Dear Reader, It's been a long time. I had a long trip to Europe and another to Africa. Plus, I've started a new job. Lots on my plate. But here's a short chapter and hopefully I can get back on a regular schedule soon. Thanks, CS

Chapter 147

"Hope whispers and I will follow."

Winter Light

No one was going to tell her what to do anymore.

Not Commander Cody.

Not General Skywalker.

She had played by their rules long enough.

Six days had passed since arriving on Bertegad, and all Major Swin knew about Rex was that he was still in dire condition but at least did not seem to be getting any worse. She had only been to see him twice, each time in the company of several clones. Other than that, she had done as Commander Cody had ordered and not gone off on her own. Well . . . except one time to sneak to the ship in the middle of the night to check for any incoming transmissions.

Now she knew that it would only be a day or two before unexpected company arrived—unexpected to everyone but her—and shortly thereafter, she would most likely be leaving the planet . . . along with the others who had set off on this journey from the start.

Her window of opportunity was shrinking, and she'd be damned if she didn't get to spend any time alone with him before her hand was revealed.

Stepping out of her room in the Seiba Tops, she gave a satisfied nod to the rain – an added assurance that no one would be venturing out in the middle of the night. The clone troopers were all asleep in their own rooms; she could even hear some of them snoring.

Now, as she hurried along the pathway towards the healing rooms, she had only to concern herself with General Skywalker's whereabouts. And Commander Cody, who had a tendency to pop up where she least expected.

But running into them and bringing down their admonishment was a risk she was willing to take. Let them think what they wanted. She knew how she felt about Rex—at least, she had a sense of wanting something she couldn't have, and that was intolerable. Conquest had always been part of Donya's life; and as a beautiful woman, she had always been assured of prevailing. Her failure with Rex had rankled her, but somewhere in the offense of that rejection, she had found something genuine in him that pulled her in and would not let go. She had convinced herself as such and had been fully prepared to pursue him despite his protestations . . . and then this had happened.

She could have let her infatuation go. She could have left the clones to conduct their search while she moved on to another assignment. But instead, she had volunteered . . .

And now the fallout from her volunteering was fast approaching.

She went past the Taber, through the garden, and came to the healing rooms.

Everything was quiet. The handful of brothers and sisters she passed in the corridors didn't know that she was under orders to always be accompanied. They paid her no mind other than a nod of acknowledgment or a smile of greeting.

Outside Rex's room, she stopped and peered around the door jamb. A sister was finishing up some activity in the room. She turned and startled to see Donya looking inside.

"Oh! I didn't know anyone was there. Are you here to see him?"

"Yes, Sister, if that's alright. Am I outside visiting hours?"

"We have no visiting hours here," came the kind reply. "You are more than welcome."

As the sister made to leave, Donya asked, "Has he regained consciousness yet?"

"Not yet," the sister answered. "His condition is still critical."

Donya nodded. "Has General Skywalker been here lately? Or Commander Cody?"

"I just came on shift, so I couldn't tell you."

"Thank you."

With that, the sister left the room and Donya walked over to the bed and the shimmering cold field. For some reason, everything appeared different, more precise and defined, now that she was alone with him as opposed to being accompanied by troopers. Perhaps it was the feeling that she could focus her attention, or simply the fact that this was her first time alone with him since before any of this had happened; but she felt, looking at him—still grossly disfigured, the signs of brutality still visible despite the cold field's progress—that this was where she was meant to be at that moment, that he would derive strength from her presence. She could be part of the healing power. And whatever happened after this, Rex would know that she had done her part to save him. It was self-indulgent, yes; even a bit whimsical and childish; but Donya was the hero of her own world and everything in it.

She pulled up a chair, sat down, and reached into the cold field, taking Rex's hand in hers.

