Barton IV

Rebel Cell Base

"That's the last of the bodies buried. Here's the list." Finor handed her the datapad, looking tired. They were both getting older. There was no telling how long this fledgling rebellion was going to last. The Empire was entrenched and in such a short time; they must have been planning this for years.

She had time to think on this, during the nights when she couldn't sleep, and when she was checking the clone. They needed to train the youngsters, as there would be the inevitable losses.

Donca read the list; so many were lost. She didn't know most of them, they were new, from the other side of the planet. They spoke a different language but as soon as Zak had tinkered with their coms, they could understand one another. There were also a few of her own in there. A few brothers, sisters, daughters and sons, who were never going to return to their families.

"Still unconscious?" Finor nodded to the back room.

"Yes." Donca finally answered, after Finor's voice brought her back to the present

"So you're going to have to make a decision soon."

"This afternoon. I'll examine him again and if there's no change, I'll have to operate. He's stable but there has been no improvement for days."

"Remind me. Have you ever done this procedure before?"

"You know I haven't. Only observed."

"And what exactly do you have to do?"

"Drill into his skull, remove a tiny piece of bone and hope it relieves the pressure."

"Sounds barbaric."

"It is but we have no medical droid or bacta tank. So it's the only way."

"Will it work?"

"I don't know until I do it. I have the mediscanner which will tell me where the pressure is so I can direct it but that's the best I can do with no equipment and no med droid."

"Is that why you're delaying? In case it doesn't work. And you kill him."

She just looked at him. He was as blunt as ever but it was true perhaps she was just delaying the inevitable.

.

The time had finally come, he was still stable but there had been fluctuations in his heartbeat and blood pressure, any further delay and it may not work.

There were just the three of them.

Donca, Kroll and Lina. She had decided anymore would be a distraction.

They were as sterile as they could be in their little medical set up. They developed it from scratch but it had never been used for anything as complicated or intricate as this. They just patched up the injured so far.

Lina held the scanner steady.

Donca breathed slowly.

"His vitals are stable." Confirmed Kroll. "Heartbeat steady. Blood pressure is a little low but steady."

That could change in a second.

She made a cut, in the middle of the blue X, parting a flap of skin, then picked up the drill, they found it in the Hospital museum and she wasn't sure what prompted her to bring it other than it was one of the few instruments that didn't need a power cell.

Donca stretched out her synth gloved hands before grasping the drill; she placed it firmly against his exposed skull. It was the nearest point according to the mediscanner. Marking the body was something she read old surgeons did, so they didn't amputate the wrong limb. She needed to be steady now. She swallowed and turned the handle, she couldn't stop now. She kept a steady turning motion, it was harder going than she had thought but eventually she felt the resistance stop and she saw deep dark brown blood ooze from the wound.

She moved away and dropped the tiny circle of bone in the stainless steel bowl, rinsing it with saline solution and covering it, before carefully dabbing at the wound. She saw a tiny portion of the brain but she daren't actually go in there. She covered the wound with synth skin to keep out infections and placed the makeshift cage over his head. This was as much as she could do, hopefully his body could heal now.

"What's the scanner show?" She asked, dreading the reply.

"The dark area has reduced a fraction."

"We'll keep it covered and monitor him for an hour and then see. I'll take the first hour."

"That was amazing." Lina almost breathed it out.

"It didn't feel amazing, just bloody scary."

"I'll take the second hour." Kroll volunteered. He was a good medic.

"We'll check in again then." She watched the clone's face; it was peaceful but looked older than she thought, if she remembered the Intel on them from the War correctly. Flecks of grey in his hair and beard, longer than soldiers normally wore unless they were like hers, insurgents. Rebels, the Empire called them. Freedom fighters was her name for them.

.

Donca sat nursing the caf, swirling it around the tin mug, it was already cold. This was her third hour of monitoring the clone, as she couldn't sleep and he was still stable. She had sent the others away to get some sleep, knowing she wouldn't. The dregs of the cold caf tasted even more bitter.

The mediscanner was fully charged again and she passed it over his wound. It had stopped bleeding freely a while ago, the dark brown blood with traces of something else, had worried her but that had all ceased. She stared at the results. She rubbed her eyes and stared again. The dark area reduced had yet again, by a larger amount. She was starting to be hopeful that it had worked. She had not really expected it to but she couldn't stand by and do nothing.

