Captain Rex Treks

Rex and Ahsoka follow Kit out of Mavado's workshop toward a medical ship.

“You two should have called me, ESPECIALLY since the baby is growing so fast.  It's not like a clone acceleration and a geriatric pregnancy at that.“

“Geriatric.” Ahsoka huffs under her breath.

“Now, mama.” Rex quietly soothed as he wrapped his arm about her shoulders.  Ahsoka smiled slightly as she grasped his fingers, then slows her walking pace.  She frowns slightly, holding a hand at her side,  the quickening strained her muscles followed by a slight energy swell within her.  

Rex looks at Ahsoka as he could feel a strange energy as well. “Now?” He whispers.

Ahsoka nods and holds him a little tighter.  “The Force -"

“Oh yeah,” Kit waves his hand, “The will of the Force.  Blah…blah…blah.”

Ahsoka looks at her friend clearly annoyed, Rex was quick to chime in, “Your timing is perfect.  We only just arrived when you called.”

Ahsoka pulls at her tightening shirt, “Rex…”

Rex taps his wrist com, “Rex to Captain Razer…”

“Yes, Sir.”  

Rex scans the countryside around them, “Any Seeker activity in the area?”

“None, Sir.  I have security patrols increased around you and the Sensitives settlements.  Nothing unusual is happening.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“You expecting trouble?”  Kit asked as he turned toward his patients.

“I don’t know what to expect at this time.  The Seeker found us somehow.” Rex's voice turned serious, with a tinge of worry, “If it weren’t for Gungi arriving when he did -"

“That is why I brought my ship.  At least it will give you some protection and an escape if needed until I get you home.”

“Woah, you really made remarkable improvements.”  Ahsoka complimented as she ran her hand across the nose of the ship.

Kit swelled with pride, “Yeah, needed more advanced features as patients are venturing farther from town.”  He opens the door, “I have appointments coming in, but for now, you are my priority.  Come along.”

Kit entered the ship and prepared for the exam. “Have a seat please, Founder.”  The DMO droid motioned to a reclining exam table.  Ahsoka sat on it, rolling up her shirt, exposing her round belly, as the droid scanned her.

Her husband gently rubbed her belly, “Force, ‘Soka.  Getting as big as a bolo-ball.”

“Oh, like this one?”  Ahsoka smiled as she caressed Rex's bald head.  Rex chuckled and kissed her cheek.

“How long ago was the last growth spurt?”  asked Kit as he put on his visor and taking a small disk, he slowly draws the disk around Ahsoka's belly.

“About twelve hours.”

Kit sees the droid's scan through the visor with a vision of the fetus and the measure of it's heartbeat, as he moves his hand scanner, he notices more minute details.

“Any pain?”

“Only before the attack. I never felt that kind of pain before, or since.”  

Ahsoka feels the growth swell intensify, “Is she…” Ahsoka takes a deep breath as she holds her sides, “I…is she…alright?” as she takes a few slow deep breaths.  Kits eyes widened in amazement as he held the disk firmly at the side of her belly.

“DMO…another scan, please.”  Moving the disk, the medic stared at the images within his visor, “Force…” he whispered, “I…I just saw a growth surge…at least six days advancement!”

“That is correct.” The droid affirmed.

“Incredible!” Kit pressed a button on his visor as the baby kicked under his hand, then stretched, “Ok, now you're showing off.”  Kit smiled as he tapped the protrusion as it settled down.  A few tiny kicks quickly replaced it.

“You feeling alright?”  he asked his patient.

“Quite hungry actually.”  Ahsoka blushed as a loud gurgling noise escaped from within her.

“I should say so.” The medic laughed, “When was the last time you ate?”

“Twenty minutes ago.”

“Good.  Eat more.  I'll increase your vitamin supplement.  I'm sure Bindi has it in stock.”  Kit looked at the droid as it projected the combination of both scans above them.

“You have more growth the expect, Ahsoka.  But the speed…” The medic draws his fingers across his small mustache, “I have never seen a Legacy grow so fast.  Here, she’s at thirty-one weeks...”  the baby then grew slightly larger and her tiny leku and montrel nubs began to form, “Now thirty-one weeks and six days.”

Ahsoka pulled down her shirt, now leaving a bare midriff.  She chuckles “Haven’t worn this style since my padawan days.”

“I didn’t care for it then,” Rex said, then a sly smile spread across his lips, “But, I love it now.”, he whispered, as he touched her bare belly, giving it a kiss.

“All right you two.” Complained Kit as he put his visor away.  

Rex helped his cayre off the exam table, “Come on, mama.  You heard the doc.  Time to eat.”

“Just stay close to home.  These growth surges are too unpredictable.” The medic said as he put data into his pad.

“I’m fine.”  Ahsoka said as she held Rex's arm as she steadied herself feeling the effect of the increased growth, “We have a meeting with the Kinterjey council.”  

“Ahsoka -"  The medic sighed in frustration, looking at his patients.  Rex nodded and hugged his wife.  “Just be sure to get your rest.”

“Yes, Kit.” Ahsoka confirmed as Rex gently tugged at her hand, “Alright, ‘Soka -" he said.

Kit calmly writes on a piece of paper, “Eat more meat…rare.  Eni deer heart is the best.  Togruta's need more iron especially when pregnant.”

“Yes, Kit.”  Ahsoka answered as Rex urged her toward the door.  

“Great!  Wolffe and I will go hunting first thing.”  Rex smiled edging toward the door.

“Give this to Bindi.  Tell her I'll stop by later.” Said the medic as he hands Ahsoka the prescription.

“Yes, Kit.”

“Alright, we'll save you a plate.”  Rex said cheerfully, then urgently tugging his wife's wrist, “Ahsoka, come on.”  Rex whispered urgently as he neared the door as it whooshed open.

“Not so fast, Captain.”

“Aughhh.” Rex rolled his eyes.

“You're next.”

“What?  I'm not pregnant.” Rex protested.

The medic looked at his reluctant patient sternly, “You were attacked by a first order seeker.  Gotta rule out any concussions.”

“But -"

‘The nightmares…Force, the nightmares… will they ever stop?’

Jacs rolled off his cot and took a drink of hard liquor hoping it would help him forget, at least for a little while.  

‘Good soldiers follow orders.’ That haunting phrase burned into his brain, not letting him go. ‘Good soldiers follow orders.’

Jacs dressed and quietly walked through the barracks of sleeping clone troopers.  

“Where ya goin, vod?”  Asked one of his many brothers.  It's been only a few days since the Jedi purge and the transition from the Republic to Empire was completed on Coruscant.  

“I don’t know.” Jacs muttered, shouldering into his civilian jacket, “Just a walk around. Got'ta think.”

The vod nodded.  “Want some company?”

“Na, jus want to be alone for a while.”

“Alright.”  The younger vod yawned, laying his head on his arm, “Don’t forget.  Stormtrooper Orientation begins at 0500.

“Yeah, see ya then.  Night, vod.”

Jacs walked out the barracks and kept on walking.  Soon he began to run, and run…and run.  

‘Good soldiers follow orders.  Good soldiers…Good…’  The clone medic screamed, stumbling to a brief stop, pounding his fists into his temples, “Force!  Stop! Stop!  Make it STOP!”

He stumbled a few paces before leaning against the corner of a building, crying uncontrollably, he throws up.

He looks  across the vast expanse of Coruscant’s cityscape viewing the spires of the Jedi temple.  

“I…I killed them.”, images of Jedi Guardians flashed in his mind, ” Force!…I killed them.”, images of old Jedi instructors, “I murdered.”, images of small younglings, “WHY! Why! Wh -”

Jacs pants, catching his breath, he rubs his tear filled eyes, as he looks up into a towering Stormtrooper recruiting poster.  

