a gentle shudder.
He turned away from the bridge viewport and put a hand on the helmsman's shoulder. "Good job, Camel. Smooth as glass."
The clone smiled. "Thank you, General Skywalker. She handles nicely."
"That's cause you've got the right touch."
Anakin exited the bridge. The rest of docking protocols belonged to Admiral Yularen and his crew of Navy specialists. The Justice might be Anakin's flagship, but it was Yularen's naval vessel, his piece of hardware, and he was responsible for its upkeep and maintenance, its day-to-day operation.
And Anakin was glad to have it so.
He headed for the gangway hatch, arriving just as the gangway locked into place, and the door swooshed open.
As other members of the crew exited the ship around him, and members of the station's reception crew came onboard to begin their arrival routines, Anakin stopped short.
Only for a moment. He needed to maintain the appearance that he was in charge, not disturbed, not even mildly ruffled. He came forward to meet the man who stood on the threshold, regarding him steadily with the same sort of sneering smirk Anakin had seen on this face the last time the two of them had met.
"Captain Tarkin."
"It's Admiral, now, General Skywalker. Or have you forgotten?"
Anakin reflected back the same self-satisfied arrogance being directed at him. "No, I hadn't forgotten. Sometimes, it's hard for me to remember we're equals now."
Tarkin turned and gestured that they should start walking. Anakin obliged.
"I see you still haven't forgiven me for what happened with your padawan," Tarkin put forth.
"I've put all that behind me," Anakin replied. "It was Ahsoka's decision. I disagreed with her, but I can understand why she left."
"Well, no great loss, if you ask me," the admiral replied dismissively.
"I didn't ask you," Anakin retorted smoothly. "Your opinion on that matter doesn't mean anything to me. You wanted to get rid of her. You succeeded. Is that why you came all the way out here? To gloat after all these months?"
"Not at all," Tarkin said. "After all, I was only the prosecutor. Be honest, General Skywalker . . . it was the Jedi Council that dealt the greater injury by . . . casting her out of the Order. I won't deny that I took pleasure in doing my job; but since then, to tell the truth, I haven't given that a second thought. And that's not why I'm here." A pause. "I'm here because I've been appointed the investigating officer in the command inquiry regarding your captain and the death of General Krell."
Now, Anakin halted and faced him in barely concealed disbelief. "You? They appointed you?"
Tarkin grinned from one corner of his mouth. "I volunteered."
Anakin glowered. "I should have guessed. You want to do to Rex what you did to Ahsoka."
"You're looking at this the wrong way, General Skywalker," Admiral Tarkin said, shaking his head with a slight grin. "You see . . . you're one of the few Jedi I find tolerable, even admirable. And while I hold your captain in somewhat less esteem, I still credit him with being a credit to you." He lowered his voice a notch. "Believe me, I'm the one you want conducting this investigation."
They began walking again. Tarkin went on. "And after all, one less Jedi – especially a corrupt turncoat – isn't something you'll hear me complaining about. With all due respect."
"Yeah, that was filled with respect," Anakin scoffed. "I already know how you feel about the Jedi. I know what you think of me. Why would I trust you to give Rex a fair hand?"
"You don't know nearly as much as you think you do, General Skywalker," Tarkin corrected. "I am not your enemy. I am not your captain's enemy." A pause. "And neither is the Chancellor."
Anakin glanced briefly sideways at him. "What has the Chancellor got to do with this?"
"He directed the Supreme Commander of the Grand Army to personally appoint me. That was after I told the Chancellor how much trust I had in you and your captain," Tarkin explained. "I told you before . . . I have the Chancellor's ear. He values my opinion. He listens to me."
Anakin was tempted to breach the secrecy of his own favor with Palpatine, but he kept his peace. This was no time for one-upmanship. After a brief pause, he inquired evenly, "So, when does your investigation begin?"
"It already has," Tarkin replied. "I've already spoken to the trooper who actually committed the act—"
"Dogma."
"Yes." Tarkin grinned. "An interesting name. It suits him. I found him to be very honest, very forthcoming. Very bound to the rules." The grin returned to his face. "I've also reviewed the footage from the cell block . . . until it was turned off." The grin moved into a chuckle. "He must have known that a lack of footage would be just as incriminating as actual images of the execution."
"Not quite as incriminating," Anakin corrected. "He did what he felt was the right thing. And I happen to agree with him." A pause. "I take it you'll be wanting to do interviews."
"Of course," Tarkin replied. "I believe in being thorough. Here's a list of those with whom I wish to speak. Keep them quartered on the Justice until I've had a chance to talk to them. Once I no longer have any questions, you can give them liberty."
Anakin took the chip. "I'll do that." He took a moment to perfect his gaze before regarding the admiral with eyes filled with tacit warning. "And I expect you to treat my captain with respect."
"Of course," came the flippant reply, spoken with the air of a man who knew he was in charge. "He's not under arrest. He's not a criminal. This is an investigation to determine if judicial or non-judicial punishment is warranted. Or . . . no punishment at all."
Anakin narrowed his gaze. "Why should I believe you're going to be fair?"
"I've already told you why," Tarkin replied. "You can believe me or not." He turned to leave. "But it would benefit you – and your captain – if you did."
"This shouldn't count. You all—you're all drunk. I'm not going to be roped into something that I know I'll regret just because I lost a bet to a bunch of drunks—"
"We weren't drunk when we made the bet."
"And I'm not drunk at all."
Kix looked at Jesse. It was true; he wasn't drunk.
"And you lost fair and square."
"How's it fair, Pitch? We bet on kills. I'm a medic. I specialize in saves, not kills."
"You made the bet! You agreed! You were sober and you agreed! Fek and all, Kix, you've never been drunk in your life! You made the bet knowing damned well what—hup—what it was about. Now, it's time to pay—pay up." Hardcase's voice was filled with mirthful accusation.