She heard the curtain move behind her.

"I thought you were sleeping." Finor asked.

"Couldn't. My mind was racing."

"How is he?" Finor studied the clone.

"The injured area is actually healing." She heard herself say.

"Why are you so surprised, you're a good Doctor." He replied.

"Was a good doctor. It's been a while since I practised. And I was never a surgeon."

"He seems to be doing well."

"I think it's more to do with his body, how quickly it heals, and not my treatment. He's healing well."

Finor watched her, feeling apprehensive on how invested she appeared with this; it always felt better saving someone rather than killing them. He knew that himself from experience.

"Perhaps you should get some rest. Let one of the others take over."

"Yes. You're right."

.

Coruscant Opera House

The Finale.

Hela reached the high notes, strong and clear as she always did, and the satisfaction of doing so washed over her. It was short lived as the Tenor stood in front of her, again — this was the third time he had ignored the choreographed stage direction. The first time he made her look as if she didn't know what she was doing that she had forgotten her place. Like an amateur. This time she moved around him seamlessly, continuing to play her part to perfection.

Two could play at that game; she raised her arm, singing the final phrases, directed to the boxes. The Chancellor had been there the previous night but the Tenor had been on his best behaviour then, following the stage directions to the inch. He knew the Chancellor understood the Opera and knew the piece intimately.

And that she knew the Chancellor.

She looked up, there were other boxes, mostly for Senators. The Naboo box had pride of place next to the Chancellor's. Now there was someone in there, she recognised the two sitting high up and directed her voice to them.

Turning back to the Tenor, she dropped dramatically to the floor, clasping his waistcoat in her hands, pulling him down with her, as she played out her death throes. This was her death scene and she could milk it all she wanted.

She could see the anger on his face.

When she finally died, lying on the floor, her arm draped over her face, she opened one eye a crack to check if they were still sitting in the box.

She desperately wanted to smile, as she saw Ben and Cody standing up clapping but she remained in character.

The Tenor held out his hand, she gripped it tightly. One night, he released his grip and let her hand slip out of his and she dropped heavily back to the floor weighted down by her intricately embroidered costume. He made her look clumsy again, or worse. It only needed one inaccurate rumour to go around about 'substances' and she could be dropped from the Opera. All those years of work for nothing.

Hela stood up gracefully and bowed to him, and then the audience, smiling widely. She accepted the bouquet of flowers from the silver protocol droid.

They walked off stage together, beaming and seemingly inseparable, until they reached the wings.

"What the kriff was that all about?" She demanded, turning on him.

"I don't know what you mean." He turned away.

She grabbed his arm, tugging at him, "Don't turn away from me. I'm talking to you!"

He turned slowly back, "I said I don't know what you mean."

"You deliberately stood in front of me, ignoring stage direction."

"You're mistaken."

"No! I'm not!"

He crossed his arms, "And what do you call that death scene?"

"Brilliant!" She retorted.

"Kriffing rubbish! If you can't take it, little girl, get out. The Chancellor isn't here now." He hissed, his face in hers.

"Why you…..."

"Hela my dear. That was amazing."

Ben's calming voice interrupted her tirade against the now silent Tenor and she turned to face him, smiling.

"Oh. Am I interrupting something?" Ben said calmly.

He always managed to calm her down. Even when he was obviously grieving for Qui Gon Jinn, he and Anakin helped the lost children of Naboo, the ones traumatised and displaced by the invasion. The ones like her who had lost their whole family in the camps.

Commander Cody was standing next to him, his eyebrow raised.

Both she and the Tenor back tracked.

"Oh no Ben." —"Oh no Master Jedi." They said simultaneously before the Tenor exited left quickly.

"I fear he was going to get the sharp edge of your tongue for overstepping his mark on the stage."

She opened her mouth and closed it quickly.

Obi Wan smiled and stroked his moustache. Cody grinned.

"It's not funny. He blocked me, making me look stupid."

"In the end my dear, he looked stupid and everyone realised that because they knew it was your move and not his. And…"

"And?" She asked.

"The death scene was over dramatic, even for you." His eyes crinkled as he smiled behind his beard.

She pulled her head dress off, furiously, as Zur approached.

"Hello Zur." Obi Wan greeted her personal assistant and dresser.

"Master Jedi, Commander." He nodded to them both.

