Dear Reader, Thank you to my reviewers: Moonwatcher404, Sued13, thaismarendaz, DojoYoyo, Jessica Wolfe, blobfish3690, Christina TM, cristinatodirasc, Guest, and Galaxy000. I was glad to find I still had readers after such a long pause! This chapter is fairly long and will be followed within a week by another chapter. It was just getting long and complicated and I decided to end it at a logical break, so I can pick up the next chapter. There are some rough references in here, but I hope everyone enjoys. Cheers,

CS

Chapter 140 Getting Closer

"The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost."

G.K. Chesterton

The initial infusion of udiwirm was no longer sufficient to keep him alive. No, a concoction of drugs was now required. Drugs and a stasis column.

Such a shame, too, for Taitha had held out such high hopes for claiming the prisoner as his own at whatever point the Sith Lord should free him for the taking.

But there wasn't much to take now. A creature whose life was nearly extinguished, who was being kept alive only by means of multiple intravenous drugs and the column of sparkling light that defined the stasis column. A creature who seemingly had descended to carcass, whose coherence was no longer intact.

Count Dooku had warned the Copian Regent, and the Regent had warned Taitha directly that the prisoner was to remain cognizant during the entirety of his captivity, until the plan reached its culmination, whatever—and whenever—that might be. How disappointed—how angry—would the Count be when he discovered that the Copians had pushed too hard and too far? The prisoner was as good as dead. There could be no enjoyment for the torturers now and no satisfaction for the one who had purchased their services.

Taitha regarded the pitiful figure hanging in the column, dangling by a plasma rope coiled around his discolored wrists. Those very same coils were infusing various drugs into his body, right through the skin, while the column worked to slow his bodily functions and preserve him just a little longer.

Just until Taitha knew that he would not be bringing the wrath of the Sith Lord down upon himself for having been perhaps a bit overzealous with this prisoner.

But how could one expect to corral their enthusiasm when faced with such a magnificent subject. This one had survived weeks of the most vicious treatment they'd had to offer. And while he had been the very picture of stoicism at the outset, there had come a point—as there always was—when the agony had become too great. After that first breaking, the prisoner had succumbed many times and in such perfect form as to be exhaustively titillating to behold.

And here he was now in the sterile room. This was a place normally reserved for preservation of those who had died in the lower levels so their bodies could be studied. The stasis columns had been created for that very purpose – to dramatically slow the decomposition of a corpse so it could be rendered of scientific use.

It was a long room with a high ceiling. Three of its walls were hewn from the very stone of the ground in which the facility resided. A raised dais ran the length of the room, and at present, at least fifteen other stasis columns were in use. Consoles blinked an array of colors, and the implements of biological study and dissection lay in glistening disinfectant cases.

More than the lower levels, the sterile room had an atmosphere more reminiscent of scientific study, yet it still maintained a sense of the macabre, the gruesome . . . the perverse. Here, the Copians wore simple grey frocks, but that simplicity could not hide the truth of where their specimens had come from and what had befallen them prior to their occupancy in this room.

Taitha would have been so overjoyed if only he'd been able to take the captain home to his private residence for his own exclusive torture regimen and experimentation. What wonderful methods he could have tried out on someone of such endurance.

But now, those dreams were just that. Dreams.

Taitha walked up the half dozen steps to the top of dais and approached the Copian at one of the consoles.

"Has he any awareness?" he asked.

"We've been able to shock him into consciousness a number of times. He displays the occasional spasm, some vocal utterances, but I am not ready to define any of that as awareness," came the cool response.

"Then let me rephrase the question," Taitha said, his inflection as condescending and full of warning as could be managed through the Copian tusks. How he despised scientific types. He much preferred Copians of action, the skills of torture to the skills of autopsy, the honest and frank brutality of those who shared his own profession to the almost dainty cerebral ways of Copians such as this one. "Is he still capable of feeling pain? And does he know he's feeling pain."

"Of course, he can still feel pain," the examiner replied haughtily. "His nerves are functioning just fine. His spinal cord is fully intact. Why would he not feel pain? He can't react to it as . . . fully as you might wish; but he feels it and he is aware of it. As for those times when pain is not being administered, he appears to lapse into a state of delirium. Or sleep, unconsciousness – whatever you want to call it. Let's not forget, Taitha, we usually deal with the post-living here. The nuances of a prisoner in the last throes of life do not interest me nearly as much as slicing him open to see what toll the lower levels have taken on his vital organs."

"You should take an interest in the vivisectionist's job, Pe'ka. Then you could slice him open even now as he still lives," Taitha grunted. "But your only concern is to keep him alive until word comes from Count Dooku."