"Yeah, but we didn't say anything about sitting in the buzzer's chair. I'm not letting you all decide what happens to my head—"
Jesse gave an apologetic grin. "The bet was that whoever had the least kills would have to do whatever the others decided. You lost and we decided."
A frowning smile of resignation settled on Kix's face. "Okay, okay. There's no way to get out of this, I guess, so let's get it overwith. I still say it isn't fair."
He felt Top's heavy arm encircled his shoulders. "Don't fret over it. You may end up liking it."
"Between the four of you, there's not enough taste to fill a grain of salt," Kix pushed back. "If you guys end up making me look like a bantha coat, I can promise you that, no matter how long it takes, I'll find a way to get even."
"I'll make sure they don't get carried away—" Top began.
"It's not them I'm worried about—well, maybe Hardcase," Kix pushed back. "It's you. Look at your own hair—"
"It's stunning," Top interrupted with blunt humor. "I'm the envy of the whole battalion."
"Oh, for the love of . . . " Jesse said, shaking his head. "Come on, let's go. If we wait too long, the best buzzers will all be closed."
"The lower levels of Coruscant have the best buzzers? You really are drunk, Jesse." This from Pitch.
"Not in the least," Jesse corrected. "And you know as well as I do that the most . . . original buzzers are in the lowest levels."
"So, I guess we're headed down."
"Way down."
KIx smiled at the memory.
They had found the best buzzer. A Weequay with his own headful of woven locks, an artist of sorts who could have passed as a tauntaun stylist.
Each one of Kix's squad mates had blurted out his own idea of what the appropriate cut would be for the hapless medic; but the buzzer had his own thoughts on the matter.
The end result had been something Kix would never have envisioned for himself; but upon first sight, he felt as if nothing could have suited him better. In fact, he'd been so inspired by the cut that he'd procured his infamous tattoo that same night.
"A good droid is a dead droid."
Never mind that droids weren't really alive. He'd known what he'd meant. Every clone understood. Everyone who'd fought against a droid understood.
That night . . . that night with his squad mates, his brothers . . . it was one of his fondest memories. They had just come back from their first full rotation on the battlefield. Their first experience as members of the 501st. Those days were filled with victory, filled with purpose and hope. And in some filamentary way, filled with a contentment that came from the sense of belonging – belonging with his squad mates, his platoon mates, his battalion mates. He'd made it through the trials of Kamino. They'd stood beside him as he'd raised trouble all around them. Ultimately, they'd saved him. And he knew what he owed them.
Coming back to Coruscant now still had the power to enkindle those earlier memories, to make him smile and take joy in days past. The sadness at having lost one of their number was softened in some small part by the knowledge that in a day or two, there would be a reunion with Pitch.
That prospect made Kix very happy. And very anxious.
He came and stood at the foot of Jesse's bunk. "You ready to go? I think I'm going to enjoy this shore leave."
Jesse frowned. "I can't go."
"What?"
"General Skywalker just comm'd me. The investigating officer wants to talk to me. I need to stay on board until he releases me."
Kix sighed, but he understood. "Then I'll stay here with you."
"Pitch is going to be expecting you," Jesse pointed out.
"Not for two days. And if you're still restricted here, then I will go meet him alone." A pause. "I haven't heard from the general, so I guess the IO doesn't want to talk to me."
"Be glad," Jesse replied. "It's Admiral Tarkin."
"Admiral Tarkin? Again? He was the prosecutor against Commander Tano."
Jesse nodded. "I know."
"Oh, that's not a good sign," Kix lamented.
"Well . . . it shouldn't go too badly," Jesse replied. "They've let us go these past few months without trying to lock us up. I find it hard to believe they'd try to do so now."
"I wish I had your confidence," Kix said. "The last few months have kind of . . . shaken my faith in the system."
"Don't let that happen to you, Kix," Jesse warned, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "That's what happened to me on Umbara. I don't want to see you going through the same doubts. There are two people you can always count on: the captain and the general."
"And you."
Jesse gave a slight, wan smile. "No . . . not always." His voice contained a knowing tone.
"That wasn't your fault," Kix pushed back. "You got caught up in the craziness just like everyone else did. Just like Hardcase. Just like Tup. Just like Fives."
"You're always ready to forgive me, aren't you?"
Now, it was Kix's turn to smile. "Sometimes it isn't easy."
"Yeah, well, I don't want to make it any harder, so I'm telling you right now, you don't need to hang out onboard ship with me until the IO releases me. Go into the city, Kix," Jesse insisted. "You deserve some R&R probably more than any of us."
"I'm just as happy to stay here. I can relax on board just as well as planet-side."
"Okay . . . suit yourself. I know it makes no sense to try and argue with you."
"It's taken you a long time to realize that."
A brief silence fell before Kix spoke up again. "I wonder what's happening with Tup and Fives right now."
"I haven't heard anything," Jesse replied. "At least on Kamino, Tup is in the best hands."
Kix was almost hesitant. "I still don't really understand why they decided to keep Fives."
"The captain didn't elaborate on it. He just said they wanted to run some tests," Jesse stated. "Maybe because the two of them spent so much time together."
"You spent a lot of time with Fives, as well."
"That's true. Maybe they'll send for me next to run tests on. I don't know, Kix. I haven't heard any updates. I have no idea what's going on with either of them."
Jesse left it at that. The truth was, he was more concerned about what was going to happen here on Coruscant as part of the investigation than he was about the status of Tup and Fives. But that was something he would never let on to Kix – or anyone else.
"I'm sorry about this, Rex. But if we don't want even more trouble, it's best you stay aboard the Justice until Tarkin's done interviewing you."
