Dear Reader, Thank you to my reviewers: Christina TM, thaismarendaz, Sued13, my Guest, Writingfan27, Princess Rey-Tano, LLTC, and RyanSquad. As always, much appreciated. I do need to attach a warning to this chapter. While there is no graphic description of torture, there is fairly graphic description of the environment in which Rex finds himself. I wanted to set the scene for the horrors of the Copian torture operation without actually dwelling on the methods themselves. In describing the lower level (you'll see), I drew on episodes of "Ghost Adventures". The "greenish" hue - how things look when the crew uses their night vision. They're always investigating old hospitals, asylums, and other massive buildings that have huge underground foundations. So, I used those in envisioning the lower levels. If nothing else, I hope this chapter raises the suspense level . . . Peace, CS
Chapter 137 Mind Games
"But oh — time has become such a torture, a slow torture. One tries to capture a piece of time that lies ahead and is full of light . . . but thinking about that just makes this awful black time even blacker."
The Green Knight
Iris Murdoch
It was one of the most morose moments of his life.
Second only behind Hardcase's death.
He stood in front of the assembled battalion. He faced them as the 501st's new first-in-command. He'd announced as much to the men. The mission had been an abject failure. Rex and seventeen other troopers were missing. General Skywalker had appointed him as Rex's replacement.
He made no attempt to assuage the concerns he knew were percolating in each man's mind. He did not offer sympathies or soft words. No promises. No vows. He had no assurances to give. He did not know if Challenger would be returning to the scene.
He only knew he would be.
Yet, he had to protect the battalion for its own sake, for Rex's sake. For General Skywalker's sake. They must remain loyal to the Republic. They must do their job. He must find someone trustworthy, someone the men respected, to take over leadership of the battalion at what was shaping up to be its worst moment.
Jesse already knew that would be easier said than done.
The 501st had been through hard times before. They'd lost more than half their strength in previous engagements. Yet, they'd never lost their captain. And for all intents and purposes, they were about to lose their General, for Jesse knew General Skywalker would be heading out himself to search for Rex. Jesse, too, would be gone. Sixer, Sempe. Jesse had others on his radar, as well.
Their absence would leave the battalion vulnerable unless the temporary leadership was strong enough to hold things together. That leadership had to come from with the 501st. Jesse had seen firsthand on Umbara what happened an outsider was brought in.
There was a lot to plan and not much time to do it.
He kept the battalion formation short, dismissing them to resume their duties. But he could not miss the bemusement and consternation as he left the assembly area. He was not surprised. It was what he had expected, and he would not try to quell it. These men had a right to their emotions.
He headed towards the barracks briefing room, walking alone. He needed a few minutes of uninterrupted solitude to work out the next steps. What he was contemplating involved a great risk – and he'd be taking others along with him. The possibility that a Sith Lord was involved was a daunting thought. He wanted to give them the best chance of success. He wanted to give them the best chance of surviving.
A fleeting thought went through his mind: a wish, a desire that Fives were still at his side. Or that if he could not have Fives in person, he might find it within himself to bring Fives' unorthodox ways into his own planning process. His captain's life—his own life and those of the men he would take with him—might depend upon just such unconventional methods.
The last hour—hour? Two hours? Three? He had no idea—the immediate past was one of the most bizarre, humiliating, and baffling experiences he had ever had.
He'd been in full command of his senses, yet everything had seemed to be happening in a haze of distortion. He could feel but he could not move. He could breathe, but he could not speak. He could see but he could not blink or move his eyes. From time to time, his captors put drops in his eyes or placed a device against his throat that initiated a swallow response through a slight electrical charge. Otherwise, he was completely immobile. And although everything that was happening was immediate and intimate, he felt as if he was somehow detached from the situation. Or maybe the situation was detached from him.
There was no pain. They were not hurting him. Instead, they . . . examined him. Inspected him. Probing, delving, scrutinizing. Every part of his body. There was no quarter given for privacy. He was completely naked, and the inspection of his body did not end where his modesty began. He had a drifting, disjointed, almost whimsical notion of explorers mapping out new terrain. It was a strange thought, but then all his thoughts were strange.