Pe'ka made a derisive sound. "You were a fool to take up that assignment. No one gets the better of a Sith Lord."

"I don't want to get the better of him. I have already gotten what I wanted," Taitha replied. "The chance to practice on a superior subject. But the deal was that I keep him alive until told otherwise. Now that task falls to you. Do not disappoint me. More than one of us will suffer the consequences if we fail the Count's instructions."

"We? You and Makai were the ones who allowed him to deteriorate to this point," Pe'ka retorted. "If you needed him to last longer, you should have been more measured in your treatment of him. Is there anything you did not do to him?"

Taitha felt a sense of smug satisfaction. "You know there are thousands of methods we did not use on him. He has all his limbs-"

"All broken."

"He has his tongue and his ears—"

"And no eyes."

"He has the puny parts that compromise a human male's manhood—"

"But not so puny that you overlooked them." Pe'ka had no need to back down before Taitha's authority; for as a science officer, he did not fall under that authority. He had his own chain-of-command, and he could speak his mind freely. The truth was he found nothing to deride in what Taitha and his team had done to this prisoner. They had done their job and done it exceedingly well. But it was Taitha's overbearing nature that put Pe'ka back on his heels. Anyone could brag about torturing a man nearly to death. Not many could boast about keeping that man alive. It seemed to Pe'ka that Taitha overvalued his own worth.

As if sensing that the conversation were going to come to naught, Taitha fell back on his original intent in coming here. "Yes, yes, let's put all that aside. All I need to know is, can you keep him alive?"

"As long as he stays in stasis, he should be able to survive . . . I don't want to say indefinitely; there will continue to be mild deterioration. But many months, I would surmise," Pe'ka replied.

Taitha was still entertaining the dwindling hope that he might have one more session with the prisoner. "And if he comes out of stasis?"

"Within minutes, the deterioration would resume. Within a few hours, he would be dead."

"Hours, you say?"

Pe'ka made a gurgling sound of displeasure. "Do not tell me you want to remove him?"

"It is tempting," Taitha replied. "And Makai would so enjoy another opportunity to . . . do what he does best."

Pe'ka snorted. "At this point, he would get no reaction from him."

"Makai doesn't do it for the response. He does it for his own gratification," Taitha sneered.

Pe'ka was not interested in hearing any details of what Makai did for his own gratification. He already knew the substance of it. "If you want him, take him and do it now. I don't want to get everything set up here only to have you yank him out. But just remember . . . if he dies while you've got him out of stasis, you're going to have to answer to Count Dooku. You and you alone."

Taitha sighed – or its Copian equivalent. "You are right, of course. Keep him. Keep him alive. A moment's pleasure isn't worth losing my life." A pause. "But before I go, show me. Show me that he can be awakened."

Pe'ka turned back to his console. "Easy enough. We just send a shock down through the coils . . . "

"Just a concussion?"

"And some broken ribs, a broken collar bone and this beauty." Cody raised his hand and gingerly touched one finger to the partial ring of stitches over his left eye.

"So . . . just a concussion."

Cody gave a slight smile and shook his head. "Are you hard of hearing or is it that you just only hear what you want to hear?"

"What's a broken bone or two? Those will heal up quickly. And that scar . . . makes you look like a veteran, gives you character."

"You should know all about being a character."

Rex took the jibe as a compliment. And he'd succeeded in what he'd wanted to do. He'd gotten a smile from the commander, maybe made him forget his pain for a few seconds. Job done. And now it was Rex's turn to unburden his own soul.

"I was scared out of my kriffing mind, you know that, don't you?" he stated. He didn't wait for a response. "I was thinking, we've been working together for barely a month and he's—I thought you were dead. The force of the explosion and the impact when you hit the gunship—"

"I was there, Rex, you don't have to give me a blow-by-blow replay," Cody smiled kindly. He cocked his head to one side in concession. "Although I don't really recall much about it."

"You'd just landed, just disembarked, and a rocket hit your gunship square in the payload bay. You were thrown directly into another gunship that was coming in for a landing—"

"Yes, thank you, I get it."

Rex stared hard at him. "No, you don't. You don't get it at all. But why am I not surprised. You always were denser than the Olampan mountain fogs." He spoke the next words separately and distinctly. "I thought you were dead. And the . . . the idea of . . . " Damn, this was hard. "The thought that . . . that everything was over before it had even started . . ."