"They can throw me out if they want," she said under her breath. "At this point, I don't care. I wanted to come see you . . . by myself." She fell silent for a moment. Her thoughts were jumbled and moving quickly. One moment she was justifying in her mind her right to be there; the next, she was insisting to herself that she loved him and, if given the chance, he would fall in love with her. She chided him silently for thinking he was not attracted to her, for resisting her overtures. She demanded, without words, vindication of the clandestine communications she had been making.

At last, she spoke aloud, soft and fierce. "They can't save you here. I'm the only one who has your best interest at heart. I'm going to make sure you have a fighting chance. They may hate me for it, but—" she stopped talking at the sound of movement. Looking up, she saw Doma Maree standing in the doorway.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry," Maree apologized. "I didn't know you were in here. Would you like some more time alone with him?"

Donya hesitated for a split-second before making a calculated show of withdrawing her hand, as if she had been caught doing something she had not wanted anyone to see. This was an opportunity she would not let go to waste. "No, it's alright. You can come in."

Maree moved next to the bed and put her hand on Rex's forehead.

"Is there any change?" Donya asked.

After a few seconds, Maree replied without removing her hand. "Physically, yes. There has actually been much improvement, but he was so weak, so injured to start with, he is still in grave condition." A pause. "Metaphysically, he is much the same as he was when he arrived."

"I don't understand that. Metaphysically?" Donya asked.

Maree drew her hand back. "His soul, his spirit. I can't reach him. I can't find him."

Donya inclined her head. "What does that mean?"

Maree hesitated, a veil of sadness descended over her face. "It means either he doesn't want to continue in this life, or someone or something is . . . keeping him hidden."

Both women were silent, then Maree went on. "You did not have to take your hand away. It might be a source of comfort to him. Perhaps he can sense that someone is nearby."

Donya was shrewd. She narrowed her eyes. "And it wouldn't bother you to see me holding his hand?"

"To deny comfort to a dying man? No, it would not bother me to see you holding his hand," Maree replied.

But Donya did not take his hand.

"A dying man," she said in a whisper. "So, even though he is improving, he's still dying?"

"A man who doesn't want to live is always dying . . . moment by moment."

Her words were distressing.

Donya got to her feet and paced across the room, finally going to the window and looking out into the night. "Don't you think it's unfair?"

Maree had been expecting Donya's next words to be something about how unfair it was that something like this should happen to Rex, that a good man should have been tortured and driven to the point of losing his desire to live. But the major's next words proved her wrong.

"Unfair to deny him the kind of love and relationship with a woman that every man desires?"

Maree was taken back by this statement. But there was no reason to be miffish in return. She had always considered that other women would be attracted to Rex; and it was only reasonable to think he would be attracted in return. Still, she had never doubted the sincerity of his pledge to her, and she did not doubt it now. She replied with equanimity. "It may be more accurate to say that it was unfair that he fell in love with a woman who is bound by the order of her calling. But I did not hold him bound."

Donya turned and faced her. "But he was held bound. Whether it was your intention or not, he fell in love with you, and he wasn't going to love anyone else."

Maree inclined her head. "Do you speak from your own experience?"

This was the moment. This was the decision point. Donya could lie or she could tell the truth. Or do both in varying degree.

"I did everything I could to win him over, and he would have loved me had it not been for you," she replied. "I would have given him everything that he needed, everything he wanted. But the one thing I couldn't give him was that I couldn't be you. And now, here he is, dying, and you can't do anything to save him. Your love isn't going to save him. Your prayers aren't going to save him. All the skill and knowledge that your people have isn't going to save him. So, I guess you and I are facing the same truth now. Neither of us is going to be with him."

Maree considered her words then moved slowly to stand next to her at the window. "There is an element of truth in everything you say. But his choices were his own. You could no more compel him to love you than I could compel him not to love me. But the difference between you and me is that I believe there is still a future, even if not in this life."

"Well, that's a nice thought," Donya said with a bit of a sneer in her voice. "But what good is it now? This is the present, and if you're right, he's going to die without ever having had the chance to experience the love of a woman."