“No...no…no.  I’m done.” He presses his hot forehead against the cool stone of the building, “Never again…I’ll never fight again.  Kark it all.”   He collected himself and walked into a  nearby shiping yard.  

“Anyone looking for a ship hand? A medic?  I'll work my freight.  Just get me off this rock.”

“We're going to Obroa-skai.”

“That’s fine.  What do you want me to do?”

“What do you…want me to…do?” the ill vod whispered as  his caregiver wiped the side of his face with a cool cloth.

Old Medic Commander, Wyn, checked his patient's feeding tube.  “Kark'in fools.” He mutters silently as he administered medication into the vod's intravenous medical bag containing a cocktail infused with a full dose of anti-aging serum.  

Anger and disappointment filled his heart as he learned that his ill vod was suffering needlessly from his radiation poisoning.  The treatments given to him were barely adequate.  “Why didn't you come home sooner?”

Days ago, Jacs fell unconscious and with him, any hope Wyn had of leaving Kamino as Jacs's ship had left the dock shortly afterward.

Wyn placed the cloth into the bowl of water the assistance droid was holding.

“The patient's odds of survival is -"

“Never tell me the odds, droid.” The Commander snarled as he straightened his posture, stretching his back and shoulders.

The droid takes care of the bowl and returns, finding the Commander leaning his head against the handle of a cane. ‘Was he sleeping?  Praying?’  The droid tilts it's elongated Kaminoen like head, blinking it's large grey eyes, ‘Do clones pray?’, “Is there anything further, Commander?”

The old clone waves him off, “Erase the last two hours.  That is all.”

The droid returns to its place in the closet as Wyn stumbles along to his cluttered desk.  He sits heavily in his chair as he reviews his records, he then notices a com call from his friend, Commander Cody.

“Hey, Doc.  You ok?  You look like poodoo.”

Wyn laughed, “You should talk.”  He passes a hand over his stubbled face and overgrown goatee and mustache. “Retirement doesn’t agree with me.”, he sniffed.  “How are the headaches?”

“Manageable.”

“Please tell me you found something.”  Wyn cringed internally as he hoped his voice didn't betray how desperate he was for information about Onderon’s Marjadin communities.

Cody shook his head,”Nothing good, vod. Radiation storms are heavy in the area.  Nothing can live there.  I'm sorry.”

Wyn looks at the secured holo vid Cody sent him.  The entire Marjadin continent was obscured with heavy image interference.  Mount Urraynu was gone.  Just gone.  A crater fills its void.  The coast churns violently with dark rusty waters.  Before he could explore any further, the image vanished.

“Sorry, Wyn.  That's all I have.” Cody looked around himself before going on, “Listen.  The Empire has me babysit’in a new project.  I heard you mentioned a few times.”

“Yeah?  Why's that?”

“Don't know yet.  You may be recalled.”

“I'm too old, Cody.”  The Commander sighed sadly, rubbing an aching knee, “Too broken.  Take care, vod.”  Wyn ends the transmission.

The Medic Commander leans back in his chair, running his fingers around the colorful wood and stone beads of his Marj-Hala necklace as he stares at his continuous, 106 day transmission to Onderon, which remains unanswered.  

Rex and his General are walking down the corridors of the medical frigate The Mercy as they are escorted by Quilon, a short, Bothan Doctor.

“He has been in hibernation since we received him, General.  His injuries were few but severe.”

They entered another sterile room and walked among rows of bacta tanks containing injured clones.

They stop in front of one in particular.  “Here he is. Commander Wyn.”

Rex viewed his older vod with concern and awe.  Commander Wyn, is a famous Alpha, doctor specializing in field surgeries and strategy. Kix had said that he trained all the younger medics now in service saving millions of lives.   A tremendous feeling of guilt nagged at him as it was his battalion that was responsible for the friendly fire incident that destroyed the Commander's field hospital on Umbara.  

‘Sorry vod, we were misled. I was mislead.  Kriff, me. So many killed and injured because of my failure to act.   Kriff Krell, may he rot.’  Rex stood dutifully next to General Skywalker hands clasped behind his back.

“It's by the will of the Force that he survived.  We repaired his left shoulder, spine, and right rib cage.  The internal injuries -"

“When will he recover?” The General's demeanor was serious and cooler than Rex had ever known him.

“Not for several weeks, General.”

“I don't have several weeks. I have lost too much time already.” Skywalker walked around the bacta tank examining the clone within.  A large scar running down his spine and along several ribs on his right side.

“He is a clone Commander with specialized knowledge.  When will he be ready?”

“His internal organs are nearly healed, given a few days.  But the spine, and ribs -"

“Will he function?”  The General demanded.

“It depends on what you mean as to be functional.”  Said the Doctor, his long whiskers twitching with aggravation at the General's insistence, “If I remove him from the bacta now, he will need months of therapy.”  

“I need his mind, Doctor. Is he mentally sound?”

“He is mentally capable, and can breath on his own with …”

“I need him now, Doctor. Wake him.”

“But General, the pain -"

“Wake him.”  Skywalker scowled.

“Yes, General.”

 Commander Wyn awoke on a recovery bed and was instantly racked in pain. His lungs on fire, Wyn coughed and gasped.  A mask of vapor bacta was placed over his face and a shot of pain killer was quickly administered.  Wyn instantly relaxed helplessly immobile.

A droid performed the initial exam, then Dr. Quilon arrived, “I’m sorry, for pulling you out of the bacta prematurely, but the GAR needs you.”

The Commander closed his eyes tightly enduring a sharp pain down his back, every possible horror flashed through his mind. ‘Please, no prosthetics.’  Slowly he moved his limbs and over a period of time, he sat up on the bed with great difficulty.  He tried to take off the mask, but pain persisted so he left it on.  

The doctor checks the Commander's chart on the data pad, “You may need the mask occasionally, but you are healing.  Your spine, ribs, and left shoulder are still damaged, but bacta packs and therapy will heal you fully given time.

“I can't…operate… like this.”  He said hoarsely through his bacta mask, the Commander tried to lift his arms slowly and move his shaking fingers.

“Operating is not part of your mission this time, Commander.”

“Huh?  I've always…operated…in the field.”  Wyn leaned forward, holding his chest as he coughed, gasping in pain.

Cadet, CT 99 – 8427, Fathom, looked outside the shuttle's window to the bustling, massive planet of Coruscant.  To his knowledge, he is the only clone cadet to ever leave Kamino to study at Coruscant, let alone a Jedi temple. Every fiber of his being felt electric with curiosity and wonder as he unbuckled his seatbelt and walked about the shuttle. The constant, rapid movement of vehicles, and people of every species was slightly overwhelming to his young clone senses.  

General Shaak Ti continued to calmly read her data pad as her student silently moved from one vacant seat to another in excited anticipation. He had memorized many maps and buildings schematics at the encouragement of his General.  To see the city in real life solidified his training.

A sudden increase in altitude caused the young clone to slam onto the floor, but as quickly as he fell, he got up and sat in a seat, grinning at his General as he fastened his seatbelt until they landed at the Jedi Temple.

Fathom grabbed his backpack and followed his General off the landing platform where they were met by Jedi Master, Windu.

Shaak Ti respectfully bowed her head in greeting, “Master Windu.”

“Master, Shaak Ti, it's good that you have come at such short notice.  The battle is going poorly and your input on the situation is greatly appreciated.

Of course, anything I can do to help.”  General Shaak Ti turned toward the Cadet, “May I present my student, Fathom.  He will be studying here for a few days while we confer.”

Fathom looked up at the Jedi Master in quiet admiration.  From what he has read of the Jedi, Windu was one of the most powerful heads of the Jedi Council.

“Pleased to meet you sir.”  Fathom said, as he stood at attention, he bit the inside of his cheek as his greeting was a little more enthusiastic, and childish, than he had planned.