Whatever drugs they'd pumped into him, he was at least coherent enough to realize his perceptions were being affected. Maybe he should be grateful. Otherwise, the flagrant exposition to which he was being subjected might have been less tolerable.
How long could this go on? They'd been over every centimeter multiple times. What part did this play in the arsenal of a race of master torturers? Was it to show their complete domination over him? Was it to humiliate him? Was it a subtle attack against that which Rex considered his most identifying traits: his stoicism and self-possession? His ability to display even those qualities had been stripped away by the paralyzing drugs. Not only was he unable to fight back, he could not even express his resistance. He could not understand what his captors were saying, and they made no attempt to communicate. They gave Rex nothing against which to cast himself, nothing against which to use his strengths.
Perhaps it was effective.
It left Rex feeling confused and demeaned. A science experiment.
But he knew these beings were not scientists. Or rather, they certainly had an interest in any scientific advancement of their trade. Rex considered that he might very well be their next test subject.
They had taken off his bonds. The tube in his mouth and the props on either side of his head had been removed. His captors wanted nothing inhibiting the exactitude of their endeavor. And they had nothing to fear from a subject who was not able to offer any resistance. From time to time, one of them would pass into Rex's view, and the repulsive appearance would spur ungracious thoughts in his mind. The only thing worse than their appearance was their smell. But Rex could neither close his eyes nor escape the odor.
He could only wait.
But wait for what? What he was currently being subjected to was not difficult – only strange. Yet, what was coming next? He'd not forgotten the agony of the injections. Was there more of the same coming in short order? The Copians would not waste the opportunity to practice their skills on any prisoner, least of all, one of the loathed clone soldiers . . . massed produced beings whose mere existence lent to the purposes of expediency, one of those purposes being the visceral thrill of watching another sentient creature under the crush of torture. Rex was that sentient creature this time around. He could only hope that he had the fortitude to hold on until General Skywalker rescued him. He had no doubt. The general would never leave him to this fate. He would look for him and never stop until he found him.
It was a comforting thought, but it was shaken from its place of prominence when the room started moving. The lights on the ceiling went by. A door frame. They were now in a corridor. He was being moved. He tried to take note of as many details as possible. The dark, shiny surfaces. The lights passing overhead at regular intervals. They entered an enclosed space . . . a lift? The sound of doors closing.
He could feel in his gut that they were going down.
When the door opened, immediately Rex was struck with the dank, musty smell that flooded into the lift compartment. Compared to the sterility from which he'd just come, this gave the impression of entering an underground foundation, old and decaying.
"This is going to be my prison," Rex said to himself. He flashed back to the E&E course at ARC training, the snake pit that had been his home for two days. Would this be worse?
The hover gurney on which he was laying was maneuvered through passageway after passageway. The darkness down here was of a different kind than that in the level above. There was a suffused greenish glow that had no discernible source, no overhead lights.
Rex glanced to his right—
He could move his eyes!
He looked straight ahead again, then moved his gaze to the left.
Did this mean the paralysis was wearing off? Would it wear off completely?
Concurrent with this movement, he heard the grunting huff of one of the Copians accompanying him, and a return snort. Rex guessed they had noticed the eye movement. Would they drug him up again? Hoping against hope that they hadn't seen the movement, he tried now not to blink. The drops they had put in his eyes earlier helped, and he stared at the ceiling as it went by, struggling against the urge to blink.
At length, the movement stopped. Rex was lifted off the gurney and set on the floor. He listened to the retreating footsteps of the Copians until they faded away, then all was silent.
After some time, he became aware of the sound of dripping water. It sounded far away and only the echo was reaching him. The floor on which he was lying felt cold and gritty, as if it hadn't been cleaned in years; but he could tell it was an actual floor and not an unfinished earthen surface. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the greenish light, he was able to make out a peeling and powdery ceiling with one narrow crack running from the upper right limit of his vision to the lower left limit. But it was nothing that struck him as worrisome, nothing that would make the ceiling structurally unsound.
With his restricted abilities, he had taken in as much detail as he could under the circumstances. And so, his thoughts turned to what chances he had for escape, however meager they might be.
Were this captors watching him? Of course, they were. Even if they weren't present in the room, he was certain they were watching him remotely. What were they planning next? They'd left him unbound and seemingly unattended; surely, they were aware that the paralysis was wearing off. How much longer would it be before he regained full control of his body? Would there be any lingering effects?