And Cody, once again recognizing the difficulty the moment was causing for the newly minted first-in-command of the 501st – his friend—came to the rescue. "That's okay, Rex. That's good, that's enough. I do get it. And I appreciate it." A pause. "But you should know that, as first-in-command, you shouldn't have dropped leadership of your battalion just to come to my aid. Your first responsibility is to your unit – and General Skywalker."

"You just had to ruin it, didn't you, Commander? Here I am, pouring my guts out and you have to pull out Rule-Book Cody." Rex said it with humor in his voice, but he could not deny feeling a little perturbed that his friend seemingly could not just go with the earnestness of the moment.

But this chastisement did not even ruffle Cody's feathers. "We're six weeks out of ARC training, Rex. I'm still looking out for you. And . . . I'm glad you're looking out for me."

"You're such a sap."

Cody shook his head. There was no winning. "I thought I was a rule book."

"That, too."

Cody gave the indulgent, smiling headshake again. It was a gesture that Rex would come to see very often. He knew it was Cody's way of telling him he was incorrigible without using words.

It was Cody's way of telling him he would always have his back – no matter how tough things got.

And it was a dream.

A dream of a memory.

Or something like that.

He wasn't actively calling these images and recollections to mind. They were just sort of floating up like filaments in the sunlight – visible and then disappearing, only to reappear again when the light hit them just right.

He couldn't control the light. He couldn't control the filaments. Both came and went without design. Some recollections were pleasant. Others were not. His mind's eye could see, where his physical eyes were no longer capable. The memories came randomly, sometimes with such intensity that, for a brief, shining moment, he forgot where he was. He existed only in the time and space of the dream.

General Skywalker bounded through many of the dreams, fierce and reckless and powerful, reminding Rex of how often he had depended on his commanding general to set the tone and lead the way, to pull victory from the ashes. In others, Maree soothed him – and in ways they had not, in fact, shared. This was his mind taking him to places he had not been . . . places he knew he wanted to go. He wanted to feel her bare skin against his, let the weight of his body press down upon her, own her and have her own him in a way that he had only heard spoken of. In his altered state of mind, the constraints of her calling fell away. The bonds that denied him his freedom dissolved. He was the lunar hawk. She was moon that welcomed him against the night sky. The closer he flew, the less visible he became until his silhouette dissolved against her brightness, enveloped and subsumed into one. And within this oneness, he could love her without ceasing, without limitation.

Yet, in this perfect dream, this fabrication of a wearied mind forced beyond its boundaries by means of torture, something always drew him back to the real, solid memories of events that actually had transpired. Eating in the dining hall with his men. Running after Kix in the river at ARC training. Playing jack-ball with Jesse and Top. The day he and Denal arrived together at the 501st. Hardcase . . . not his death, but rather his fearless approach to everything he undertook.

General Skywalker. Doma Maree. His troops.

But over and over again, the one who repeatedly returned to remind him again and again how important it was to keep fighting, to insist that there were those who needed him desperately to come back to them, to assure him that the search would not end until they found him . . .

Cody.

Cody, who took the fire Rex imbibed from General Skywalker, and knew when to flame or dampen it; who saw through Rex in a way that no one else did, yet never used that to his own advantage; who was the only person to whom Rex could show all facets of himself. Cody: bright, professional, the perfect soldier, the perfect friend.

Cody had not abandoned him. Not even now, where he filled most of Rex's jumbled thoughts.

The greatest comfort in a universe that turned into pure horror was the fact—yes, Rex was certain it was a fact—that Cody would never give up looking for him.

"General Skywalker . . . " Cody paused before entering the lounge. "If Rex is a prisoner of the Copians, there's a chance he could . . . already be dead."

Anakin did not want to entertain that thought. "I'll know when we get closer. I can't sense him anymore in the Force, but I might be able to once we're closer."

"Why would Count Dooku turn him over to the Copians?" Cody wondered aloud.

"Rex has a lot of tactical and strategic information. If they can torture it out of him, that would deal a severe blow to the Republic," Anakin replied.

But Cody was not convinced. "They had Echo hooked up to their network for months, and he knew almost everything Rex knew. If they wanted to, they could have done the same with Rex. If you're right and he's on Copia, there has to be another explanation."

"He is on Copia. They have him. I saw them. I saw the room where they're holding him," Anakin stated without a hint of doubt.

"How are we going to pinpoint that location? Copia has a circumference 80,000 kilometers and a surface land mass cover of over 60 percent. That's a lot of ground to cover."

"We have options," came the even reply, "Which we can discuss in the meeting."

They entered the lounge where the rest of the team, minus Zinger who was minding the flight deck, was assembled.

Anakin wasted no time. "ETA to Copia?"