Windu looked down at the young clone and gave a slight nodded of acknowledgement. Fathom could not tell if it was a look of respect or indifference.

“A clone?  Clones are not force sensitive.”  Windu looked slightly puzzled, “If you wanted to teach, I would have assigned a suitable Padawan for you.”

“There is no need.” Shaak Ti responded as she placed her hands within the sleeves of her robe, “The Jedi need an advocate within the Trooper ranks.  Out of all the clones, I sense he will be a great asset with the moral issues we have between the troopers and their Jedi even before the unfortunate disaster at Umbra.”

“Hmmm.” Windu pondered, “A clone, Jedi, advocate.”  Windu turned toward Shaak Ti, as they communicate through the Force, ‘Are you sure that is necessary?  After all, they are created to fight.’

‘In most cases I would agree with you, however I sense the higher functioning clones are questioning the wisdom of their Jedi as they mature. Their experience and knowledge is invaluable and not easily replaced. It is my belief that Fathom can convince them that their cause is just.’

Windu tilts his head in a small nod, “You know the clones better than anyone.  If you feel if is necessary, I will back you.”  Windu glances at Fathom, “He is too young isn't he?”

“He is quite young, but he retains knowledge well.  His next growth cycle will begin soon.  I believe he will be ready for service within the year.”

Windu and Shaak Ti turned and walked toward the temple as Fathom followed from a respectable distance.

Commander Wyn sits at his usual table in a Kamanoen cafeteria near a window overlooking the landing bays. Taking a sip of tea, he stares at the ships leaving the atmosphere to illusive freedom.  

“You still have a great right hook.”

“Yeah.” The Commander muttered as he moved his bruised hand within a towel filled with crushed ice, “I'm not much for conversation right now.”

“That's alright.” Said the unwanted visitor as he helps himself to a seat.

‘Kriff, just leave me alone' Wyn frowns, “Listen…”  He looks at the intruder for the first time.  The visitor sitting next to him is a younger clone in his mid-thirties in appearance, but it was clear that the vod was very ill.  He was painfully thin, practically disappearing within his rain coat.  His head closely shorn yet patches of bare skin shown in several places.

“I'm sorry…”Wyn stared the vod trying to recognize him.  If it weren't for the jagged tattoo along his boney jawline, the Commander may not have recognized him at all.  “Jacs?”

A crooked smile with many missing teeth spread across the visitor’s pale face, “Hi, Commander.”

“Force, Jacs!”  Wyn gently embraced his trusty Sergeant, a valued Medic under his command who helped recover him from the rubble of a destroyed field hospital at Umbra during the Clone Wars.  “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I'd visit the home world.” Said the vod, “Came in time for the show.”

“Oh, that.”

“Hey, he deserved it. He shouldn't have touched you. That’s what he gets, tussling with an Alpha.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have done it.  Could have killed him.”

“Oh, he'll be alright, he had his bonnet on.  ‘Sides, these natural born Stormtroopers need to toughen up.”  

His voice started to fade and he took a sip of his water.  Noticing the concerned expression of his former Commander, he decided to answer the obvious question when his voice returned, “I was caught between blast doors during a radiation leak last year.  They say only a clone could live this long with the exposure I got.”

“Are you here for treatment?”

The vod shook his head, “Naw, too far gone for that.”  Looking out the window, “Where were you going?”

“Ryloth.”

Jacs smiled, “No, really.”

“Why are you here?”  The Commander asked trying to change the subject.

“I thought I'd stop for a visit and take some vaccines along my route to Alderaan.  That Takartus disease has been skip'in around the core planets and spreading.”  He shivers from a chill, and wraps his coat tighter around himself, “but I've been so ill lately, I began to think that I’ve come home to die.”  He took another sip of his water, “Then, I saw you at the landing docks.  I think we can help each other.”

“Yeah?”

Jacs pointed with a thin, shaking hand, “See that ship there?”

“It’s yours?”

Jacs chuckled, “Well, I didn't steal it. Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

“Alright, Sergeant. Come on.”

Jacs waited as his friend prepared his canes and began to stiffly walk.

“To have to use canes must be very frustrating for you.”

“Age catches up with all – “ Wyn winced and mentally cursed himself.

Jacs chuckled, giving his friend a feeble nudge, “That's one step in our development, I don't have to worry about.”  He slowed down his own steps to pace with the Commander. “I was newly batched when I saw you compete.  You ran like the wind.”  Jacs smiled as if discovering a long lost secret, “Is that how you got your name?”

Wyn smiled and nodded, “I also liked to win.”

“What was your record?”

The Commander paused a moment to shake out his bruised hand before moving on, “Fourty-two miles an hour without armor enhancements."

“Oh, yeah, every vod tried to break your record.  Never even came close.”

Wyn smirked and huffed, “I’m more like a silent fart, now.”

Jacs broke out with laughter, “You are the only Alpha who could laugh at himself.”  He coughs as he  holds onto Wyn as he recovers.

The old doctor supports his frail friend, “Easy there, don’t hurt yourself.”

“If I die laughing right now...I thank you…ahead of time.”  

Wyn flags down a passing tram, after a brief tour to view the new facilities, the driver takes them to Wyn's apartment.

“Wow, this is yours?” Said Jacs as he looked about the apartment.

“They let me use it. They say it once belonged to Jango.”

“Woah, this is kriff'in great! Why do you want to leave?”

Wyn placed his finger over his own lips to silence his friend, “Take a seat vod, relax.”

Jacs takes off his raincoat and sits on the couch as he notices Wyn tap a disk at his knee brace.

A small droid detaches itself, hovering toward the ceiling, and scans the entire apartment.  “All clear, Commander.” It said as it reattaches itself.

The ill vod jumps as he notices a strange creature silently take his rain coat, “Kriff! That's kark'in creepy.” Shivered Jacs as he stares at the assistance droid as it stations itself in a corner.

“Isn't it?”  Wyn smiles as he tosses his trooper helmet to the droid, and the droid catches it and puts it on backwards.

Jacs laughs, “That's even worse!” The droid goes to it's place in the closet as the vod suspiciously watched it, “Does it hear us?”

Wyn comes from the bedroom with a blanket, “No. It sees and hears what I want it to, which isn’t much.” He unfolds the blanket and covers his friend.

“Thank you, Sir.”  Jacs huddles within the warm fabric, “After the wars, I didn't want to be a medic anymore.  Got tired of the bodies, ya know? So I got onto transporting medical cargo, among other things.  I spent years learning about finance.  Force knows, the Kamanoens didn't bother to teach us about credits.”

Jacs's voice started to fade again, so Wyn brought him some water.  The vod continued, “After my accident, I continued to deliver supplies to…” He sadly shook his head and sighed, “I'm far too weak to go on alone, but as I said, we can help each other.”

Jacs licks his thin lips, a little reluctant to ask, “Captain Docer, said you had a stash…”

Wyn smiled as he retrieved a bottle and glasses from his desk, “I can't tell you how many times I had to find a new hiding place for this during the wars.”

He pours a glass for each of them.

“I just require a taste, Sir.”  Jacs accepted the whisky glass and took a small sip.  He closes his eyes and smiles, “Can't taste much anymore, but it still has bite.”

Wyn pushes the bottle toward his vod, “Help yourself.”

“Thank you, Sir.”  He raises his glass, “To the vods.”

After days of preparation, retired Commander Wyn entered the busy hanger bay to board a transport off Kamino.  He had hoped to discreetly board the transport to Ryloth and transfer to another ship for Kashyyyk before finding a ship for Onderon.

I’m sorry, Sir.  You are not on the passenger manifest.

There must be some mistake. Check the troop listing.  I have business at Ryloth.

“Is there a problem?” Said a Stormtrooper Sergeant.