"It's not a problem, General. I don't mind. I understand completely. I just hope he doesn't take the whole of our shore leave."
"I think that's the least of our problems," Anakin replied. "You know Admiral Tarkin and I aren't on the best of terms."
"That's a . . . diplomatic way to put it, Sir," Rex noted lightly.
Anakin grit his teeth. "I'm going to make sure he does this the right way. I'm not—I'm not going to let him put you on trial like he did Ahsoka." His speech halted short, and Rex could see the anger rising in his countenance, as he corrected his own statement. "It wasn't Tarkin who put her on trial. It was the Council . . . they just gave in to the Senate . . . they didn't care what happened to her. And she left." His jaw clenched. "Now, the Council wants to investigate you. The Senate wants an investigation. But I'm not going to let the same thing happen to you, Rex. You're not going to prison."
Rex was surprised at his commanding officer's vehemence. "I wasn't worried about going to prison, General. I just want to tell them what happened. I want them to know what General Krell did on Umbara, what he did to the battalion. I want them to know the truth."
Anakin's reply was chilling. "I'm not sure the truth matters to anyone anymore."
"It matters to me, Sir."
At this simple, earnest statement, Anakin nodded and put a hand on Rex's shoulder. "The last honest man in the galaxy."
"Not the last, General. There are plenty of honest men. I'm counting on Admiral Tarkin to be one of them."
"You're an optimistic man, Rex," Anakin replied, and deep down, he added, "And too trusting. That's what got you in trouble on Umbara."
At that moment, Anakin's wrist comm buzzed.
"Skywalker here."
"General, this is comm ops. I've got a holo-comm for you coming from Kamino. It's Jedi General Shaak Ti."
Anakin exchanged a concerned look with his captain before replying, "Put it through."
The image of General Shaak Ti appeared above the wrist comm.
"General Shaak Ti, is everything alright?" Anakin inquired, bypassing any formal greeting.
"I'm afraid not, General Skywalker," came the reply. "Clone Trooper Tup has died. Clone Trooper Fives has made a discovery that bears looking into. I am on my way to see the Chancellor, and I am bringing Fives with me."
"This sounds serious," Anakin ventured.
"It may be. I can fill you in on the details after our arrival. We should be arriving in less than two days."
"Let me know when you get here."
The holo blinked out.
Anakin glanced at Rex. "What discovery do you think Fives could have made, especially one that warrants a trip to see the Chancellor?"
"Maybe he found out what made Tup go crazy," Rex offered.
"I would think that the medical professionals would be the ones to find out something like that," Anakin replied.
"As would I," Rex agreed. "But General Shaak Ti is bringing him herself, so it must be something legitimate."
Anakin sighed heavily. "It's never-ending, Rex. I find myself asking, what's next?"
"If you come up with a good answer, Sir . . . let me know."
"It's good of you to make time to see me, Captain. Sit down, sit down."
Rex was the well-measured pinnacle of decorum and protocol, as always. He sat. "I'm on your time table, Admiral."
"Still, you and your general could have made this difficult. I'm glad to have your cooperation."
"I'll answer whatever questions you have for me," Rex replied.
"Oh, I don't have many. I can be extraordinarily thorough with only a very few questions," Tarkin said with that self-satisfied grin that looked like a sneer. He leaned back in the chair in his temporary office aboard the Justice. "So, let's start with the facts. You've never denied that it was your idea, your intention to execute General Krell. I read your initial statements on the matter. Do you still maintain that it was your idea?"
"I do, Sir."
"Well, then, I would like to hear how you came to that decision. What led you to the point where you decided it was necessary to kill a Jedi?"
"Not a Jedi, Sir. A traitor. And . . . not just a traitor, but an agent of the Dark Side."
"Hmph. What do you know of the Dark Side, Captain? No more than I do. You see, you and I are fighting men. The hocus-pocus of the Jedi doesn't warrant so much attention from us, does it."
"I don't consider the Force to be hocus-pocus, Admiral," Rex protested.
"Oh, I don't deny its existence. That would be foolishness," Tarkin conceded. "I simply meant that the realm of the Force is better left to the contemplation of the Jedi. It's perfectly understandable – and acceptable – that your hatred of General Krell would have been sufficient with or without him being an agent of the Dark Side, as you say. But that's not important. Just tell me how it came about that you decided he needed to die."
"I've put everything in my statements," Rex replied. "I'd be glad to go through it all again, but if you've already read my statement, you know what happened."
"Indeed, I have read it. But I'd like to hear you actually tell the story."
Rex began evenly. "I did everything I could to follow General Krell's orders. I disagreed with almost every decision he made, but he was in command."
Tarkin listened intently to the recounting of events. He found the details perversely enthralling. And even more peculiar was the way he found himself warming up to General Skywalker's first-in-command as the story unfolded.
Rex was not hesitant to give a full account of what had happened. This was what he'd wanted – a chance to tell the story from his vantage point. Nearly an hour later, he was coming to the end.
"Once we discovered that he'd set us up against the 212th, that's when I made the decision to take him into custody. We . . . lost a lot of men in the process, but we were able to finally take him prisoner and put him the facility we were using as a prison. He admitted the whole thing. He admitted that he wasn't working for the Republic. He admitted wanting to work for Dooku, and he made it clear that he planned on benefitting from a Separatist victory." A pause. "The Umbarans were fleeing the capital and heading for the airbase. I was afraid they would free him if they got to the base and overran us."
"And that's when you decided to execute him."
"Yes, Sir."
"Were you the only one involved in the decision? After all, there were other clone troopers with you at the moment of execution."
"It was discussed among several of us, but the decision was mine."
"Despite the fact that so many of your decisions had been disobeyed by some of your men, yet I am supposed to believe that this was your decision alone?"
"As I said, it was discussed, but I made the call. I determined Krell needed to be executed."