It was Echo who replied, "At light speed, just over 52 standard hours, General."

"The Copians have advanced space travel capabilities and orbital tracking satellites. We'll need to drop out of light speed well outside their detection range. Three Point, get with Echo and calculate precisely where we can safely drop and stay concealed until we can find out where they're holding Rex," Anakin ordered. "I also want to know how much stealth we can get from this ship. Zing said she has low-grade stealth capabilities. I want to know precisely what that means." He turned his attention to the others. "I want the rest of you to study everything we have on Copia and where they might be holding Rex." He glanced at Cody. "I know it's a lot of ground to cover, but with any luck, I'll be able to sense something when we get there. But—" A pause. "—DB, I want you to see if the Eagle can find anything once we're closer. We'll worry about next steps once we know what the situation on the ground is. Any questions?"

Denal spoke up. "General, I don't mean to doubt you, but are you sure this is where he is? Why would Dooku turn him over to the Copians?"

This was the same question Cody had posed, and Anakin had not been satisfied with the answer he'd given then; but the truth was he had no satisfactory explanation. So, he focused on the first part of the question.

"I'm positive he's here," he replied simply.

"So, he's . . . still alive?" Kix inquired tepidly.

Anakin hesitated before answering. "I don't know. I just know that this is where he is. I haven't sensed anything from him in days."

This disquieting news sat heavily on the clones and they absorbed the implications without speaking.

It was Major Swin who broke the silence. "And if he's dead?"

Anakin turned a cold stare towards her where she stood in the entranceway into the corridor. "You weren't invited to this meeting."

"I went to the trouble of sneaking onboard this ship so I could go look for Rex with the rest of you," the major replied with an exasperated sigh. "Can't you understand that I want to help? Was I going to just sit by myself while the rest of you talked strategy without me?"

"I've already told you, we don't need your help," Anakin replied. "We don't want your help. Leave. Now."

"What will you do if he's dead?" she demanded again.

"Why are you so sure he is?" Jesse challenged.

"I didn't say I was sure," Swin retorted. "I asked what you would do if he is." She looked at Anakin. "There has to be a reason you can't find him in the Force anymore. What if we get to Copia and you sense that he'd dead? Will you still go in?"

Her words were infuriating, and the clones could see the anger rising in the commanding general.

Jesse turned to Dogma. "Get her out of here."

Dogma took a step forward, but General Skywalker's voice stopped him.

"What are you about, Major?" he asked in an insinuating voice. "I find it hard to believe that you would risk your career and your entire future for someone you hardly even know. And if you're going to try and say that you had something more with Rex than we know about, let me tell you that not one of us would believe that. Who are you working for? Who are you reporting back to?"

"Reporting back to?" Swin scoffed. "When did I have time to report back to anyone? Your men have been watching me like a hawk—and not for the reasons I'm used to. They've been controlling all comm from the bridge, so I couldn't get a message out even if I wanted to. Who the hell would I report to? And what would I report?"

"You could be reporting back to headquarters or the Jedi Council," Anakin pressed. "And how would you know they've limited comm to the bridge unless you've tried and failed to send a message?"

"I know because robot over here—" she jerked her head in Echo's direction "—told me they were limiting comm to avoid any unauthorized communications going out. How very subtle. And do you think after all this time that you've been AWOL—that we've been AWOL—that they wouldn't have come after you if I'd been providing them your location? You think they just want to keep tabs on where you're going? That does not make any sense," she replied vehemently. "You may not trust me, General Skywalker, but that doesn't change the facts."

"And the facts are?"

"I only needed a few hours around Rex to realize that I wanted to know him more. I wanted a closer acquaintance," she replied. "Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Look at all of you; he meant enough that you were all ready to toss over your own parts in the war effort in order to save him. He draws people to him. People like you. And me." She scowled roundly at each one of them. "If that isn't enough explanation, then there's nothing else I can say to convince you. It's the truth."

A long silence filled the room.

Major Swin spoke again, this time with a more plaintive tinge in her voice. "Truly, General Skywalker, no one sent me on this mission. I am in communication with no one. I did this because . . . I'm fond of your captain."

Standing beside General Skywalker, Cody listened with interest to this exchange. It almost sounded reasonable – for a love-struck teenager. But seasoned GAR officers did not behave this way. Then again, he himself was a seasoned GAR officer, and here he was – with General Skywalker and a dozen others who had all decided that the life of one man was more important than their "own parts in the war effort". But they all had a history with Rex. Major Swin did not. Could she genuinely have developed such desire in so short a period of time, especially when Cody knew Rex had not returned her attentions?