“This clone says he's a passenger.”

“No clone has ever been a passenger on my ship.  You lost old man?”

“No.  I have my boarding pass.”

The Stormtrooper Sergeant looked at the pass and turned to the other.  “Clones are decommissioned freight.  He is on Kamino for a reason, and not to be transported anywhere without the orders.”

“Don't talk about me as if I weren't here.  I'm a man. A Veteran Trooper and I demand -"

“YOU are a Clone product. Property.” The Sergeant pauses looking at the observation deck above them, “You have not been released.  It is for your safety.”

Wyn followed the Sergeant's gaze, finding Nala Se standing at the deck window looking down at them, “Since when…SINCE WHEN ARE YOU CONCERNED WITH A CLONE'S SAFETY!”  The Kaminoan walked away from the window, “DON'T YOU-”

The Sergeant grasped Wyn's arm, and the Commander instinctively punched the Sergeant. “You're loosing it, clone.”  The Sergeant shook his head recovering from the blow, as two more Stormtroopers arrived.

“Commander!”  A female doctor hurries toward them, “There you are!”

“What?”

“You shouldn't be here.” She scolded as she stands between Wyn and the Sergeant, “I'm so sorry, Sergeant.  He’s a little disoriented…”

“The KRIFF I am – “ Wyn and Gida exchange stern stares.

“Did he hurt you?”

The Sergeant gave a dismissive huff, “No.  He insists on boarding this ship.  He is not released.”

“I know, he just got away from me.  Clones can still be stealthy even at his age and condition.”

“Gida…”

“Wyn, PLEASE!”  Gida urgently whispered, placing a hand at his shoulder. The Commander pulled away angrily, and stepped back.

“Thank you for finding him. I'll send him in for evaluation.”

“See that you do.  Can’t have him wandering around here being a nuisance.”  The Sergeant pointed at the old Commander, “I'm giving you a break, clone.  Go with your handler, or I'll have you arrested.”

Wyn trudged his way out of the hanger bay, angrily silent, as Gida walked along side him.

“What has gotten into you? Did you think you could just leave Kamino so easily?”

“I was just at Ryloth last year.  I never had any problems.”

“That was with Nala Se's release.”

“Kriff, Gida.”  Wyn stood heavily with his canes wincing from the pain in his knees.

“Just how far do you expect to get on those knees of yours, huh?”

“I can get treatment at Onderon.  I'm a citizen…”

“Only on Onderon. Here you are Kamanoen -"

“Don't you think I know that!”  The Commander stumbles along a few more steps, then stands painfully.

Gida flags down a maintenance cart, “Wyn, please.  Go home.”

“This isn't my home.”

“The Majadin are gone, Wyn.”

Wyn staired at her angrily, “How do you know?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”, Doctor Gida Fam crossed her arms as she watched her mentor toss a duffle bag on the couch before disappearing into the bedroom.

“There's no reason for me to stay.”  The retired Medic Commander responded grimly as he brought out his Clone Trooper uniform and started to inspect, and discard a few pieces.

“Where will you go?”

“Anywhere they will let me work.  There are worlds out there for me to be of use.”

“You're retired.”

Taking one look at the small thigh guards, and crotch piece, he shakes his head and tosses it aside, “Gida, I'm only forty-five.”

“Your body is seventy-five. You're mind-"

The Commander looks up at her with steely golden brown eyes, “What are you saying?  I'm senile?”

“No.”

“Unable to care for myself?”

“Of course not -”

“Listen, I accept that I have limitations, but Kamino is a prison for me now.  Has been for years.  Understand?”  

“Wyn, I'm sorry.”

Her friend sighed as he adjusted the straps on the breastplate, “You're just being observant. Can't fault you for that.”  

“Seriously?  You're going to wear that?”

“Sure.  Why not?”

“Wyn, it's not going to fit.”

The Commander smirked before he took a breath, sucked in his gut, and put on his upper armor.

“Oh…ugh… no.” He squirmed uncomfortably within the armor, “This... isn't going to work.”

Gida tried not to snicker while she watched her friend turn several shades of red as he tried unsuccessfully to unfasten the tight torso plate.

“For cry’ in out loud! Ugh…Help me…”

Gida tried to remove the torso plate, but the Commander moved before she could grasp it, “Hold still.”

“Kriff'in…”  He leaned against his desk pulling at one side of the plate while Gida worked at the other.

“Language, Commander…”

“Hurry up!” he pants, “I'm go‘in ta pass out!”

The torso plate pops open, hanging loosely at one side as the Commanders belly filled the open space, “Whoo!  That was close.”  The Commander laughed as he took a few relieved breaths, scratching his belly.  

“I thought I'd have to get maintenance to cut you out.” She laughed, patting his shoulder.

“Would have taken too long.” Wyn chuckled, wiping nervous sweat from his brow, “Alpha Phase armor is tough.”  He grinned tapping the breastplate, “This piece is coming with me.”  He unhooks the torso plate and discards it.

“Wait…you were Alpha class?”

“Yeah.”  Wyn noticed his friend's confusion,”I was an aberration. A little too independent minded. I wanted to preserve life more than take it, but I always did my duty.”  The Commander stood there for a split second remembering his early years, “Always.” He whispered.  With a sniff he brought himself to the present.  “They found that it would be beneficial to have a Medic within the Alpha Class to keep us in the field longer. When the Alpha's were phased out, I was trained for command of the 367th Medic battalion to disperse Specialized Medics and Doctors throughout the GAR.”

Wyn looked at his desk holo calendar.  Forty-seven days since the explosion at Onderon.

“They may be gone, Wyn -"

“Don't say that!”  The Commander steps aside, opening his duffle bag, “We don't know that.  Not for sure.”

“They won't allow transport -”

After a devastating explosion on Onderon, communication was cut off from the planet.  However, out of hope or morbid desperation, retired clone Medic Commander Wyn sent a constant transmission to the planet in hopes to get a response.  On the surface of his cluttered desk, a holo date hovered at the right corner.  Day 27 and no response of any kind.  

‘Life is pain, suffering is optional.”  Easy to say, not so easy to overcome.  Wyn had been working himself out of a severe depression by exercising and purifying his body to prepare for his last mission in life.

No one was going to stop him from finding out what happened to his adopted Marjadin community. Not even an old, damaged body.

Commander Wyn grunted his way through several chin-ups from a secured bar to the ceiling of his Kaminoan apartment.  “Sixty-eight…sixty-niiine…Sev-Sev-….Auuugh. He hung there a moment, his arms and core burning from exertion, taking several heavy breaths he struggles through one last chin-up.  ”Ssseventy!”

Wyn hung there a moment panting, not wanting to let go too soon.  Gently, he lowered himself and groaned as he put his weight on his damaged knees.

The closet door opens and the assistance droid tentatively sticks its head out looking over the filthy and disorganized apartment as its master carefully stumbles to the couch, sitting heavily as he wipes his face and neck with a towel. Grumbling to himself, he tosses the towel aside as he leans over a coffee table full of parts and rummages through a near by box.

Wyn picks up a round disk studying its dimensions and holds it near the joint of his knee brace.  He then places the disk on the table and unstraps both his knee braces, placing them there as well.  The old Commander took his canes and struggled to stand.

“Do you need assistance, Master?”

“No! Get in the…” Wyn stood painfully and looking about his apartment, he sighed in tired frustration.

“Droid, clean this place up.”

“Yes, Master!”  Said the droid as it eagerly left the closet.

“Don't call me that!”

“Yes, Owner.”

“That neither.  Keep your trap shut and clean the place.”

“Trap?  I have no trap, Own…” noticing the Commander's cross expression the droid had shut down it's vocals until spoken to.

“Don't touch the desks, and send the office boxes there to Doctor Gida Fam.  She can have them.  Toss the rest.”