Tarkin nodded slowly . "And you were going to carry it out yourself."
"Yes."
"Then why did you take other troopers with you?"
"For safety. General Krell had already succeeded in wiping out half of my battalion. I wasn't going to face him alone."
"And you took . . . CT-5597 and CT-5385, ARC Trooper 5555."
"Yes."
"They are on my interview list, but . . . of course, CT-5385 and ARC Trooper 5555 are . . . unavailable at the moment." Tarkin grinned with an almost mocking expression of indulgence. "There was also CT-9810. I wonder how a trooper being held prisoner becomes the one who actually carries out the execution."
"We took Dogma out of his cell. I didn't want him to be there to witness what was going to happen, but . . . "
"But . . . what, Captain?"
"I couldn't wait for him to be taken out. I had to do it while I—while I felt like I could find the courage." Rex frowned and looked at the wall past Admiral Tarkin. "It turned out . . . I didn't have the courage. I never had it. It was Dogma who stepped up where I failed."
"Then I, for one, shall consider him a hero," Tarkin stated. "And that does not take anything away from your own wise judgment in deciding Krell needed to be terminated. What other options did you have?"
"As far as I'm concerned, none."
"To which I fully agree." Tarkin rose from his seat. "I think I have all I need to know. You are free to leave the ship, Captain Rex."
Rex was perplexed. "We're finished?"
"I told you I need to ask very few questions," Tarkin replied. "You're free to go."
Rex stood up, expecting to be called back again, imagining he was being toyed with.
He was at the door, just about to go out when Tarkin spoke again.
"You're very fortunate, Captain Rex. I think quite highly of General Skywalker, as does the Chancellor," he said. "That redounds to your benefit."
Rex had no words to respond. No idea what to say, if, in fact, a response was expected.
But for Admiral Tarkin, no answer was necessary. No answer was expected.
None at all.
"I'm telling you, Kix, it was weird. He only asked me a couple questions. It felt like . . . like he'd already decided what his findings were going to be," Jesse explained. "And the strangest part . . . I . . . I got the feeling he was . . . on our side."
Kix raised a questioning eyebrow. "Well . . . that's pretty hard to believe."
"I know. I thought the same thing. It wasn't what I expected."
"That's a good thing, right?" Kix proposed.
"Unless he's fooling all of us," Jesse replied. "Either way, he said I can leave the ship. What do you say we go into the city."
"Sounds good to me," Kix nodded. "And tomorrow, we get Pitch back."
"And we'll give that a proper celebration," Jesse grinned.
"It will be nice to have something to celebrate."
"No kidding. I think it's long overdue."
"You know . . .when you do things like that, it makes me wonder how I'm going to make it through the next deployment."
"That's the whole idea." Padme pushed up onto one elbow. "I don't want you to forget what's waiting for you back here."
Anakin gave a small chuckle. "I could never forget . . . with or without the, uh . . . the welcome home."
"Does that mean you love me for my mind?" Padme teased.
"And your personality," Anakin quipped. He closed his arms around her, drawing her more closely. "I love everything about you. Everything."
"I could tell you had a lot on your mind," Padme told him. "You tried to hide it from me, but I knew you were upset. I wanted to help take your mind off it for at least a little while."
"It's been one mess after another, but I didn't want to burden you with all that," Anakin replied.
"It's not a burden, Ani. I want to know when things are weighing you down. That's what marriage is about – sharing the good and the bad. You're worried about the investigation."
"It's more than that," Anakin sighed. "There have been so many strange things happening in the battalion lately. I can't figure it out. But . . . it's Rex I'm worried about."
"Rex?" Padme was surprised. "Ani, he's always steady. He'll make it through this just fine."
"It's not his . . . state of mind I'm worried about," Anakin stated. "You're right. Rex isn't going to be changed by these things. What worries me is that they're going to try and put him in prison. Padme, I can't let that happen. I won't let it happen."
"Oh, Ani . . . "
"I don't know what I'd do without him. We've served together for so long. This isn't the way we're going to part. It's wrong, Padme. It's wrong."
"I'm sure you're right, Anakin," Padme replied gently, caressing his cheek. "I don't see how they can come to any kind of adverse findings. Rex did what he had to do. And the things that happened on Ringo Vinda are still unexplained. Neither you nor Rex can be blamed for those things—"
On the table across the room, Anakin's wrist comm buzzed.
"They never give you any peace, do they?" Padme smiled.
"Well, they can wait this time. I'm sure whatever it is will still be there after I've had some time with my wife—"
"Master Skywalker, this is Master Windu. Please respond."
"Anakin—"
"They can wait—he can wait, Padme."
"Master Windu is on Naboo right now. For him to be contacting you, it must be important. I won't be at ease until you take talk to him," Padme said, verbally ushering him towards answering the call.
"Fine. I'll keep in mind that you prefer business to pleasure." Anakin rolled out of the bed, crossed the room, and picked up the comm. "This is Skywalker."
"Skywalker. This is Master Windu. Report to the Jedi Temple for a holo-con at 2200 hours."
Anakin looked at his chronometer. 2200 hours was in fifteen minutes.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"There's been some trouble at the Chancellor's offices," Windu replied.
"What kind of trouble?"
"Trouble involving your trooper. Get to the holo-con and we'll discuss it in more detail. WIndu out."
Anakin stared at the silent wrist comm for a moment then looked back at Padme, the image of beauty and desire, lying naked, partially covered by a rumpled sheet; and he could not deny that he seriously considered not responding to the summons.
But if there was trouble at the Chancellor's office, the "trooper" in question was undoubtedly Fives. And Fives had a history of leaving turmoil in his wake. General Shaak Ti had comm'd Anakin over an hour ago to announce that their ship was still about 90 minutes out and that they would be reporting directly to the Chancellor's office. Clearly, something had happened since that last communication.