"But he's not fond of you," the commander noted. "And he made that clear." He narrowed his gaze. "Are you so used to getting your own way that you can't accept defeat, Major? Or are you just very skilled at telling tales? I, for one, still don't believe you."

"Neither do I," Anakin concurred.

"Fine, then," Major Swin spat angrily. "Then find some place to put me off. If that's what you really want to do, then find some place to put me off. But just remember—if I am working for someone else, I already know that you're headed to Copia—which, by the way, is ridiculous. Why would a Sith Lord turn a prisoner over to them or to anyone when he himself has the skills and power to do or get whatever he wants by his own means? Whatever you think you're sensing on Copia, General Skywalker, I think you're chasing phantoms. But go to Copia. Just find some friendly or neutral planet to let me off on first."

"And you'll lead whoever you're working for right onto us," Jesse said calmly.

"I could. If I really am the person you all seem to think I am, I could rat you out." Her expression softened for a moment. "But that wouldn't help Rex, if he is still alive." A pause as she locked stares with General Skywalker. "I wouldn't do anything to interfere with what you're trying to do. I'd rather stay on board and help. But if you're that . . . untrusting of me, then do what you're going to do."

Anakin looked at Cody and a silent understanding passed between them.

"You stay for now," he stated plainly. "And that's only because you're less of a danger when we can see you and know what you're doing." A pause. "Now, we're going to continue our briefing—without you."

This was the best Major Swin could hope for; and since she had no choice but to accept it, she did. She turned and headed back up the corridor towards the flight deck.

A single bead of sweat formed on her brow.

"Or are you just very skilled at telling tales?"

A tale perhaps, but with elements of truth.

She was attracted to Rex. Very much so. That was the element of truth.

That was the basis of the fabrication.

"Dropping out of hyperspace in three-two-one," Three-Point announced. "Engaging stealth mode."

"There it is," Zinger said unnecessarily. "And as ugly as the gubwahls that inhabit it."

Copia filled the windows of the flight deck, yellow-gold beneath its thin layer of dust in the upper atmosphere. Beneath, the landmasses were mostly rocky with sparse vegetation and great obsidian cities with factories that synthesized the food stuffs that the meager soil could no longer produce on its own.

The troopers' study of the planet had revealed that every continent, every island, every surface that offered a solid foundation had facilities on it that appeared to be constructed for the purpose of torture. Narrowing down a location was going to be nearly impossible without using advanced scanning technology. Echo had suggested they could sweep for Rex's particular identification chip—the one each clone had implanted in his wrist—but Endeavor was not equipped to perform such a scan.

"I could rig her to do it, but it will take a while. And the scan will be fully detectable to their defense and tracking systems," Echo had explained.

"We'll keep that as a last resort," Anakin had replied. "We've got some other options to try first."

But now that they were here, the first order of business was to conceal Endeavor's presence. The magnetic resonance of the Copian system's central star was strong enough to distort any craft's signature if even the slightest impediment to line-of-sight was introduced. And in the case of a system of over twenty planets and their attendant moons, finding a hiding was easy.

Prior to arrival, they had already known that getting in and out of Copia would require some finesse. The planet had advanced tracking and detection systems, where only small parts of the planet were not covered. Depending on where Rex was being held, they might be able to make use of those areas and Endeavor's stealth mode to at least get into the lower atmosphere. Echo had been adamant that the Copian technology would be able to detect Endeavor as a ghost image and follow her trajectory, even if they couldn't see her actual image on radar or screen. While it might be safe to bring her in for extraction at the end, taking her down at the start of the mission would send up alarms as soon as she passed into an area covered by the sensors.

And Endeavor herself was a landing vessel. She did not have smaller craft that could shuttle a team down to the surface. She did, however, have four escape pods with flight controls. But these were all one-way trip jobs. To get back to Endeavor, the team would either have to steal a ship or Endeavor would have to come down.

It all depended on where Rex was being held and what the security situation in the vicinity was like.

Finding that location was the next order of business.

"DB, Cody, come with me," Anakin ordered.

The three strode from the flight deck to the first set of private quarters.

"I'm going to use the Force to see if I can sense anything from Rex now that we're here," Anakin announced. "DB, if I can feel Rex's presence in the Force, I want your eagle to see if he can . . . follow that connection to where he's being held."

DB looked somewhat bewildered. "He'll do whatever he can, General. I wouldn't even know how to describe to him what you want him to do."