“Toss them where, Sir?”

“Kriff droid!”  Wyn passes his hand over his face, “Throw it away!”

The droid bowed and began its task as Wyn enters the refresher.

After a much needed shower, Wyn sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror. “Kriff'in feel as old as I look.” His silver hair had taken over his dark black long ago.  Salt and pepper hair graced his chest and belly. Battle scars still shown brightly on the skin of his chest, legs, left shoulder, right side, and down his spine.

‘Life is pain, suffering is optional.’  Wyn had been saying that mantra to himself more and more lately.  

Taking a razor he began to shave, carefully trimming his mustache and goatee.

Thinking of his deceased bride and loved ones, he sniffed, “Oh, Elena.  I have these new found years, and for what.”  He sat on the bench retrieving a syringe, he injected both knees and wrapping his left knee with a bacta bandage, ‘I stayed in the GAR to protect you. I stayed at Kamino to find the end of age acceleration…’  “FOR WHAT!” Wyn slams a fist on the sink counter making a loud noise.

“Master? Sir?”

“KARK OFF, DROID!” The Commander barked as he rubbed his pained right knee.

Running his hand through his hair, ‘It’s time.’ He stood and retrieved a small vile from a hidden compartment in the medicine cabinet.  Inside was a tiny info chip imbedded into a screw similar to the one he had implanted into his friend Commander Cody the year before.  Taking another syringe, Wyn sat back down and slid the needle into the side of his leg near the knee.  He pressed a button on the device which quickly drilled the tiny chip into the tibia just below his shortened patellar tendon.  He then wrapped his knee with the bacta bandage and finished dressing.

Exiting the refresher, his apartment was clean and properly organized.  “Well, I'll be Kriffed.”  Wyn walked into the bedroom and opened the closet revealing his clone trooper uniform still marred and scored from several Clone War battles.  He took his helmet and gauntlets and closed the closet.  As he left the room, he noticed that a small, wooden box on his dresser was missing.

“Droid!”

“Yes, Sir.”

“There was a Marjadin wood box here.  Where is it?”

“Tossed, Sir.”

“WHAT?”

“It was tossed, Sir.” The droid tilts its head, grey eyes blinking, “Perhaps I can arrange for a hearing test -“The droid was silenced by a powerful grip at its slender throat.

“YOU, listen carefully.” The Commander snarls, as he stood nose to nose to the droid, “I don't care how long it takes you, I don't care if you return.  Find it.”

“It may be in the compactor…”

“Find it!”

“Yes, Sir.” The droid hurriedly leaves the apartment.  Wyn places a hand on the spot where the box lay for many years, “Kark’in droids.”  He mumbles before he enters the living room.

Wyn sits in the couch and works on the knee braces he had been modifying.  After hours, of trial and error Wyn removed his helmet and blew on the steaming metal he had been working on.  Turning on the holo feed he searched for any word from the Marjadin region of Onderon.  Silence, again, was the only response. Leaning back into the couch cushions he took a sip of high test caf as he waited for the metal to cool.  

The doorbell rang and the droid returned, filthy and severely dented, but in its arms was the lost Marjadin box. The Commander tried to stand, but found it hard to rise, “Aww, kriff.  Come here.”

“I had a time getting it from the compactor beast.”  The droid handed the box to the Commander who ripped it out of its hands, “Who knew that wood was its favorite treat.”

Wyn examined the box as he ran his fingers across the intricately carved design, lingering on the single word, Nusuakoa.  “You’re lucky it's not damaged.  Go to maintenance and get cleaned up.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Once the droid left, Wyn carefully opens the box.  Inside is a Marjadin necklace which he puts on.   Two small holo disks were hidden in the false bottom.  The Commander smiles as he views the holo vids and pictures of his brothers and their shenanigans.  He put that disk inside his left gauntlet.  

The next disk, with a shell etched on the surface, showed images of the Marjadin community who adopted him.

The images stop and a pass code is requested.  Wyn slides his thumb across the edge of the disk, leaving a small skin cell sample, then enters a long numerical passcode.

Elena, his Marjadin, Onderonian, bride appears smiling sweetly, her captivating blue-grey eyes shown brightly against her dark ebony completion.  She stands facing him dressed in a traditional, brightly colored silk robe accented with ribbons of stones and shells.

“Wyn, love. I hope this message finds you well. I have been missing your com calls, but I understand that you must be dark for a mission.”  She pauses a moment as she pulls at the long sleeves of her robe, “I wanted to wait until you returned to tell you, but you’ve been gone for so long… Remember when you told me we can not have children?”

Elena smiles as she smooths her hands over the brightly colored robe around her belly which bowed outward prominently as she showed her profile.  “Yes, love, it's yours.” She parts the robe exposing her large, pregnant belly, The Force has surely blessed us.”  She happily turns from side to side in a gentle dancing motion showing off her expanded girth.  

The Commander chuckles as he watches her. Soon his vision is blurred by tears, and his chuckles turned to sad breaths.  He sighs and wipes his eyes as the image continues to dance.  

“You have only been gone for five months, but our little tempest is growing so fast!”  She gently rubs her belly, “If we are unable to talk before the birth, I think I'll name him Nusuakoa.  It means tempest.  A fitting name, believe me.” She laughs lifting her belly slightly, “Ohh, he’s so heavy!  Healers say I am on my seventh month already.”  Elena stops her dance and huffs a couple of breaths as she rubs the side of her belly, “Nusuakoa… your son...is anxious to meet his father.” She chuckles as she pulls the robe around herself, “Stay safe, and come home soon love.  I miss you.”

The old Commander looks at the paused image for a moment, before turning it off. ‘Ah, Darling.’ He holds the disk a moment running his thumb over its etched surface. He kisses it and puts it in his right gauntlet.

Touching the metal on his modified braces, and finding it cool to the touch, he put them on.  On the right side, he flips a tiny switch and the braces obeyed his intended movement.  The Commander stood effortlessly except for enduring the usual pain, but movement was much smoother and the canes were not needed.

“Yes!  It works! But, still hurts like a kark'in…”  He flips the switch again and the braces returned to normal functionality.  He slowly sits on the couch, “Jaket.”

“Yes, Commander?”  Came a familiar voice from the disk at the right knee joint.

“Activate.”

The blue light on the disk flashes briefly and the brace behaves without flipping the switch.

“Excellent!” Wyn was still in pain, but his movement was a bit more fluid as he slowly moved about without his canes.

The doorbell rings and the droid returns.  

Over several days of studying under General Shaak Ti, Cadet 8427 had improved in his regular trooper training, and had even taught his new found techniques to some of his willing batchmates, much to their Trainer’s dismay.  However, Bric had to admit, it did improve their overall scores considerably.

General Shaak Ti and the Cadet had been training with staff training and hand to hand combat that the normal training curriculum did not provide.

“General?” the cadet pants as he pushes another attack back and attempts to trip his opponent.

“Yes?” The Togruta easily evaded the tactic and countered.

“What is the Force?” The cadet blocked her strike and jumped back.

The General smiles slightly recognizing his subtle way to ask of a break.  She holds up her staff and bows.  To his relief, the cadet does the same.  Shaak Ti sets her staff on its stand, as the Cadet does the same. She then sits on the ground and waits for her student to hydrate himself, she then motions to the Cadet. The Trooper Cadet wipes his face with a towel and sits in front of her squirming with excitement.

“The Force, is an energy field created by all living things.”

“I am creating the Force?”

“Yes, all living things. It binds us all together, and when we die, we loose our conscious self and become one with the Cosmic Force.”

“Then we all join the Force when we die?  Even clones?”

“You're a living being aren't you?”

The cadet shivers, “I'm don't think I like the idea of losing one’s self.”  The Cadet notices his teacher entering into a meditative state. He takes a few cleansing breaths and does the same.