"Looks like I've got to go," he announced.
"What do you think has happened?" Padme asked.
"With Fives, it could be anything," Anakin replied. "Master Shaak Ti told me he'd made a discovery that needed to be brought to the Chancellor's attention. Fives face-to-face with the Chancellor might not have been a good idea. Master Windu said there was trouble, but who knows what kind of trouble."
"Just . . . be careful, Ani. Sometimes I feel that . . . the Chancellor creates his own problems."
When Anakin entered the briefing room, only Master Shaak Ti was present.
"What's going on?" Anakin inquired directly. "Master Windu sounded urgent."
"Let's open the holo-con, and I can tell the story to all of you at the same time," Shaak Ti replied. Her fingers moved swiftly over the controls.
The holographic figures of Masters Windu, Yoda and Plo Koon appeared.
"Gentlemen, we have a problem," Shaak Ti began. She pulled up a startling image.
It was Fives, clearly fleeing in a panic, knocking over any personnel who got in his way.
Shaak Ti went on. "Just over thirty minutes ago, at approximately 2120 hours, Clone Trooper Fives attacked the Chancellor, eluded pursuit, and escaped into the populace."
"What?" Anakin was incredulous. "How could that have happened? That doesn't sound like Fives. That imagine, that doesn't even look like Fives." Yet, as the image rotated and the stylized "5" tattoo came into view, the identity of the clone became less doubtful.
"Allow me to provide some background," Shaak Ti went on. "Clone Trooper Tup died shortly after his arrival on Kamino, but not before Fives took things into his own hands and managed to remove a tumor from Tup's brain. We don't know if it was the removal that caused Tup's death, or if the tumor had already succumbed too far to the virus—"
"Fives removed the tumor?" Anakin was doubtful.
"He had the assistance of a medical droid," Shaak Ti replied. A pause. "As it turned out . . . the tumor wasn't a tumor at all. It was an organic chip implanted into each clone during the growth process. I was never made aware of this, and Nala Se explained that it was an inhibitor chip, meant to suppress the more violent tendencies of the Jango Fett template and make the clones more obedient. She said Master Sifo-Dyas ordered they be implanted back when he commissioned the clone army."
All were silent for a moment as this announcement sunk in. Then Master Yoda spoke. "Informed of this chip, none of us were."
"Yet, it is true that the chip exists in every clone," Shaak Ti replied. "I saw it myself. It's very cleverly hidden, very precisely engineered. We owe Fives a debt of gratitude for discovering it."
"Is the chip behind what happened to Trooper Tup?" Windu inquired.
"Given that the chip is meant to inhibit such violent and unpredictable behavior, I would say that the chip itself is not the cause. But when compared with a healthy chip, Tup's showed severe signs of disease and degradation. There's no saying what may have caused the chip to deteriorate. Throughout all our procedures, none of our tests could confirm the presence of a virus. We were still in the process of running post-mortem tests when Fives removed his own chip—"
"Fives removed his own chip?" This from Plo Koon.
"Again, he had the assistance of a medical droid," Shaak Ti explained. "Once he showed me what he had discovered, I thought it should be brought to the attention of the Chancellor. We brought all the medical data and both chips with us to Coruscant. Nala Se accompanied us. When we arrived, the Chancellor wanted to see Fives alone, with only his security detail. But within a few minutes of leaving Fives with the Chancellor, he attacked him. The Chancellor said Fives tried to kill him."
"I can't believe Fives would try to assassinate the Chancellor," Anakin protested. "That doesn't sound like him."
"The Kaminoans still believe a virus corrupted the inhibitor chip, which has led to this behavior. ARC Trooper Fives thinks he is the victim of a plot, Separatist or otherwise. And while I saw no evidence of a virus, right now there is no viable explanation. Fives believes that all the clones should have the chip removed to prevent what happened to Tup from happening to other clones. If the chip deteriorates, it has the potential to made a clone irrational or make them crazy. Tup kept repeating over and over that he was to kill the Jedi. Right now, there's no guarantee that the same thing won't happen to Fives after removing his own chip without the proper medical oversight."
"All security and Republic Guard clone forces on Coruscant have been ordered to join the man-hunt. The Chancellor has been moved to his Senate quarters, and the perimeter has been secured," Master Windu announced. "However, Jedi involvement has not been requested."
"That's a little odd, isn't it?" Anakin queried.
"Discover the truth, we must." This, from Yoda.
"If there is a plot involving the clones, we must get to the bottom of it," Mace stated emphatically. "We will investigate quietly under cover. We must make sure this clone is not killed."
While Anakin fully understood the importance of keeping Fives alive as part of the Jedi investigation, it rankled him somewhat that no one seemed to be taking into account that Fives was not simply a trooper involved in a mystery, but a living, breathing human being who deserved to be helped for his own sake.
"I'll handle this investigation," he stated in voice that did not invite debate. "Fives was part of the 501st. If Rex and I find him, he'll trust us."
"Be wary," Shaak Ti warned. "Since he removed his inhibitor chip, Fives may no longer be the man you once knew."
"Kripes, this place is a dive. We've got to find some better places to unwind," KIx stated.
"We've always come to 79s," Jesse reminded him. "It's not so bad." He led the way to the end of the bar and sat down. "What'll you have? It's on me."
"I think I'll actually have something with some kick to it tonight," Kix replied. "It's been a hard few months. I'll have a Kerlick."
Jesse chuckled. "Mother's milk."
He ordered from the bar tender, then as he and Kix waited for the drinks to arrive, he observed his surroundings.
"Kix—look, that's—that's Double Ones!"
"You're right!"
The two men got up and went over to where their batcher stood with a group of three other clones.