"He knows. He's done it before," Anakin replied. He took up a cross-legged position on the floor and closed his eyes. After so many failures to feel anything of Rex over the past many days, he proceeded with great trepidation, not wanting another disappointment to further dampen his spirits.

He opened his mind, his very being, to the Force.

And waited.

"Stamp!"

Rex was startled by General Skywalker's shout. "I beg your pardon, Gen—"

But it was not Rex to whom General Skywalker was directing his address. In fact, the general was already moving quickly down the corridor.

Up ahead, a clone officer in ARC gear turned. Rex could see he was a captain, very smart in appearance, and genuinely surprised and pleased to see the general.

"General Skywalker, it's great to see you again, Sir."

"So, this is where they've got you hidden away, running around Sector Headquarters. What a waste of talent." General Skywalker was smiling brilliantly. Rex had never seen him quite so happy, but then again, it had only been two months since Rex had joined the 501st. He was still getting the feel of his new commanding officer. And things were going well, for all intents and purposes.

"Well, I guess they figured since you run the 501st single-handedly, what did you need a first-in-command for. They must have thought I'd be of more use here. Damn, but it's good to see you, Sir. What brings you here? I know how much you hate coming to places like this when you could be out wreaking havoc on the battle field."

"We've got some big tactical planning meeting, but that's not until 2000 hours. Are you working right now? We can grab a meal, I can brag about all my battlefield exploits, you can brag about how much paper you've pushed in the past two months."

"I could push paper to get you sent to the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim."

At this point, Rex sidled up beside General Skywalker.

"Ah, Rex – this is Captain Stamp," the general introduced. "Stamp, behold your replacement. This is Captain Rex."

So, this was the renowned Captain Stamp. The pinnacle officer who featured in virtually every story of 501st lore. The perfect. The daring. The ideal first-in-command for a man like General Skywalker.

Rex gave a curt nod of acknowledgment.

Stamp, on the other, was everything amiable.

"Replacement? What a choice of words, General," he said with mock offense.

"Okay, you're right. You're irreplaceable. Rex is my new first-in-command. There, does that sound better?"

"Marginally."

"Look, you're the one who bailed on me for a more prestigious position."

"Oh, this is prestige? And I didn't bail on you. I was reassigned. I had no say in the matter. If they wouldn't listen to you, they certainly weren't going to listen to me." With that, Stamp turned and clapped a hand on Rex's shoulder.

"Good to meet you, Rex. You're a brave man, coming to work for this one." He jerked his chin in the general's direction. "Try not to let him get you into too much trouble."

Rex did not even crack a smile. "I wanted to be in the 501st."

"Every trooper does," Stamp nodded. "Which is a mystery to me. If they knew what the general was like, they'd be running for the hills."

Rex watched this easy familiarity between his commanding officer and the former first-in-command of the 501st, and a strange, not-so-subtle tension rose in his shoulders and along his back until he felt like he was standing so rigid that his bones would all crack.

"Yeah, well you never ran," the general pointed out, "Unless it was to try and beat me to the front of the battle." A pause. "So, what about it? Join me for a bite, Captain?"

"I think I can manage that. There's a cafeteria on the lower level – the Koftin Carafe. I can meet you there at 1700, Sir."

"I'll be there."

Stamp grinned. "Wonderful." Then, to Rex, "Nice to meet you, Rex."

"Likewise."

Captain Stamp wheeled and continued on his original course down the corridor.

General Skywalker turned to Rex. "Those are the shoes you're filling," he grinned. "Care to join us at 1700? He could tell you a lot of stories. You could learn a lot from him."

Rex had to think fast. "I wanted to go over some of the pre-brief holo's before the 1800 meeting—"

"You already did that, Rex."

"Yes, General, but not with the . . . degree of . . . not to the degree I would like to go over them."

Rex had already come to recognize the expression being shown him by General Skywalker. The simper of doubt. Despite it only being two months, the general could tell when Rex was not being fully honest. It was uncanny.

"What's the matter, Rex? Didn't you like Captain Stamp?"

"Sir, that was such a brief exchange, I formed no opinion of him at all," Rex replied. This was true. Rex had no opinion of Captain Stamp. "He seemed . . . happy to see you."

General Skywalker regarded his first-in-command and an impish smile curled his lip. "Are you jealous, Rex?"

"Of course not, Sir." Though this was precisely the case.

"You don't need to be."

"I'm not."

"Stamp is a great officer. He was great when he was in the 501st, and I'm sure he's doing great here, as well," the general began. "But he's not my first-in-command anymore. And . . . I was pretty angry about that for a while. I didn't think I would ever find another officer like him." General Skywalker slapped Rex's arm. "I found one even better." That brilliant smile was now turned in Rex's direction. "I think we're going to be together for a long, long time. At least, I hope so."