Maree was not put off by the puerile nature of Donya's words.

"You speak as if physical love were the only love worth having," Maree replied. "I dare say, Rex has experienced much greater love than that already."

"So, you think what you've given him is more—"

"Not what I've given him," Maree interrupted. "What his men have given him. His soldiers. Commander Cody. General Skywalker. They have loved him without condition, without reservation." A pause. "Without fear." A smile formed on her lips. "I could see that from the moment they first came here. His soldiers . . . it was as if he were the star around which they all moved. They were drawn to him and would have done anything for him—a fact which is bearing itself out right now." She shook her head with a slight laugh. "At first, I couldn't understand it, because he seemed so sour, so cross. But he wasn't. He was the one who was afraid, afraid of how much they loved him."

Donya turned a doubtful eye. "That doesn't sound like Rex at all."

"That is the Rex I know," Maree replied.

"Or the Rex you wanted to know," Donya pushed back.

Maree cocked her head to one side in consideration. "Perhaps."

"Well, it sounds like you created a fantasy man in your mind," Donya sniped. "Because the Rex I knew wasn't afraid of anything; and he was immovable. Nothing could sway him. He didn't have a soft spot in him."

"And yet, you fell in love with such a man?" Maree asked, more in the tone of making a point.

Donya realized she'd been outwitted – or at least, she'd outwitted herself.

"I didn't say I was in love with him," she retorted.

"But you wanted him to be in love with you?" Maree reminded her of her words spoken only moments earlier.

Flustered, Major Swin drew in an angry breath. "I stand by my original point, that it wasn't fair of you to let him think there might be a chance for the two of you."

Maree decided the best way to proceed with this conversation was to simply walk away. She understood how stressful situations could cause a person to say all sorts of thoughtless or unkind things; but she could also sense that there was something else underlying the major's muted hostility. A lover scorned, perhaps. Jealousy. Bitterness. But it was nothing that mattered at the moment, and Maree was determined not to get into an argument over it.

"And you are free to believe as you please," she said gently. She put her hand on Donya's arm. "In the meantime, pray for him. Give him whatever you can."

Something about these words only furthered inflamed the dislike inside Donya, as if she were being patronized. And how dare this plain-looking woman act superior to someone so obviously more beautiful and intriguing? Did this holy leader imagine herself in any way equal to or surpassing an intelligence major in the Grand Army of the Republic?

As she watched Doma Maree walked towards the door, she said with spite, "I don't believe in prayer."

Maree paused on the threshold. "Then hope," she said quietly before leaving.

"Pitch!"

Pitch turned at the sound of Jesse's voice. He stopped walking and waited for his squad mate to catch up to him.

"You okay?" Jesse inquired.

"Yeah," Pitch replied, sounding worn and sad. "Just . . . surprised Kix would act like that."

Jesse frowned. "You know he didn't mean it. He's scared."

"We're all scared," Pitch pointed out.

"Yeah," Jesse agreed. "But don't let his reaction shake your faith. You know, it's not that he doesn't believe in something greater out there. I think he just can't get over his own feeling of helplessness, that he can't do anything to make this better." A pause. "You know how he is. It has to be hard on him."

Pitch nodded in concession. "I'm sure it brings back some bad memories." He looked Jesse in the eye. "But we should be focusing on good memories . . . like General Skywalker telling us the story of when he first met the captain. If all we have is negative energy, that's not going to do the captain any good."

"Maybe we should try that," Jesse suggested. "What do you say we go back to the room and talk about the good stuff, maybe about the first time we met the captain."

Pitch gave a small, genuine grin. "We didn't know what to make of him."

"Top did," Jesse corrected.

"Yeah, you're right," Pitch agreed. "He was ready to fall down at his feet."

Mayotta. Three years earlier.

They were six hours into the land navigation exercise.