"Double Ones?"
The man turned and immediately broke into a cry of joy. "Jesse! Jesse! 6618!"
"It's Kix now," Kix grinned.
Double Ones extended a wide embrace that encompassed both of them. "This is fantastic! We haven't seen each other since leaving Kamino! I—I didn't even know if you chaps were still alive!"
"Hey, did you forget us?" This from another of the clones with Double Ones.
Jesse and Kix both proclaimed together, "Bead!"
Kix glanced at the third clone. "Chips!"
"Fek and all, it's great to see you boys!" Jesse was grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other," Bead proclaimed. "We're being reassigned to the 212th."
"Are you serious?"
"Hey, we didn't get plucked right out of Kamino to go to the banner battalion," Double Ones teased. "That was just Saber Squad. It's taken us a while to catch up."
"You all still went to our original assignment, right? The 960th MI, right?"
"Yeah, mounted infantry," Chips confirmed. "We've been with them since the war's start. But two weeks ago, we were on Pashtar and . . . we were decimated. They decided to reassign the survivors, that would be easier than trying to reconstitute the battalion. So, we're headed to the 212th."
"I'm sorry to hear what happened to the 960th, but it will be good to have you operating next to us most of the time from here on out," Jesse replied, then he asked somberly, "Do you know . . . how many of us are left?"
"Well, after you five left, we had twenty-five. We're down to eight."
"Eight . . . only eight," Jesse breathed, then quickly shaking off the depressive quality of this news, he asked hopefully, "Are you all coming to the 212th?"
"All of us," Double Ones replied. "What about you guys? How's Saber Squad fared these past few years?"
Jesse sighed. "We lost Hardcase on Umbara. Top took a command billet in the 808th. Pitch was injured but we're getting him back tomorrow."
"I'm sorry to hear that about Hardcase," Bead offered. "I didn't think they'd ever get him."
"They didn't," Jesse replied. "He sacrificed his life to save us."
A brief silence followed, then Double Ones smiled brilliantly again. "Damn, it really is good to see you again. Will you join us for a drink?"
"I'll tell you what," Jesse said, "It's been a hard few months for us, and I think we'd just like a couple quiet drinks between the two of us before heading back to the Justice. You okay if we take a pass? After all, we're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming months."
"No problem at all," Double Ones replied as the others nodded. "We understand completely."
"When do you ship out?"
"Tomorrow, actually."
"Well, then we'll see you once we go back to the front. We're here on a bit of R&R."
"Enjoy it."
Before they parted, Jesse added, "And let me assure you . . . you're going to love the 212th. Commander Cody and General Kenobi are a great team."
As they returned to their seats, Kix could not conceal the happiness this unexpected encounter had incited. "Imagine running into those guys here. And to learn they're coming to the 212th. It's almost like a miracle."
"It'll be good to be with our batchers again," Jesse agreed. No sooner had he finished his last word than he received a notice on his wrist comm. He could see right away that it was from Rex.
"Let me go outside to take this. It's too loud in here to hear anything. And don't drink my drink."
Kix sat alone while Jesse went outside. He got a certain amount of entertainment out of observing the club's patrons, but sitting alone in a drinking establishment was not something he cared to do for long.
Fortunately, Jesse came back inside within a couple minutes, but his expression was one of consternation.
"What is it?" Kix asked as Jesse sat back down and took a long, hard swig from his drink.
"Tup is dead," Jesse began. "Fives is back on Coruscant. He attacked the Chancellor. He's on the run and there's a manhunt on for him. General Skywalker and Rex have been put in charge of finding him."
Kix did not say anything for a long several seconds. At last, he asked quietly, "That's, uh . . . that's a lot to take in. Did Rex give any details about what happened?"
"Not really, he just asked us to be on the lookout for him," Jesse replied. "He did say he might be infected with the virus and that's he acting irrationally. If we see him, we need to approach him with caution." A pause. "I . . . I just can't believe it. Why would he attack the Chancellor? The captain said the Chancellor had offered to help him, so why would he do that? That—that makes no sense."
Kix was silent, prompting his squad mate to inquire.
"I mean, that sounds impossible, doesn't it?"
Kix glanced up and made brief eye contact. That moment conveyed Kix's thoughts on the matter without words.
"You think he really did it," Jesse stated.
"I don't know," Kix replied, "But I . . . think it's possible. Fives has always had his own way, done his own thing. And if he's been infected with that virus, that might have been all that was needed for him to go completely over the edge."
"Kix—"
"Look, it's no secret that Fives and I have never really gotten along," Kix went on. "But he was a battalion mate, and . . . for Echo's sake, I always did my best to treat Fives like a brother. I never wanted anything bad to happen to him. But . . . "
"But?"
"He's always had a disobedient streak—or call it independence, if you like—but it's gotten him into trouble before, and it looks like it's gotten him into trouble again."
"Fives always did what he thought was right," Jesse replied.
"Right for Fives. Not for everyone else," Kix disagreed.
"That wasn't how he saw it," Jesse said. "He believed that what was right for him was right for everyone else."
"And that's where he was mistaken." Kix was quietly vehement. "He—he had the best captain in the entire GAR take him in . . . not once, but twice. And he learned nothing from him. He still took his own counsel over Rex's. He had all of us to support him, but he didn't see any value in that—"
"You're wrong there, and you know it," Jesse pushed back gently. "But what he valued most . . . they're all dead. Echo was the last, and when he went, some part of Fives went with him. Maybe you can't imagine what that would feel like that right now, because you've still got me, and soon we'll have Pitch back. We just found out that some of our batchers are coming to the 212th. And we know that Top is still alive. We've only lost Hard Case, and . . . it's like you said, in some way, he's still with us."
Kix grinned in a skeptic's manner. "I thought you said that sort of thinking was too metaphysical for you."