"I need to get changed and then I want to ask you something." Zur lifted the edge of her costume, taking some of its weight; she almost sighed as she felt the relief in her shoulders. They headed to her dressing room; Obi wan and Cody following.

"Take a seat. Help yourself." She indicated a tray of snacks and drinks as she disappeared behind a screen.

Obi Wan nodded and Cody dived in, piling a plate up and sitting down to eat.

Several minutes later, Hela came out, the costume disposed of, make up removed and wearing a simple silk wrap.

Cody watched her, always amazed at how young she looked out of the costumes and makeup

"Commander Mayday."

Cody looked up from his food, mid chew. He swallowed, wondering why she was asking about one of his best men.

"Yes? Was there a problem?" He asked before his General could.

"Yes. Me. I was not very nice to him and wish to send him an apology."

Cody cleared his throat, "I'm sure it wasn't a problem Hela but we can get a message to him, if you wish."

"I thought perhaps something more tangible."

"Tangible?"

Obi Wan sat smiling at the interaction, the Commander was getting more adept at dealing with civilians.

"Yes. As in a present. Perhaps something useful?"

The natborns really don't understand how this works, he thought, "The GAR supplies everything we need."

She looked at Ben, he appeared to be leaving this to Cody to deal with.

"Everything?"

"Most things."

Hela made herself a drink of honey and limon, and took several sips.

"I was thinking of a cloak." She said ignoring Cody's comment about the GAR and looked at Ben, who remained non committal then to Cody, trying to gauge his reply.

"He doesn't need anything."

"But I've already bought it and it's wrapped. I was going to give it to you, to ensure he received it." She looked beseechingly at Cody.

He reminded himself that she was also an actress, who had died convincingly, if dramatically on stage.

"Ben?" She turned to the Jedi.

He had given up trying to get her to use his full name years ago.

"I'm sure that would be acceptable." He replied before turning to look at Cody.

"Oh good. Here. I do hope it's okay. I do think I was not very nice to him." she pushed a parcel at Cody.

He automatically took it.

Both Obi Wan and Cody's coms pinged simultaneously.

She sighed. "That means you have to go, doesn't it?"

"I'm afraid so." Replied Obi Wan.

"One day we will have that after performance supper." She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as Cody watched trying not to smile.

So much for Jedi non-attachment.

.

Obi Wan and Cody walked away from the Galaxies Opera House, heading back to the speeder park.

"You're very quiet, Commander."

"She's quite a force of nature sir.

"So you felt that as well." He smiled, "You will be able to ensure the Junior Commander gets his cloak."

"Oh yes." Cody replied, thinking if there were any regulations that prevented it. None came to mind; Mayday would just have to put up with the comments from his brothers.

"He seems to have made quite an impression on her."

"Yes he has."

Was his General asking if anything happened. He wasn't blind to the fact his men were the same as any other human but Cody had never thought of Hela as impressionable. It wasn't that he was jealous, just curious. He got on well with her, enjoyed a joke and meal at Dex's and he didn't think she played with clones feelings or he never got that impression from her. She always seemed fairly blunt and to the point.

"He never mentioned there being a problem and I'm sure he behaved correctly."

"I'm sure he did and there probably wasn't a problem."

"Not a problem, then why?"

"She probably over analysed what happened when they met, going over and over what happened until it becomes a problem in her mind that she has to deal with. It's something that she has done since the Battle of Naboo."

"Some kind of anxiety?"

"Yes."

"It took her years but she eventually admitted she argued with her sister just before she died."

"In the Battle?"

"She was one of the Handmaidens."

"Ah!" He knew all about the Royal Handmaidens.

He may just keep an eye on this. Mayday was a good vod. He didn't need to be distracted.

.

Kamino

"Ooof!" Mayday let out the gasp involuntarily, as he hit the floor; his breath knocked from him momentarily. Veetch was good, better than most, although this was a friendly spar, he would have to up his game soon. He hated being bested; Veetch shouldn't be better. They were clones, they were the same.

He sprang back up to his feet and took up a position, poised ready for the next hold.

"Mayday!" Alpha's voice rang out across the training floor.

Mayday straightened up, wondering what he had done wrong now. Although he was technically Alpha's superior, Alpha was the trainer so he was in charge and he knew it.

Mayday trotted towards his trainer and stood to attention, saluting as Alpha waited.