Six hours of hard going under two ARC trainees who could not be more opposite in temperament, manner, or tactical planning. The lieutenant, who seemed to embody the competitive nature and was inspiring just by his presence. The commander, who was serious and dour, yet appeared to be more discerning and calculating than the lieutenant.

The cadets were still forming opinions of their new leadership. A few minutes earlier, after a protracted and somewhat contentious discussion about approaching weather and the best route to take, the commander had prevailed; and the platoon was now headed off a high plateau down into a narrowing gorge.

Hanging back from behind the two platoon leaders, CT-4441 leaned in close to Jesse. "So, what do you think of our platoon leaders?" he asked quietly.

Jesse grinned. "I think they don't care much for each other."

"That's because CT-3636 is a Swuhune's ass," 2080 tossed in from behind them.

"That's because he insulted you," 4441 poked.

"He's a just a bit gruff," Jesse deferred. "We've heard much worse from our training officers back home."

"Yeah, well . . . " 2080 shrugged.

"They argue a lot," 4441 put forth.

"CT-3636 has a reputation, though," Jesse pointed out. "He works for Jedi General Plo Koon, and I've heard the general thinks very highly of him."

"Enh, I'm sure he's fully capable," 2080 said grudgingly. "But that doesn't make him any less of an ass."

"I like him," 4441 stated. "I like them both. And it's kind of funny to watch them bump heads."

"Well, listening to them, I wouldn't be surprised if they end up bumping fists by the time this is over," 2080 said, sounding far too enthusiastic at the prospect. "I'd pay to see that."

Jesse chuckled. "You'd be taking bets, too."

From behind them, CT-2085-4 chimed in. "My money would be on the commander."

"No way," 4441 disagreed. "He's too stiff. The LT is the more flexible. He'd bend the rules to win. The LT looks tougher."

Jesse cocked his head to one side in mock deep consideration. "You just like the hair. It's hard to say. Looking mean doesn't always equate to being tougher. Look at you, 4441. You don't look mean at all, but you can take every man in this platoon – maybe even the platoon leaders."

"You know I love flattery," 4441 said with a grin. "And yes, I can whip every single one of you guys. But I think the commander and the lieutenant would both chew me up and spit me out."

Jesse looked back over his shoulder at the platoon's sole medic and his squad-mate. "What do you say, 6116? Who would you bet on?"

CT-6116 smiled. "I wouldn't want to face either one of them in a fight."

"That wasn't the question," 4441 pressed.

"Hm. It's too soon to tell," the medic begged off.

CT-4441 shook his head. "I suppose after you conduct a scientific, observational analysis, you'll be able to make a bet."

"Every time I get into a bet with you guys, I lose," 6116 replied. "Maybe I've just learned my lesson by now."

"It must be raining hard upstream." This observation, made by a platoon mate with the nickname Chipper, owing to his upbeat demeanor, drew their attention away from the current inane conversation. "This creek is definitely outside its boundaries."

"What's a little water?" 2080 chirped. "Keeps things interesting."

"Speaking of interesting . . . " This from Cadet Bead, trudging along a few paces behind them. He raised his voice.

"There's a dame on Coruscant!"

The rest of the cadets immediately echoed back, "A dame on Coruscant!"

"Sets me all on fire!"

"Sets me all on fire!"

"I'd say she's good-looking!

But that'd make me a liar!

Her talents lie elsewhere!

To that I can attest!

Republic women!

We got the very best!"

Up ahead of them, the lieutenant turned and looked back over his shoulder with a broad, approving grin. He began singing along with the cadence.

CT-3636 did not.

Pounding along beside Jesse, CT-4441 leaned in. "See, I told you. The LT is one of us. He gets my vote."

Jesse smiled. "One of us? We're cadets. Let's hope he's beyond 'one of us.'"

"Eh, you know what I mean."

"I do, yeah. He makes you feel like . . . you're not beneath him."

"My kind of officer."

"Maree?"