Meditation was always a challenge for the Cadet.  His mind always wondering, questioning.  He opens an eye, looking at his teacher.

“General?”

“Yes?”

“Am I force sensitive?” He asks quietly.

“What makes you think that?” The General opens her eyes looking at her student.  She stands, stretching into a slow motion unarmed combat exercise.  The cadet does the same.

The young cadet shrugs, “Just wonder ‘in.” He follows her fluid motions and stops when she does.  

“All living things have some connection to the Force, but no young one, you are not Force sensitive.”

The cadet bites his lip, and stops his exercise to face her, “Then…why are you training me?”

The General stops and slides her hands within the arms of her robe, “You still want to learn don't you?”

“Yes!  Of course, it's just…”

“Cadet, you have a curiosity about the Jedi and the Force that no other clone has exhibited.  You understand what these teachings mean and you can relay knowledge to others.  Not even Commander Wyn, talented as he is, never shown such an interest.  I sense a great change coming, and I believe you may be of help. In fact, I have a name for you to consider, if you would like.”

“Yes, please!”

“What do you think about Fathom?”

“Fathom?  Fathom…yes, I like it.” He gives her a tight hug, but stands at attention quickly, blushing at his lapse of protocol, he clears his throat, “Thank you for giving me my name.”

The general smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I am going to Coruscant to the Jedi Temple.  I have arranged for you to come with me. Pack some things.”

‘You're fall’in apart old man.’ Doctor Wyn grimaced as he took off his reinforced knee braces and set them on the bench beside him.  One of them fell on the floor before he could catch it, “Ahh, kriff… Later.”  From his gym bag he retrieved a syringe and injected both knees before sliding in a tank to tread in the warm liquid bacta.  ‘Be grateful that you still have your legs.’  Wyn had tried everything short of performing surgery on himself to relieve the pain in his worn out knees.  Due to his limitations slowing him down, he had gained a few pounds, so he had taken up swimming and adjusted his diet accordingly.  

Years ago, he had sworn he would never let a Kamanoen treat him again.  He had been trying to get treatment off Kamino while he had been away on assignments, but treatment was withheld. ‘Such a simple procedure, why are they punishing me like this?’  

After exiting the tank, he wrapped his knees in bacta bandages before putting on his heavy braces. By this time, the therapy gym was to open and he wanted to leave before anyone saw him.  He took up his canes and walked slowly down the long corridor toward the cafeteria.  He felt a great deal better even though he knew it was a temporary reprieve.

“Hey, Wyn.  Doctor Wyn!”  Doctor Gida Sorel, a female colleague jogged toward him, “Where have you been?”

“The library.”  Wyn made a point to vary his visits to the rehab unit.  He didn't want to have anyone know how often he went there, and actually visiting other locations would make it difficult for anyone to find out about his activities if he should be put under interrogation.

“I've been looking for you. I think I have a treatment for the Crather Takartus disease.”

“Wonderful!”  

“I need your opinion. It's just a treatment.  Maybe you can see something I missed?”

“Of course, I'm happy to help, but…” Wyn slowed his gate, leaning heavily on his canes.

“What's wrong?  Are you ill?”

Wyn smiled sadly, “No, Gida.  Just some old injuries catching up with me.”  He sighs in frustration, “I've been retired, and bared from doing research.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Gida placed a hand on her mentor's arm, “Why?”

The old doctor lifted a cane and placed it back on the ground to support himself, “Kaminoens don't value clones in decline.”

“That's not right!  You’re the most cognitive clone of your…maturity.”

Wyn laughed and patted her hand. “It's just the way of things.”

“It’s their way of doing things, not mine, or yours.  You don't have to go to the lab.  I'll send you the data.  Tell me what you think.”

“I don't want to jeopardize your research.   If they find out I'm involved, it will void any advancement that you have made.”

“Wyn, I’m not Kaminoen. I am a citizen of the Empire.  They can't stop me from research, nor can they tell me with whom I can consult with.”

“Gida, I'll consult, but don't endanger your findings by telling them I'm involved.  It will not end well.”

“Alright, I’ll send you the data tonight.”

Over days of collaborative research, Doctors Wyn and Fam have found a cure for the dreaded flu like disease.

“This will save thousands of lives...We did it!”  Doctor Fam hugged her research colleague.  “We can present this to the Empire medical council.”

“Gida, you go…”

“We'll share the credit! I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Gida.  You forget, I'm not involved.  Go.  Save Coruscant.”

Once Gida left, Wyn checked the time and sat as his desk, preparing for his monthly holo call. Years ago, Commander Cody helped him to set up a diplomatic channel to Onderon.  Wyn gave the reasoning that being a citizen of the Majardin tribes helped with diplomatic efforts on the planet, but since the rise of the Empire, diplomatic communications were not of value, but Wyn continued with communication with his adopted community to help them with dealing with the Empire, but as always he had an alterior motive.  Piggybacking on the signal to his Majardin counterpart, he arranged to have a hidden monthly transmission to a most precious individual in his life keeping him sane.

Elena, his beautiful Onderian bride, appeared above his desk holding a small child.  The child holds an old, stuffed, clone trooper toy decorated with Wyn’s old medic corp colors.

“There he is!” Elena points, as the small child squeales happily reaching for Wyn’s holo image.

“Hey, baby girl!” Wyn smiles, ‘Force, she's growing so fast.’

The child smiles impishly and hugs the toy. Wyn laughs and crosses his arms across his chest, “Oh, Mida!  I feel you're hugs all the way over here!”

After playing a moment of holo hugs, Elena set the child to play as they talked.

“Force, Elena…”

“Wyn, what's wrong? Are you ill?”

Wyn scowls briefly, “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” he groused, “I'm fine.”

“It's just…you look exhausted, Love.”

“Just tying up some loose ends -"

“Sorry, Love.  The coms – Wyn, don’t co - e – ad – re -at - Wyn?”

“Elena?  You're breaking up.”  The last part of the transmission was the audio of a loud rumbling and the baby screaming.

Wyn stood trying to improve his transmission, “Elena!”  He sits heavily in his chair as he looks at a news feed of a failed Imperial weapon experiment on Onderon, which was near his family's location.  “Elena, wha…”  He transferred to his diplomatic link trying to raise his Onderon counterpart. “Yaosha, what’s happening over there?  I can’t raise your signal…” static was his only response.  He tuned into the Imperial news feed and sees a devastated Majadin village where he and his med corp, had constructed a hospital and orphanage during the Clone Wars.

“Jaket, increase the signal.”

The droid calmly responds, “Unable to comply"

“Why not?  Increase the-"

“Commander Wyn is retired from service.”

“Damn it, Jaket” the old doctor snarled, “Jaket, command overide. Commander Wyn, CC-736, Once a clone trooper, always a clone trooper.”

“Access granted.  Welcome Commander Wyn, it has been a while.”

 Doctor, Gida Sorel, dutifully went through the proper channels to release her findings, it wasn’t long before she was summoned to a meeting with Nala Se.

“Welcome, Doctor.  I must congratulate you for your findings on the Crather Takartus disease.  It is quite an achievement.”

“Thank you.  I am eager to transmit my notes to the Empire Medical Counsel and eradicate the disease as soon as possible.”

“I have reviewed your information.  It has been decided to withhold this cure for the time being.”

“What?  Why?”

“We have to recoup our expenses in this discovery.  You have used Kamanoen labs and expertise to find this ‘cure'.  It is Kamanoen property. You will present a treatment to the Empire Medical Counsel.  This will extend your patient's lives so long as they can afford the treatments.”

“But we have a cure!”

“Your business acumen is lacking doctor.  Patients will last longer and keep purchasing treatments to ease their suffering.  It is more lucrative than a cure.”