Minutes passed. The ability to move his fingers and toes returned, reaching into his arms and legs until finally, he was able to roll onto his side and push up slowly into a sitting position. He was next to a wall, and he leaned back against it, waiting for his coordination and strength to return. He now surveyed the room from his improved vantage point.
It was a large space, like the dining hall aboard Challenger. In fact, it occurred to Rex, as his gaze swept from one side to the other, that this might have been a cafeteria at one point. There was a serving counter along one side, beyond which the hazy outlines of old, rusting appliances could be seen. A few decrepit chairs and tables were strewn haphazardly about the room. There were light fixtures in the ceiling, but the only illumination was the green emanating from the material of which the walls and ceiling were made.
There were several entrances into the room. He could not see what lay beyond the door frames. An initial scan did not reveal any obvious surveillance devices, but that did not signify. Rex imagined the Copians had their own methods of surveillance that might not resemble the sort of things Rex would normally look for.
His vision was clearing, the hazy, warped perspective giving way to the precise, pinpoint clarity he normally possessed. When he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, in one of the doorways, a direct look revealed nothing. He considered that his eyes might be playing tricks on him, but it was just as likely that there had been movement and he'd simply not been fast enough. He might be regaining his mobility, but he was still a far cry from being full on. As such, he was not ready to attempt getting to his feet quite yet. Instead, he took the time to look down at his body, to see what damage they had inflicted on him.
Nothing. Not a sign of abuse. Some very slight discoloration where the IVs had gone in, some chafing at his wrists, barely discernible in the suffused light. The torture he'd undergone had been internal with nothing external to show for it.
"Sophisticated torture," Rex thought wryly. "Hide the signs of it. Huh! At least ARC training wasn't afraid of leaving physical proof." He drew in a deep breath. He was deluding himself. He'd seen the images, holo's of what the Copians did to their prisoners. Their methods of torture were not limited to the clean and agonizing. They ran the gamut, and he was only at the beginning. He had to steel himself for what was coming. Even this moment of apparent respite was part of a calculated plan to breach his defenses. He knew that. There was no point in trying to deceive himself into thinking this wasn't going to be as bad as he knew it would be. He forced his thoughts to practical matters.
"You have to find something to cover yourself," he said in silence. He knew the psychological advantage his nakedness gave his captors. He remembered that from ARC training. He remembered the vulnerability he'd felt, the sense of always being on exhibit. It was not his priority, but if he were to come across something in his attempt to escape, he would not pass up the opportunity.
Finding a way out and something he could use as a weapon were utmost of his considerations.
A slight shuffling sound drew his attention back to the same door where he thought he had seen movement. Only now, he saw a figure standing there. A Copian, there one moment, staring at him; then turning and disappearing like a phantom into the corridor beyond.
The specter-like appearance of the Copian heightened Rex's sense of urgency. Using the wall to brace himself, he got to his feet. He was still shaky, yet he could not afford to stay here anymore. The Copian might be coming back, and Rex did not want to be there when he returned. He stepped away from the wall, teetered a moment, then made his way sloppily across the room towards the entrance in the opposite corner. Before entering, he peered cautiously around the door, standing partly ajar.
The hallway was empty except for a few loose pieces of furniture—a chair, a tumbled filing cabinet, an old desk—casting peculiar shadows in the murky green light. It stretched away thirty or forty meters into the darkness. Rex put one hand against the wall for support and entered. There were doors interspersed on both sides. Some were open; others were closed. He stopped to look inside several of the rooms. Most were storage-sized, filled with ruined furniture piled high. Others looked like old classrooms. Others resembled hospital examination rooms.
Intersecting corridors crisscrossed the hallway, and here and there parts of the walls and ceiling had fallen and lay in little piles of rubble.
Rex continued moving, coming eventually to another large room like the one he had just left, except that in this room, a humming noise rumbled low within the enclosing walls. Right away, he pinpointed the sound to a walk-in storage room within the larger space. In contrast to everything else he'd seen thus far on this level, the storage room appeared it might still be in use.
He approached carefully and looked through the window in the door.