Every vestige of jealousy vanished.

"Perhaps I will join you and Captain Stamp for dinner."

"I've found him." A pause." He's . . . remembering. Something that happened a long time ago, but it made him happy." Anakin's voice was trance-like. "It made me happy, too." Anakin had not thought about that moment with Rex and Captain Stamp in years. But discerning it in Rex's thoughts—feeling how much that encounter and those words had meant to his captain—he had never realized how powerful that exchange had been for Rex. He was almost inclined to indulge in a moment of nostalgic reminiscing, but the task at hand kept him focused.

"Eagle. Can you follow? Can you find him?"

In an instant Anakin found himself coursing through a boundless universe of light and darkness, something beyond created matter, as if journeying through existence without the boundaries of time. If this was what the Eagle was capable of, he wondered how DB ever managed to keep his peace. Such raw power and a willingness to use it. Anakin was amazed that the Eagle had not been able to find Rex before now. All part of a being he could not understand.

Suddenly, the formlessness gave way to shapes and discreet images; and like a blast from a furnace, Anakin recognized the place in flash of horrified excitement.

The long room with the raised dais.

"Yes, yes! I've seen this before. Is he here?"

"He is here," the Eagle replied.

"You have to take us there. You have to show us the way," Anakin insisted.

"I can show you. You have the ability. But you do not travel as I do."

"But you can lead me there."

"I can stay here, and you can come to me."

Anakin was baffled. "How can I do that? I don't know where you are. I know the room you're in, but I don't know where it is."

"I followed you. Now you must follow me."

"I don't know how to follow you," Anakin protested.

"DB does."

That was all Anakin needed to hear. He opened his eyes, ending the connection, and looked up at DB with poorly concealed anxiousness.

"Follow him," he ordered. "He knows where Rex is, but I don't know how to follow him. He says you do."

Double Barrel swallowed. "I do know how, but I don't have the same connection with the captain that you have. I may not be able to get us all the way there."

"Just find out where he's being held and how we get there."

"Fek . . . " DB muttered. He had no idea if this would work or not. He sat down on the side of the bed. "Eagle. Show me."

His vision carried him down through the yellow upper atmosphere, down over the rocky northern reaches, into a valley bordered by mountain behemoths. The valley opened out onto a massive plain, and not far from the mouth of the valley was a city gleaming in black. On its outskirts, a compound.

"I see. I see it," DB acknowledged. He looked to General Skywalker. "I can show you."

They made their way up to the flight deck.

"Echo, pull up the Copian global stretch map," Cody ordered.

Echo complied.

Double Barrel stood behind him and regarded the projection. "Northern hemisphere. Keep rotating . . . keep rotating. There, that's the land mass. This mountain range . . . can you zoom in, north, north, keep going north. Here! Where it opens into this big flood plain, there should be a city before you reach the sea. That's it. Northwestern edge of the city. That's the facility."

"That place is huge . . . it covers at least 100 square kilometers," Echo pointed out. "Which part is he in?"

"You can't see it from here. It's just below the surface," DB replied.

"He'll be able to show us how to get in and where to go once we get there, right?" Cody asked.

Double Barrel was not committal. "It doesn't quite work that way." He could feel questioning eyes upon him, but it was General Skywalker who came to his rescue.

"Eagle doesn't travel the way we do," he said. "He goes straight through time and space. Those walls, that rock . . . he passes through them. He doesn't use doors and hallways."

"So, how will we find the captain in all that?" Top asked.

"He'll get us closer once we're down there," DB said assuredly. "He just has to work within our limitations."

"And here, General Skywalker, is where we can enter the atmosphere without detection. Over the northern pole, the atmospheric dust creates a kind of vortex that deflects any kind of orbital tracking system. And here between the mountains and the sea is one of the areas not covered by any ground-based system," Echo pointed out. "These low bluffs here . . . I think we could set Endeavor down here, and we'd only be just over four kilometers from the compound." A pause. "It's a narrow lane, but we can do it. Her stealth capability will help."

Anakin gave a curt nod. He called the others up to the flight deck.

"Okay, everyone. DB's eagle has found Rex. So, now it's up to us." He recounted the scant details of what they already knew , then proceeded with assigning tasks. "Three-Point, Zinger, you're both staying with Endeavor. Again, she's our ride out of here. If she's lost, so are we. And . . . I'm afraid this time I can't leave anyone to protect you. I'm going to need everyone else to get into that place, find Rex, and get out. We're likely to run into a lot of company."