The Doma turned at the sound of her name. She had only just returned to her residence after leaving Major Swin at the healing rooms. It was still well before dawn, and she had finally decided that some sleep might be in order, however scant.

Nova Merika stood in the doorway to Maree's bedroom. "You have a visitor. It's Commander Cody."

Maree followed her out immediately into the foyer, and here she saw Cody standing in the center.

"Commander, you are welcome. Please come in and have a seat."

"Can we go somewhere . . . private?" Cody asked.

"Of course," Maree replied. "My entire residence is private. In the sitting room, no one will disturb us."

"I'd rather go outside, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind. Come, we'll go to the side veranda."

The side veranda was raised and partially overlooking the gardens. It was covered, which was good in case the rain started up again, which it was sure to do.

Cody began with an apology. "I'm sorry to come here so late at night. But I saw you leave the healing rooms, so I figured I would be able to catch you before you went to sleep."

"No worries, Commander," Maree replied. "You can come to me any time of day or night."

Cody inclined his head to one side. "You may not feel that way when I tell you why I'm here."

Maree's silence invited him to continue.

"I heard you with Major Swin . . . in Rex's room," he began. "I came to the door and heard you both inside, and I . . . I guess you could say I was eavesdropping. I thought about coming in, but I . . . I wanted to hear what you had to say." He drew in a deep, sudden breath. "You said he's dying, that he doesn't want to come back."

"Yes . . . or it could be that he can't come back, he can't find the way," Maree added carefully.

Cody walked to the balustrade and leaned his hands against it. "I thought if we got him here, he'd have a fighting chance."

"And he does," Maree pointed out. "The only reason he's still alive is because of that chance. And this is no time to give up. He's in there. We just have to fight to get him back. Fight and pray."

"Interesting combination."

"The closest allies during war," Maree pointed out. She put a hand on his arm. "You mustn't lose faith, Cody."

"Well, that . . . that kind of brings me to the second thing I have to say," the commander said in a hesitant manner.

"Which is?"

He turned and faced her directly. "DB has the eagle. We've seen what the eagle can do. And if the eagle is that powerful, then . . . then you must have access to even greater power. You have all those souls at your fingertips."

Maree listened intently. She knew where he was going, but she would wait until he asked her outright.

Cody went on. "Would you be able—or would you be willing to use the souls to save him?"

A long pause ensued before Maree gave her answer. "I would be lying if I said I had not considered it. I think it is likely the souls could break through whatever is surrounding him and bring him back to us. They could heal him instantly – and in more ways than one." She now took Cody's hands in her own. "But that isn't their purpose. And it isn't for me to use them in that way." A pause. "Commander, I already had one terrible lapse in judgment, and souls could have been lost because of it. I dare not allow myself to fail like that again."

"Then . . . Rex is going to die?"

"I don't know that. There could be other interventions—"

"But what if there isn't?" Cody interjected, pulling free and taking a step back. "This is Rex we're talking about."

"I know that," Maree replied. "The souls know that. They want to help. But my instructions are clear. My task is clear. I cannot misuse their power for my own personal desires."

"This isn't just your desire," Cody persisted. "This is the desire of every man who risked his life to find Rex and bring him here. Every one of us would give our own life if it meant saving his."

"I know. I see that in you and in the others," Maree replied. "We have to find a way to convey that to him."

Cody took firm but gentle hold of her shoulders. "There is a way. You know it. I know it. We all know it. Can't you—can't you ask your God . . . wouldn't He understand?"

"Commander—"

"I'm begging you."

And with those words, Maree saw the anguish in his eyes that she had not seen before. She had seen the exhaustion, the worry, the fear. But now she saw the pain, being borne with strength for the benefit of the others, but burning into his heart like a dying ember – a slow and agonizing terror that his greatest friend, the most important person in his life was teetering on the precipice.

"I . . . can ask the Creator," Maree finally conceded.

Cody took her in a trembling embrace of both hope and gratitude. "Thank you."