Had he been anyone other than a hardened trooper, he might have recoiled at what he observed on the other side. But instead, he felt as if he were looking at the aftermath of the battlefield, the realm of the mortuary teams.
The room was filled with dead bodies. Parts of bodies. Stacked up to the ceiling. Frozen. Dozens of species. Male, female. Some even appeared to be children . . .
Rex had seen much worse, but the difference here was of that between death in war and death by torture. The disfigurement and mutilations beyond the window were purposefully inflicted by a race of beings that took pleasure in what they did. War had casualties. Torture had victims.
And if this was what awaited him . . .
"Enough. Keep moving. There's nothing helpful here," Rex commanded himself. He turned away from the window, and as he did so, his eyes fell on the figure of a Copian in the doorway again, the door through which he had just entered.
He was being followed.
But once again, the Copian retreated back into the hallway; and the moment he was out of sight, Rex hurried to the far door, forcing himself to overcome the unsteadiness, checking behind him to see if the Copian was following.
This corridor looked like the previous one, stretching nearly sixty meters before ending in a "T" junction. Rex chose to go right for no other reason than that the passageway appeared less littered with rubbish. His pace was picking up. His balance was improving. His eyes were growing more accustomed to the green light, and he was better able to see the details of that through which he was passing. A short length of piping lying on the floor caught his eye. He picked it up, felt its weight and heft, and decided it would suffice as a weapon for the moment.
As he moved further down the passageway, faint traces of an unpleasant odor were discernible. The smell grew stronger until it blocked out even the damp mustiness.
He knew the stench. He knew the smell of death and decomposing bodies. But somewhere comingled was the pungency of cleaning supplies, disinfectant, sanitizing agents. No matter what planet, what people, the smells behind certain purposes were similar.
A huffing sound—the voice of a Copian—startled him and he whirled around, expecting to see someone behind him. But no one was there. The huff came again. He could not tell from which direction it was coming. He put his back against the wall, side-stepping down the corridor to give himself a better view. He passed an opening in the opposite wall, and here he stopped.
This was the source of at least one of the ghastly odors.
A metal table stood in the middle of the room. A dead man lay on top. A . . . horribly dead man. The scene was gruesome, yet one thing compelled Rex . . .
He crossed the hall with stiff movements.
The dead man . . .
He was a clone.
Rex entered the room, every step filled with more trepidation than the previous. He moved closer to the table—as close as he dared—and took in the grisly sight of the dead trooper. Here was the proof of the physical brutality Rex knew awaited him, and it made him shudder.
How long had this brother been dead? The body was in the process of decomposing, but it wasn't that far along that it should cause the kind of reek that Rex was experiencing. That was when he saw another opening in the wall on the other side of the table. He made his way around the table, taking in sight of the implements of torture hanging on the wall and sitting on the sideboard. They appeared to be caked in dried blood and shriveled flesh. There were pieces . . . pieces of . . .
"Fek . . . just . . . stop looking, just go past it."
But entering into the next room – which wasn't a room at all but a massive chamber cut into the rock – he regretted his decision to leave the corridor at all.
All manner of sentients . . . hanging from the ceiling. By their necks, their ankles, their wrists. Suspended by chains, ropes, wire. Some were little more than skeletons. Others looked as if they had only died recently; and on these, the signs of torture were clear and gruesome.
The cavern reached up twenty or thirty meters overhead, and the bodies hung at all heights. Rex could not see how far back the chamber stretched, but he imagined there were hundreds of bodies, possibly thousands. This room did not have the green glow emanating from the walls. It was much darker but still had an aura of dim light, the origin of which Rex could not identify. Still, the light revealed enough that Rex felt a wave of revulsion creeping up his throat. It took a great effort at self-control to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged. Once again, he commanded his focus be directed towards less emotional matters and more towards what he could do to improve his chances of eluding his captors.
An idea began taking shape in his mind. Steeling his resolve, he began carefully picking his way through the curtain of bodies, or what he hoped would be a curtain of concealment. It seemed unlikely the Copians had surveillance that could see effectively around the bodies.
He slid past one then another, keeping his eyes trained on the path he was taking and not the corpses hanging around him.