"We'll be fine, General," Three-Point replied. "She's got some armament and good defensive capabilities. Don't worry about us."

"Right now, I want every piece of information we can find on that compound. How to get in, the best way to approach undetected, manpower—everything you can find," Anakin continued. "Echo, you have one hour to gather as much data as possible."

"General Skywalker," Sixer spoke up. "When you tasked us earlier to study the planet, Sempe and I focused on this area. We'd like to work with Echo to go over what we already know."

"Agreed," Anakin nodded. He looked at Top and Jesse. "You two figure out how to modulate our comm so that they can't detect it."

"We'll do what we can, Sir," Top replied. "Their technology is very advanced. It might not be possible."

"Find a way, Captain." A pause. "Everyone, check your equipment. This is going to be a one-shot only. Once we go in, we're not leaving without him. If anyone gets in your way, kill them. We won't get another chance. Meet back here in one hour."

The night shift was Pe'ka's favorite time to work. It was quiet with only minimal manning to oversee operations. He could make his observations, run his tests, and conduct his research with little to no interruptions or distractions.

And admittedly, having the opportunity to observe a living subject as opposed to a corpse did offer a new, exciting perspective, even though he had tried to hide that aspect from Taitha. He would never want to give Taitha the satisfaction.

This subject, deteriorated as he might be, still offered much to study, much to pique the interest of a scientist looking at the effects of torture and how far a body could be pushed. Quite frankly, Pe'ka was amazed that this one was still alive. He had been exposed to such brutality that he should have been dead. Yes, the preservation methods of the sterile room were what was keeping him alive at this point, but how was it he had not died outright of shock or pain or fright in the lower levels. How could he have survived?

The clones they had taken prisoner and tortured in the past had lasted fairly long durations but nothing like this clone. They had been genetically engineered to be able to endure greater levels of pain and injury; but they were not indestructible. Every creature had its breaking point. Often enough, the will to live finally gave way under the agony.

Not so with this clone captain.

What was it Count Dooku wanted with him? What was the purpose in bringing him here yet ordering that he not be killed?

A realization began to take shape in Pe'ka's mind. "You're bait," he surmised. "He's using you as bait. But who is he trying to catch? And if you're here, whoever is coming after you will be coming here." It was a concerning thought. "And what will happen when they find you?"

He wondered if the Copian leadership had thought through any of these questions. Did they consider the possible consequences of their actions?

He raised his gaze and regarded the battered figure in the stasis column. "Why do I fear you are going to be more trouble than you're worth."

"Energy consumption appears to indicate that there's much less activity at night," Sixer stated. "That would mean there are probably fewer Copians on duty at night."

One hour had passed and the team had reassembled on the flight deck. Sixer was going over everything they had been able to glean from the last sixty minutes of scrutinizing data.

"The compound is surrounded by both physical fencing and razor wire, as well as a plasma barrier. There are eight identifiable gates, reinforced bytanium. It looks like these are cameras of some kind. It's well protected, like a prison. But we saw no roving patrols or any watchtowers. It looks like any surveillance is remote. Only the gates are manned," Sixer went on. "We surmised that the safest place to breach is along the northern perimeter. It's closest to where Endeavor could be brought down. The approach looks like fairly level terrain. And you could use the Force to levitate all of us over the fence; or you could go over and bring one or two of us, overpower the men at the gate and let the rest of the team inside."

He paused before continuing, as if bracing himself to give bad news. "We do have some schematics of the layout of the buildings but not what's inside them or even discern how many levels there are beneath the surface. From the power draw, it's clear that there's a lot more to it than what we see on the surface. If we were able to use Endeavor's scanners, we might get more information; but that would also risk detection."

"We'll have to rely on the Force and the eagle once we get down there," Anakin stated.

"It looks like there are some main routes and side roads," Sixer added. "So we can probably plan a route once we're down. The side roads are probably less busy."

"When we get in there, unless we have a clear direction right away, Sixer I want you to take lead in finding a way inside," Anakin ordered. He faced the entire team – even Major Swin lingered at the back of the flight deck. "I know we're not going in with much information, but we knew when we set out that this wasn't going to be easy. We've been looking for three weeks. Now, we're here, and this is it. We're either going to be successful or die trying." He turned to his two pilots. "You two sure you can get her through the opening?"

"Not a problem, General Skywalker."

Anakin drew in a deep breath. "Then let's go."

NOTE: I know everyone wants to get to the rescue, but I enjoy including flashbacks and little snippets of things from the characters' past. Helps flesh out the characters even more.