"Maybe it is, but . . . here, look." He withdrew his personal HOPO and pulled up an image.
An image of five identical clones on their last day on Kamino.
"That's us," he said wistfully.
"I know that's us," Kix replied.
"Do you know which one is you?"
"Of course, I do. I know each one of us."
"But we all looked exactly alike back then," Jesse pointed out. "Same hair, same uniform, same everything. How can you tell us apart?"
"I don't know. Something in the eyes, maybe. The facial expressions. I don't know. I just can," Kix replied.
"That's how I keep him alive," Jesse said.
"By looking at this picture?"
"No. By picturing him as one distinct individual among millions of genetically identical men. No matter the sameness, we could always distinguish between each other. Hardcase was always Hardcase, even before Rex gave him his name. That's what works for me," he explained. "Something else works for you. Something else for Pitch, and something else for Top." A pause. "But for Fives . . . nothing works. Nothing brings Echo back to him. That emptiness has never been filled. I learned that from spending so much time with him on Umbara."
This was the Jesse Kix had grown up with. Thoughtful and steady, compassionate without an overflow of emotionalism. And his re-emergence made the Jesse of Umbara seem a million light years ago. For the first time in almost a year, Kix felt as if he had his squad mate back, just like the early days – and he did not want to share that moment with anyone else.
"I'll take your word for it," Kix replied. "But I don't want to talk about Fives. Let's just . . . we're out having a drink and good time."
"That's right," Jesse agreed. "And tomorrow, it will be even better because Pitch will be back with us."
"I can't wait to see him," Kix said and there was no mistaking the heartfelt sincerity in his voice.
"What time does his shuttle get in?"
"0920, so we can't pull an all-nighter," Kix replied.
"I think we're beyond those days, Kix," Jesse chuckled. "The only time we pull all-nighters now is on the battlefield. I'm sure it will be an early evening tonight. We'll have no problem getting to the port on time to meet him. Setting my HOPO now to make sure we don't oversleep." He held the device out to show Kix, who gave a small laugh.
"So, I'm trusting you to wake me up?"
"Who better than your second-in-command?" Jesse grinned.
Kix drained the remaining contents of his tankard then set it down on the bar. "I'll be back in a minute."
He made his way past the terrible dancers, the beckoning women, and the groups of troopers all comparing war stories. Despite the crowd in the club, the refresher was empty; and within its walls, the beat of the music vibrated with a muffled thumping. It almost felt like its own separate world – a dim, grimy hole within a hole in the wall.
He did what he'd come in to do then stopped at the disinfectant station. He looked at his reflection in the scratched, hazy mirror and took a moment to assess the image looking back at him.
There was a quietly happy aspect to that image – something Kix had not seen in a long while. And it amazed him just how much the appearance of that hopeful optimism enhanced the overall appearance of his own reflection.
Kix was not vain nor self-indulgent, but he knew he was considered attractive. The identical features every clone shared seemed to have remained un-aged with him. While many of his fellow batchers had become more grizzled with the war's progression, Kix had retained a youthful appearance; and considering the stresses of his profession, that was a surprise. His battalion mates often gave him a good-natured ribbing about his good looks while at the same time praising his acumen on the battlefield. Kix had grown used to it, and from time to time, when confronted with his own image, he allowed himself a moment to reflect upon and feel grateful for his appearance. But the steady drone of life as a fighting man, the unrelenting procession of death and injury, had the power to conceal even the most beautiful aspects of a physical appearance. To own the truth, Kix had felt over the past few months, that there hadn't been much worth seeing in the mirror. But not so anymore.
He was pleased with what he saw at this moment. If he'd been so inclined, he might have considered finding a woman for the night. That was just a passing fancy, though; for he'd never had one before, and he knew tonight would be no different. A soldier—a good soldier – had no time for that kind of dalliance. The curiosity was there. The desire was there. But the motivation to act upon that desire was kept well-regulated.
No, at this stage in a clone's life – and perhaps due to their engineering – the preferred company was still that of fellow clones, brother soldiers, the sort of bond that formed only between fighting men. It was that relationship which, in competition with other temptations and attractions, predominantly won out. Not that it fully vanquished the others—Kix had seen that with his own captain—but when a choice had to be made between one and the other, the romantic—of perhaps, the lustful—was almost always tossed over for the brotherhood.
And so, while gazing at his image in the mirror, the thought of having a woman that night lasted less than the blink of an eye, before being replaced with thoughts of tomorrow's reunion with Pitch, and how happy Kix would be to see his squad mate's face. And how happy Pitch would be to see his.
A self-satisfied grin drew up one corner of Kix's mouth as he ran one hand over his head. "You still look good."
He heard the door to the refresher open behind him, but he paid no mind. His attention shifted down to the appearance of his armor, which, unlike its bearer, was starting to show its age. For most clones, there was a certain pride to be taken in the tried and worn appearance of the armor. It was testimony to the battles he had fought, to the close calls, to the grit and toughness of its bearer. Yet, there came a time in the life of every piece of armor when its integrity had been so compromised that it could no longer serve its purpose. This was Kix's third set of armor since . . . since crash-landing on Bertegad. And if he were an honest judge, he had to admit that it was approaching the end of its life cycle.
He would make a point of going to the Justice's armorer sometime during this shore leave.
"So, I guess the 501st is back on Coruscant." The voice belonged to the man who had just entered the refresher.
Kix glanced back towards the darkness of the entryway, wondering briefly if the speaker was anyone he knew. But not immediately recognizing the clone, he turned back to the mirror and his appraisal of his armor. "Oh yeah. We just got back from Ringo Vinda. Strangest thing happened out there."
"Yeah, I know."
Kix watched the figure in the mirror move towards him, removing his cap as he did so.