He felt something wrap around his elbow and turned with a cry of shock and alarm. He found himself eye-to-eye with a manner of creature he had never seen before. It was hanging upside-down, two tentacle-like appendages dangling from its face. It was one of these that was gripped Rex's arm. The being's mouth was moving but no sound came out. The eyes, four opaque black orbs, were bulging like tar bubbles about to burst. Rex had no idea if that was how they were supposed to look or not but it was disconcerting.
Rex suppressed his reflex to pull away. Instead he looked intently at the creature, followed the line of its long body up to where the suspension chain wrapped around what looked like a tail. Was it possible to free him? Or her? And if he was able to free the creature, would that give away his hiding place?
But it was not a decision he had to make. The tentacle around his arm tightened brutally as a spasm rattled through the creature's body. The bulbous eyes burst, splattering specks of black gel as Rex turned his shoulder and cringed away from the shower. The tentacle released him. The creature was dead.
Rex stumbled backwards through the bodies before finally tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground where the bodies dangled above him. His breath was coming fast and hard now. He had to get control over his nerves. He closed his eyes.
"Deep breaths. Slow. Slow down." He ignored the smell. He began wiping the gel off his face with the palms of his hands. "Take it easy. Keep calm. If you lose control, you won't make it through this." Several seconds passed, then he opened his eyes onto yet another dead face looking down into his. He couldn't stay back here. He must have been crazy to think he could hide out here. He would go mad in here. "But it's your best chance to stay hidden. Enh, you don't know that. They might already know you're in here. If you go back out there, they'll find you . . . definitely." He exhaled. "You've seen worse. You've been through worse," he tried to convince himself. "The longer you can stay hidden—"
His breath caught in his throat.
He could hear footsteps.
Someone had entered the hanging room and was passing among the bodies.
Rex froze. He didn't even dare swallow. He could hear the creaking and groaning of chains and ropes as whomever it was moved through the cavern, stopping where the creature that had just died was hanging. Rex hoped that was all this visit was about – confirming the death of another captive. The footsteps began moving again, this time towards the back of the cavern. There was the sound of a door opening and closing, and then all was silence.
Rex did not move right away. He waited at least five minutes until he felt certain he was alone again, then he got slowly to his knees, trying to make as little noise as possible. Now that he knew there was another door in the rear of the cavern, he began to make his way in that direction. It took him a fair amount of time searching along the rear wall until he finally found the door – a heavy, steel thing that creaked loudly the moment he cracked it open. He stopped immediately and proceeded slowly, but that did nothing to squelch the noise. He edged into the passageway beyond the door, which was pitch black. If he closed the door behind him, he would not be able to see anything at all. Yet, if he left it open, they would know he'd come this way.
He could feel his way along the wall in the darkness. It was his best option. He closed the door and started down the passageway. He could tell the ground beneath his feet here was packed dirt, slick and muddy in some places. He judged he'd gone thirty meters or so before he came to another door. Already, the odor of disinfectant had returned . . . he could smell it through the door.
He stood on the threshold, contemplating whether to open the door or not. He had no idea what was on the other side. But when the sound of the door opening at the far end of the passageway met his ears, he knew they were still searching, and his decision was made for him. He opened the door quickly, hoping the sound from the other end would cover the sound at his end.
But if Rex had left one nightmare, he now entered another – one even more terrifying than the previous. For turning into the room, he found himself in the midst of a scene of brutality and inhumanity so grisly, he thought he might be under some sort of illusion or mind manipulation.
He was back in one of the green-hued rooms, twenty by twenty meters, filled with examination tables. There had to be at least thirty tables, and at least twenty of them were occupied.
By living beings. Or what Rex perceived to be living beings.
To his right and less than a meter away, a male Twilek lay naked on one of the tables, extremities tied down, a large open wound in his abdomen, covered with a clear plastic casing. The Twilek's eyes were open and blinking, his head twitching from side to side.
Rex stared at him in horror before his gaze moved over the next table where a human male lay with the top part of his skull removed and electrodes connected to his brain. Every few seconds, a different light on an attached console would light up, and a corresponding part of the man's body would strain against the straps holding him down.
Rex felt as if he could barely move his feet as he staggered away from his place by the door. He tried not to look anymore. He didn't want to see any more. But as he passed one of the tables on his way to far exit, he could not help but notice the spasmodic jerkings of the body thereupon. Another human male . . . receiving mechanical sexual stimulation. It was grotesque.