“Financially lucrative for you, but living beings continue to suffer.”

“Quite correct doctor. Labs, research, and staff require credits.  You have allowed us to find a new revenue stream and in exchange, this treatment helps your patients on Coruscant.”

Dejected, Gida returns to visit her clone colleague.  She stands briefly at the door of his apartment waiting for the door to open. She could hear shuffling steps and a clanging of glass before the door opens.

“Hello Gida.”  The old doctor smiles broadly, swaying slightly, then leaning against the door frame, “What's the word?  Ready to celebrate?  Come on in.” he waves her inside, “Come.”  Wyn stumbles almost falling, as Gida struggles to steady him.

“Wyn, you're drunk.”

“Ahhh...” Her colleague raps his arm around her shoulders, “Shhh-shhh.”  His breath so toxic, she nearly chokes.  Wyn looks suspiciously about the apartment, “They're always listening.”

“Eww, Wyn.”  She complains as her colleague chuckles, ushering her into his living quarters.  She barely makes it to the couch before they fall onto it.

“What are you doing? You're ruining yourself.”

“Augh, jus' a lil'…” Wyn picks up a glass of liquor motioning about his sparsely decorated apartment with boxes of a life's time of work stacked about, “Think'in of, burn'in it…” he grumbles as he leans forward rubbing a knee, “What did they say?”

“They’re only releasing the treatment data, not the cure.”

“Figures.” Wyn huffed taking a sip from his drink, and rubbing a knee.

“You knew this would happen?”

“I sssush-pected.” He slurred, sleepily rubbing his eyes, “There's a-always an a-angle with them.”

“The war is long over. Why stay here?”

“My vods…my work…thought we could do some good at least.”

“At least?”

“Small victories, Gida. Small vic…”  Wyn leans forward, Gida was concerned that he was to be sick, “Conflicts…war…it never ends.” He mumbles almost incoherently.

Taking a deep breath, Wyn sits up, “It's ta’ work or ... Now that work is taken from me…and f-fam …they're all GONE!” Wyn smashes his glass against the far side of the wall.

A droid steps from a closet.

“Did I call you?”  Wyn snapped angrily.

The droid stepped back into the closet.

“Wyn…”

‘More time…outstanding!’ Doctor Wyn tried to relax while treading water in the rehab swimming pool in an effort to exercise and relieve stress on his damaged knees.  It had been over a year since he discovered the answer to his vods aging acceleration. Checking his own blood, the degradation of his DNA telomeres has stopped and continued to stabilize.  Commander Cody sent samples of his own, and the results are promising. His only concern now is to keep this discovery a secret until he can safely distribute the serum to those who want it.  To release this information prematurely is an automatic death sentence.

After his work out, he still resorted to bacta knee wraps and occasionally using a cane about his apartment and office.

He had walked with a little more difficulty recently.  As he walked toward his apartment his knees gave out fortunately he was next to the wall and he caught himself.  “Damn.” A couple of cadets happened to be around him and helped him home.

The next day, Wyn resigned that he wear more sturdy braces and using two canes.

He walks to his office finding it being cleaned out.

“What is this?”

“You are retired doctor.” Said a Kaminoan.

“I'm not slated for five years.”

“Nala Se thinks differently.”

“There's nothing wrong with me...”

The Kaminoan merely blinked at him directing cadets to remove boxes from the office.  Fuming, Wyn continues to the offices of Nala Se.

Wyn entered the reception office of Nala Se.  The droid attempts to stop him, but his commotion draws Nala Se out of her office.

“Doctor Wyn.” Her voice as cool as ever.

“Nala Se, there must be some mistake.  I'm not slated for retirement for five years.”

“I have decided to accelerate your date.  You are in decline. “

“The hell I am…”

“Careful doctor, the Jango is coming out of you.”

The doctor frowned, his voice lowering, “There is nothing wrong with me.”

Nala Se looked at his braces and canes.

“I am in this condition because of years of running and fighting to save lives.  I'm a doctor, not an athlete…not anymore...but I can still work.”

“Your condition can be repaired doctor.”

“Not by you.”

“You are Kaminoan property doctor.  Your upkeep is our responsibility.”

‘Apparently not doing a good job.’  Wyn struggled to keep from snapping with his true thoughts about the matter.

Calmly he countered, “I have been requesting replacements for years.”

“You could have had those years ago.  If you would submit to our treatments.”  The Kaminoan stated coolly, “If it weren't for the binding agreement with Lama Se and General Shakti, you would have been repaired by us long ago.”

‘Also terminated years ago.’ Wyn thought, “So you are punishing me with non- treatment if I don’t allow you to operate on me? You know I don’t trust your treatment.  Not since the Order.”

“It was part of your design.”

“I hate what that chip made us do.”

“You failed that order doctor.  Your compassion and loyalties have kept you from completing the Order.”

“I was a Commander.  A surgeon under the command of General Luminara Unduli.

“You tried to save her.”

“Of course.  Unlike yourself, I believe life is sacred and must be protected.”  

“Even your enemies?”

“Unless I have to defend myself or others, yes.”

“You were, and are a clone trooper. You should have been decommissioned then, but you did save thousands of lives, even my own. It is out of respect that I have allowed you…”

“Allowed me?”

“Yes, CT-736.  It is out of respect that you have not been decommissioned long ago.  Your body is now failing.”

Wyn frowned and defiantly stared at the Kaminoan before lowering his gaze. He had not been called by his designation in years.

“I have years ahead of me. There is nothing wrong with my mind. Nothing wrong with my hands.  I can still work.”

“You have already outlived your batchmates CT-736.  You will decline more quickly after your fortieth year.”

“That's four years away.”

“You are retired now CT-736 enjoy the time you have left.  You are assigned an assistance droid-“

“I don’t need it.”

“Do not test me, CT-736.” Nala Se frowned towering over him, “You may keep your apartment and teach as you wish, but research and treating patients is out of the question.”

“You have to prioritize, Shiny.  You can't save everyone.”  The Surgeon sadly repeated the exact phrase that his mentor told him during his young medic years.

Ever since he landed on Umbara, Commander Wyn was elbow deep in blood with no end is sight.  Droids had powered down to recharge, leaving a skeleton crew to take over all hospital functions.

A near by blast shook the building, but Wyn was unfazed as he concentrated on saving yet another patient.

“What’s happening with that shield generator?” Wyn said grumpily.

“Still being repaired, Sir. It took a direct hit.” Cracked a young medic trainee's voice as he picked himself off the floor.

“Don’t they know we're a hospital here?”  Said a Captain as he closed up his patient, and prepared for the next as medics lay another patient on his table and started to cut off his blacks.

Once he stopped a bleeder, Wyn stepped back as another mangled trooper was placed in front of him being prepped.  He looked up toward the ceiling at a holo projection that he could see through his visor. Moving his jaw just so, he could zoom in and out and turn the image by an attached chin strap.  “Jaket…connect to Captain Hartey.”

“Connected.” Came a droid's voice in response.

“Captain, I am sending ten medics west of your position.  Expect them in twenty minutes.”  Wyn removes his gloves and sterilizes his hands before gloving up again as medic trainees’ change out used surgical tools for clean.

“Commander, thank the force. The Umbrian’s are releasing pillar tanks.  It's a meat grinder sir.”

“Do the best you can Captain.  That’s all we can do.”

The droid's calm voice chimes in.  “Incoming transmission…platoon leader Waxer.”

“Commander, we're being over run here. I need medic transports thirty kliks east of my location. I also suggest that you move the field hospital, Sir.”  Waxer pauses a moment to fire his weapon, “General Krell says that Umbaran's have stolen trooper armor and are advancing to my location. I'll hold them as long as I can.”

Wyn scowls looking at his current patient, thinking of the best way to proceed.  “Krell?  What's he doing here?”