For a moment, Kix thought he had to be imagining things. But he wasn't. He knew he wasn't. The number 5 emblazoned on the upper right corner of the man's forehead . . .
Despite himself, Kix took a stunned, wary step backwards. "Fives . . . " he gasped. "Woah . . . what's going on? What—what are you doing here?"
Fives ignored the questions. "I need your help, Kix."
"They said you tried to assassinate the Chancellor and that you're infected with that virus that killed Tup," Kix probed carefully. "Everyone's on the lookout for you – including me. And Jesse."
Fives had replaced the cap on his head and was leaning wearily over the sanitation station. "It isn't true. None of it's true."
"But then—"
"I don't have time to explain right now," Fives cut him off. "All I can tell you is that—that I'm being framed. All of us—even the Jedi—are in grave danger."
Kix was bemused and admittedly a bit frightened. The man speaking to him now was not the Fives he had known previously. This wasn't the self-certain font of independence of Umbara. Nor was he the man of compassionate concern who'd insisted on staying at Tup's side through the whole illness ordeal. This Fives appeared tired and worn out, but on edge and with a certain explosiveness just beneath the surface. Kix could sense it.
And it made him assess every move with caution. Most of all, he had to make sure he didn't agitate Fives or make him bolt.
"What can I do, Fives? How can I help?"
Fives turned abruptly. "I need to talk to Rex . . . or General Skywalker."
"Well, they've been tasked with finding you," Kix replied. "Just turn yourself in."
"No!" Fives protest immediately, reaching out and taking Kix by the shoulders. Desperation shone in his expression. Everything in his manner spoke to a mind on the verge of collapse. He was becoming unhinged. "I'll never make it. You—you don't understand . . . what I'm mixed up in." He jerked Kix closer to him. "It goes all the way to the top. The highest levels are involved in the conspiracy."
Kix did his best not to show his skepticism, not to let onto the fact that he considered he was dealing with someone who had completely lost his sense of reason. But the shadow of doubt could not be hidden, and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to comm Jesse and get him in here to help.
But that did not happen.
Instead, Fives yanked Kix to within inches. "I have to talk to General Skywalker and Rex directly! Alone!" With that last word, he pushed Kix away from him, and Kix made sure to keep his distance.
"Look, I can contact Rex, but I can't guarantee he'll bring the General," Kix said.
Fives seemed to calm down a bit. "Good, good. Thanks, Kix. I appreciate it. Here . . . " He raised Kix's wrist and began inputting figures into the multi-function gauntlet. "Here are the coordinates. Make sure he meets me there."
Kix watched him leave. "Right," he said under his breath. "Good luck, Fives."
And he truly did wish him luck. He would even do everything within his own power to ensure the outcome was positive. He might not hold Fives in the highest regard, but he did not want to see him deteriorate any further than he already had. And he did not want to see Fives put himself into more danger.
He went back out into the bar and returned immediately to where Jesse was sitting.
"'Bout time," Jesse quipped. "I thought you'd gotten lost." A glance at his friend, and his voice grew a bit more somber. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Kix replied with quiet urgency. "I saw Fives. He's—he's in trouble. I've got to contact Rex—"
"Ho-ho-ho-ho, wait a minute. What do you mean, you saw Fives?"
"Did you just see a man wearing armor and a utility cap come back through here?" Kix asked.
"I . . . wasn't paying attention," Jesse replied. "Besides, there are all kinds of bizarre uniform combinations in a joint like this."
"It was him, Jesse. It was Fives. He followed me into the refresher—"
"He followed you into the men's room?" Jesse challenged.
"Jesse, I'm serious," Kix replied. "He—oh, fek and all . . . "
Jesse followed his gaze to the door where a squad of the Republic Guard had just entered.
"You see, you see. They're here looking for him. Jesse, we've got to get out of ,here and find Rex. I can't risk sending a comm from here. They might intercept it—"
Jesse put a firm hand on Kix's arm. "You're not joking, are you?"
"No."
"You're trying to help Fives get away?"
"I'm trying to make sure the captain and the general get to him before they do," Kix replied. "Are you coming with me or not?"
"Let's go, but . . . try not to look so agitated. You'll make them suspicious."
Once they had cleared the doors, Jesse called for a taxi, but it wasn't until they were safely let off back at the Justice that Kix dared opened a comm to his captain.
"Captain Rex, this is Kix."
Rex answered immediately. "What is it, Kix?"
"Are you—where are you, Sir I had something I wanted to see you about."
There was a brief pause, and Kix could imagine that Rex was wondering what was going on with this cryptic message from his medic. Kix, after all, could never be called mysterious or subtle. He tended to be direct and forthright. Hopefully, the captain would be able to glean the unspoken meaning.
"I'm enroute back to the Justice. I can meet you there, if it's urgent."
"No more urgent than Bertegad," Kix replied.
"Meet me in ten minutes in my quarters."
"Copy that, Sir."
Kix turned to Jesse. "You think he got the message?"
"I think the reference to Bertegad got it across," Jesse replied. "That was a desperate situation, for sure. But tell me, Kix . . . what did Fives say?"
Kix shook his head minutely. "He . . . he's gone crazy, I think. He may really have that virus, and it's made him paranoid. He thinks there a conspiracy from the highest levels of leadership, but he . . . he didn't say exactly what that conspiracy was. He said we were all in danger, even the Jedi." He looked up and searched Jesse's face for the stability he'd come to rely upon. "I hardly recognized him, the way he was acting." He swallowed, almost fearful of what he was about to say.
"It was like looking into the eyes of a madman."
So, I'm sure you noticed that it is Fives' perspective that is not included. I like to wonder what it must have been like for Anakin, Rex, Jesse, and Kix to get the news about what was going with Fives, how "in the dark" they really were.