The entire room . . . Rex realized he was looking at vivisection. Live testing. Experimentation on living creatures. Horrendous torture. And yet, there was not a sound coming from beings that were clearly conscious. Had they been given the same paralysis drugs to which Rex had been subjected? But these victims were able to move and respond to stimulus. There had to be another reason they were silent.
"Their vocal nerves have been cut." The thought sent a violent shiver through Rex's body. He had to get out of here. This was a house of horrors. Everything on this level was meant to get inside his head, to mess with his mind. He stumbled to the door, broke into the hallway, and leaned over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath.
"Get a hold of yourself," he chided. "Keep going. You've got to find somewhere to hide . . . fek, get a hold of yourself."
He straightened up.
And there directly in front of him stood two Copians.
Without thinking, Rex swung the pipe, smashing into the side of one of the Copian's head, dropping him to the floor. He took a shot at the second Copian, who sprang back out of reach. Rex leaped forward and together they crashed to the floor. Rex raised the pipe and was preparing to bring it thundering down when something wrapped around his neck, tightening like a snare. He dropped the pipe as he was jerked backwards off the Copian he was fighting and dragged across the floor.
He couldn't breathe and began backpedaling to loosen the loop. He was able to get two fingers under it, then he pushed forcefully backwards, barreling his attacker and himself back into the vivisection room. When his attacker went down, Rex pulled off the snare and got to his feet, hurdled over the Copian he had just knocked down and headed for the door that led into the dark passageway. He had his hand on the bar, was about to open it, when the door opened from the other side and two more Copians erupted from the passageway. They were upon him immediately, but he was not going to go down without a fight, not after what he had seen, not knowing what sort of horrors awaited him.
He went with them, backpedaling once again, throwing them off-balance. All three men careened into one table after the next, sending them crashing to the floor, their living experiments going down with them. The Copian Rex had escaped moments earlier now rejoined the fray. Fighting them was no longer an option. Rex had to disentangle himself and flee. And his best bet for that was creating more chaos and obstacles. He reached up and pulled down another table and its occupant, then another, along with the associated equipment. If he could extricate himself before his captors, he might have a chance at eluding them – at least, temporarily. He could buy himself some time.
He wriggled out from under the mess and bounded towards the door. When he entered the hall, he found himself flat on his back. He hadn't seen the blow coming until it was too late, right between the eyes. He went down hard, knocking the breath out of him and leaving him stunned for several seconds. Those seconds were enough for the snare to be placed around his neck again, as well as around his wrists and ankles. By the time his senses returned, he was stretched spread eagle on the floor, the pressure at his neck just enough to ensure he could still breathe.
The figure of a Copian appeared over him.
Rex recognized the glowing wand in his hands. A shock rod.
The Copian hovered the rod over the base of Rex's throat.
The torture began.
"I've brought you all here for the same thing." Jesse looked around the room at the men he'd gathered together.
Sixer, Sempe, DB, Ajax, Pitch, Kix, Dogma, Denal, and now-Lieutenant Keeper.
"We're going back to Tralgaria. We're going to find Captain Rex," he stated directly. "Keeper, I'm putting you in charge of the battalion. Denal, he's going to need your help to hold things together."
Keeper frowned. This was not what he'd expected to hear. "I, uh . . . I'd rather go with you," he stated.
"So would I," Denal added.
"I understand that," Jesse replied. "But I need to leave the battalion under the command of someone they trust. The two of you are veteran troopers. The men know you and respect you. It's going to be a bad time while we're gone."
"What does General Skywalker say?" Kix inquired. "Does he know what you're planning?"
"I think he has a pretty good idea," Jesse replied. "Sixer and I didn't try to hide it." A pause. "And there's a good chance—I'd say a surety—that he's going to go out looking as well."
"Why don't we go with them, then?" This also from Kix.
"He doesn't want to involve us," Jesse replied. "We all need to understand: what we're doing is considered to be abandoning our posts, going AWOL. We could face court-martial charges, even if we're successful and are able to find the captain."