"The General wants to see you." Alpha's eyes narrowed.

"General?"

"Yes, General Shaak Ti." You could almost hear the sigh in his voice, as he replied. This was an unusual request. "Ops HQ."

"Yes sir."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Mayday pulled on his fatigues and strode away, wondering why the General needed to see him, he couldn't imagine why it was imperative that he see her. A week into the ARC training on Kamino and he was being singled out. There was still the fear of being singled out by the Kaminoans; he took a deep breath. He reminded himself that things had changed. He walked through the immaculately white corridors, watching the young cadets as they passed him by in squads. He felt their gazes as they passed. His mind still went back to that first deployment day, for Geonosis, when it all became real.

He pressed the buzzer to Ops HQ. It was the first time he had been here and looked much like any other Ops Room, manned by members of Rancor. He noted Commander Colt standing in front of the display screen studying the display of the training cities layout, with its monitoring equipment. He tried to see as much as he could whilst he was here, in case Alpha sprang anything on them. Any Intel is useful.

Mayday walked up to the togrutan General and saluted, "Commander Mayday, ma'am."

She turned slowly around; she always looked so calm and gentle and yet she had participated in the Battle of Geonosis. The Kaminoan next to her watched the interaction with interest.

"Commander. I have something for you."

He was confused.

"For me? There must be some mistake. I don't need anything."

"It's from Commander Cody, via Master Kenobi."

She handed him a small supply crate; he took it reluctantly.

"Thank you ma'am."

"Dismiss Commander."

He saluted and marched out, the curiosity almost killing him as to why Cody would send him anything via the General. He checked his chrono. Unless Alpha had changed his mind, the training had finished and it was meal time; he headed for the mess hall, container tucked under his arm.

Pushing through the doors, he looked out for the training squad and spotted Veetch with Wilco in the corner. He picked up a tray and made his choice, although it looked pretty much like every meal they had here. Nothing like the deep fried Nuna eggs and spicy hot tubers he'd had at Dex's, he thought, as he watched the droid dispense his meal.

He zigzagged his way to the table and sat down, putting his container next to his tray.

"So, what did the General want?" Veetch asked as soon as Mayday's backside hit his seat, eying the crate at the same time.

"She gave me that." He indicated the container, "It's from Commander Cody."

"Cody?" Asked Wilco, as both his brothers peered at it.

"What's in it?" Asked Veetch.

"Don't know. Not opened it," he replied between mouthfuls of what was supposed to be soup.

"Why not?"

"It could be anything."

"Anything? As in contraband?"

"That's the Commander you're talking about. A Marshall Commander. He's not going to send me contraband is he?"

"I don't know from what I heard he was very inventive when he was in training; something about a still with the pilots. It was how he got to be Marshall Commander."

"There's always rumours about some brothers."

"He thumps droids as well."

Mayday smiled, "He does."

"So are you going to open it."

"Easy there. I will, back in the squad room. Don't be impatient."

Mayday liked Veetch; he was a good vod. When he got his command he may put in for him. It depended on what Cody had in mind for him. He stared down at the food, wishing it was from Dex's.

.

They sat in the Trainees squad room, Veetch and Wilco watching with interest as Mayday opened the box.

There was a sheet of flimzi on the top; Mayday picked it up and the two plasticards, which were on top of a cloth. He read the hand written note.

'Dear Commander. I wish to apologise for my behaviour when you escorted me home. Please accept this gift as an apology and two invitations to the club when I am performing there.

Thank you.

Hela.

xxx'

He frowned not sure what she meant by behaviour and lifted the cloth from the crate.

"It's a cloak." Veetch stated the obvious. "Why would anyone send you a cloak? Is it a joke?"

"I don't think so. I think she just doesn't know much about clones."

Wilco leaned over and rubbed the cloth between his fingers. "Nice cloth." He said.

"What do you know about cloth?" Demanded Veetch.

Wilco shrugged, "Just sayin' it felt nice, soft."

"Yeah…what? Did you say she? Tell me more." Veetch leaned forward.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Nothing to tell." Veetch's voice raised an octave and he almost spluttered.

"I just made sure she got home safe, as the Commander requested."

"When?" Butted in Wilco.

"The day before I left Coruscant."

"Tell us more." They chorused.

"Nothing happened," he slammed the lid back on. "I'm hitting the shower."

Then he pushed the crate in his locker.