“General Skywalker was sent on another assignment Sir.”

Wyn quietly grumbles to himself.  He had the unfortunate experience of serving under this General before and he knows that trooper casualties will only rise.

“You have your transports, Platoon Leader.. Commander Wyn, out. Retractor.” Wyn ordered.  The young trainee looked at him blankly, barking at the Shiny would do no good so he snaps his fingers once pointing at the retractor on the table.  The Trainee takes the item and firmly places it in the Surgeons hand.

Wyn begins to operate, blood splattering across his visor.  “Get me Lieutenant Ahiles.”

“He's dead, Sir.”

“Lieutenant Patora.”

“You're operating on him, Sir.”

“Kriff.  Jaket…Get me the current command roster.”

Wyn compresses the wound as he looks up looking through his blood splattered visor he scrolls through the list.

“Jaket...connect me with Sergeant Baz.

“Connected.”

“Sergeant Baz.  Call up the pilots and load the transports with the wounded.  We're moving to a secondary location.”

“Sir?”

“Coordinates are sent to you now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Grab you're weapons boys, we're wrapping it up.”  The surgeons finish their current patient and helps the medics move them out of the building. Wyn packs his patient's wounds for transport as a medic trainee bursts the room, in a panic, “Umbaran craft and ground troops are coming our way!  They have our uniforms!”

Cadet 99-8427 had spent the day in the library studying for his first aid, and tactical classes.  He had also found a bit of “light” reading about the Jedi.  He continued to walk toward his dorm, taking the long way around to avoid any confrontation with Mouth, a troublesome batchmate.  He continued to read the articles he collected about the Jedi, not thinking that he found himself in the far side of the Clone living quarters near the Kaminoan work stations.

“Are you lost, Cadet?” 8427 looked into the gigantic grey eyes of a young Kaminoan.

“No, Sir.  Just got preoccupied is all.”

“Preoccupied?”  The Kaminoan blinked, “Too preoccupied to realize where you are going?  Not very focused for a clone.  What is your designation?”

“Seether Lan, don’t torture the Cadet.”  A Clone Doctor interrupted, “He's here for an appointment with the General.”

“Yes, Doctor Wyn.”  The Kaminoan turned gracefully and glided toward the near by lab.

The Cadet feels a hand on his shoulder, looking up he sees the well-known clone Doctor Wyn, one of the legendary defenders of Kamino.  “Stay sharp, Cadet. Don’t need to bring any unwanted attention to yourself.”

The doctor, now in his late forties, was a hair taller than the other adult clones, still young looking except for a few streaks of silver hair at his temples, and gracing the chin of his closely trimmed goatee.  The Cadet noticed that the doctor limped slightly as they walked toward the botanical gardens.

“Are you hurt, Sir?”

“Still in recovery.” The Doctor winced slightly, “The last battle was…” He looked into the concerned eyes of his young charge and managed a sad smile, “Here we are.”

The door opens into the beautiful gardens containing every known healing plant in the galaxy.  

General Shaak Ti turned toward them as they entered.  “Doctor, thank you for bringing him.”

“Not a problem, General. He was wandering while reading.” The doctor gave the Cadet a gentle shake, “Gotta learn to multitask, kid.”

“Doctor, I have a new balm for you.  I believe it will help.”  She holds out a small tin for him which he accepts.

“Thank you, General. See you around, Cadet.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Cadet slowly turns, looking up at the General.

“I know you have many questions, Cadet, but first thing's first.”  She walks toward the clearing of flowering trees and sits on the ground. She gestured for him sit next to her. Cadet 8427 sits next to her, placing his data pads next to him, folding his legs under him, following her lead.

“You are unsettled.”

“Unsettled…Mam?  I don't know how else to be.”

“This is your first lesson. Meditation clears the mind, calms the senses.  It prepares you for deeper understanding, and helps with stress.”

The cadet squirms trying to sit up straight.

“Take a deep breath.”

The Cadet takes a breath and lets it out quickly.

“Take a deep breath and hold it.”

The Cadet quickly takes in a deep breath and holds it.

“This is also a technique for tactical breathing.  It will help you with marksmanship.  Breath out slowly.”

The Cadet breaths out quickly, gasping for another breath.

“Again.”  Said the General as she slightly exaggerated her own breath to show him, “Inhale…hold…exhale.”

The Cadet copies her.

She closes her eyes, “Again.”  She senses that he is catching on, gaining calm.

The cadet opens an eye looking at her, “General?”

“Yes?”

“How do you meditate without going to sleep?” he askes stifling a yawn.

Days have gone by and cadet, CT-99-8427, was beginning to wonder if he was remembered at all.  He continued with his training, with the exception of a few honest missteps which was quickly noticed by his older batchmates. After a grueling work out of running and obstacles along a large track, the cadets were waiting for their trainer to return.

“Hey, 99-8427, you hear from the General yet?”  Teased a rowdy batchmate as he slugged 8427 in the arm, “You're name should be Klutzy. Always tripping over stuff, making mistakes.”  tripping the smaller 8427, “Oops, Klutz…”

“Stop calling me that.” The smaller cadet snarled, fists clenched.

“Oh, I know…how about Useless.  As in, as Useless as ol' 99 over there.”  The Cadet's tormentor smirked jabbing his thumb toward the deformed clone janitor as he picked up towels left behind by the boys.

“Knock it off, Mouth.” Said another cadet as he pushed the other aside, “You were small once.”

Mouth laughed and jogged to meet up with the others, “Later, Smalls.”

“I don't need you to stand up for me, Paythor!”  99-8427 pushed the larger cadet angrily.

His batchmate chuckled and ruffled the smaller cadet’s hair, “You know Mouth.  He's an ass.” Placing a hand on 8427’s shoulder, “I can't believe you had the guts to talk to the General.  She's a legend.”

“Paythor!” shouted the trainer from across the yard, “Get over here!”

99-8427 started to follow, “Not you.”  The trainer waved, “Clean up.  You're done for today.”

“But -"

“What!” growled the trainer, “I know I don't have to repeat myself.”

99-8427 stood in silent attention as the trainer and the other boys left.  Filling up with pent up rage, 99-8427 ran several laps around the track before slowing breathless at his starting point.  Adult clones were filtering in for their workouts, as the cadet walked to the tracks edge.  Ol' 99 continued with his mundane duty, sweeping the floor.

“H - Had a bad day?”  Ninety-nine asked quietly.

“Saw that huh.”  Said 8427 as he kicked a trash can tipping it over scattering garbage, “Sorry.”

“It's alright.”

“No…no it's not.” The Cadet picked up his mess, “I’m so angry. All the time.”

“I wouldn't say that.” Ninety-nine smiled, his best crooked smile, “Frustrated, most definitely.”

“I hate that I'm so clumsy. I'm deficient.”

“No -"

“I'm going to be reprogrammed.”

“No, cadet.  You are not.   Don't be so hard on yourself.  You're just young is all.”

The cadet huffed, “I'm an idiot.”

“You know that is not true.”

“But…” the cadet sighed, “I don't measure up.”

Remembering who he was talking to, 8427 sat defeated on a bench, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be cadet.  I'm not.”  

Every clone knows of Ninety-nine.  One of the first attempts in their design, labeled defective, and deficient, he was not treated with much care or respect by many of his younger brothers, yet he was always patient and kind.  Ninety-nine was surely to be destroyed if it weren't for the Republic taking a more active interest in their investments, sending General Shaak Ti to Kamino to oversee the training of the clones.

“See the adults out there? I can tell you more than half felt the same as you do now.”  99 leaned on his broom, watching his younger brothers run the track, “They all have different skills and abilities, but they found their way.  Many of them are still searching.  Even the older ones.  You're not alone cadet.”

“But, my mates…”