"I still want to go with you," Denal persisted. "I've been with him since he joined the 501st. We came here together. I was with him at ARC training. I don't want to leave him now."
"We all feel that way, but someone has stay back; and the men trust you and Keeper," Jesse reiterated. "I think the whole battalion would go, if they could. I'm sure there are those who are planning to go search for him even as we speak. I need you to stop them from going, to hold the battalion together. We owe that much to Rex . . . and to General Skywalker."
Here, Keeper spoke up in his even-tempered, rational way. "You're right. We do owe it to them. I'll stay. Just . . . before you leave, find a way to let them all know. I don't want anyone thinking I just took it on myself." A pause. "But I agree with Denal. He should go with you. After what he went through with the captain in ARC training, they have a connection."
Jesse was not beyond reconsidering. "You're still going to need help, Keeper."
"There are plenty of good men," Keeper replied. "Slip, Appo, Gernot. I'll find someone."
"When are we leaving?" Dogma asked.
"Within two hours," Jesse answered. "We have a few details to work out."
"Like stealing a ship, getting past launch security, making sure we have weapons and provisions," Sixer stepped in. "We don't know how long we're going to be gone. We need to make sure we're prepared for an extended absence."
"How are we going to get past security?" This from Ajax. "They have to be expecting something like what we're planning. They'll be on heightened alert."
"Something we have to think about," Jesse answered.
The door to the squad room opened.
Commander Cody stood on the threshold.
"Is this a private meeting?"
"Commander Cody," Jesse acknowledged with a gulp. "We—we—is there something we can do for you?"
"Yes, there is," Cody replied. "You can tell me what you're doing."
Jesse glanced at Sixer but there was no reading the latter's expression.
"We're . . . we're discussing Captain Rex and our other missing men," Jesse hedged.
"Do you plan to go look for him?"
"We're . . . considering it," came the hesitant reply.
"Then I'm here to make the decision for you," the commander stated flatly. "When can you be ready to go?"
Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Commander?"
"Do you think I don't know exactly what's going on here?" Cody challenged. "I didn't come to stop you. I came to lead you. And every second we waste, the slimmer our chances of finding him."
"You want to go with us?" Jesse asked cautiously.
"I am going with you."
Sixer spoke up with the requisite respect. "If I may, Commander, you . . . you've never broken the rules for anyone or anything. Going AWOL is . . . more than just breaking a rule."
Cody was silent for several seconds, and the men were not sure he would answer. But when he did, his words surprised and moved his listeners. "Rex isn't anyone. He's my brother in the truest sense. We all have someone we'd risk everything for, including our lives. You all understand this. You're about to do the same thing."
Jesse narrowed his eyes. "You're not here to stop us?"
"I've said as much," Cody replied. "When can you be ready?"
"We have to get a ship and figure out how we're going to get past launch security—"
"We've already got a ship lined up," Cody interrupted.
"We?"
Cody reached behind him and opened the door. Three-Point and Zinger entered the room.
"You're going to need some pilots," the commander said.
"We all know how to fly," Dogma stated.
"Not like these guys," Cody replied as knowing grins of satisfaction spread across the faces of those present. "As far as launch security, that won't be a problem.
"They won't just let us fly out of here, Commander." This from Sixer.
"You're right," Cody agreed. "They'll put on a good show. It will look authentic."
"What do you mean?"
"You 501st types are so insular," Cody chastised with a slight grin. "You should know that every clone on this ship, no matter what outfit they're in, stands with what we're going to do. They may not be able to say it, but they have our backs. And we have connections in the right places."
"Does General Kenobi know what you're doing, Sir?" Sempe asked.
Cody's expression was closed and neutral. "No."
"Will he try to stop us?" This from Sixer.
"I don't know," came the honest answer. "The sooner we get underway, the better. So again, when can you be ready to go?"
Jesse and Sixer exchanged glances.
"Two hours?" Jesse proposed.
"Make it thirty minutes," Cody replied.
Jesse nodded smartly. Suddenly, he felt as if this venture really had a chance of succeeding. The addition, the leadership of Commander Cody gave him a confidence he'd not had five minutes earlier.
"We'll be ready, Sir. Meet back here?"
"Meet in my quarters."
*You didn't really think I'd leave Cody out of this, did you? :-)