Author's Note: Things will finally be explained this chapter and Vau makes a much belated return to the story (YAY!). Thanks for sticking with me. Enjoy. -Em

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Chapter 21: Fulcrum

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It wasn't hard to figure out what Senator Riyo Chuchi was doing on Onderon. Even though neither of them said anything, Ahsoka knew she and Lux were a couple. It was clear in the way they looked at each other, talking a silent language of understanding that no one else understood. Riyo glanced at Lux over Katooni's shoulder while she fussed over the girls new clothes and his face broke into a grin. Ahsoka leaned against the opposite side of the doorway with her old friend and studied him. The awkward and confused teenager she had met on Raxus was gone and a refined young man was in his place. Ahsoka tried not to think about what Lux saw when he looked at her, where the self-assured young Commander had once been.

"If I'd known you two would hit it off so well, I'd have introduced you myself," Ahsoka said, smirking when Lux jumped and flashed her a guilty look.

"I should have said…" he trailed off as she waved her hand at him. "I didn't want you to think that I—either of us—had forgotten you."

"Thank you, Lux. It's… good to know someone cared. I'm glad you're both happy." She looked back at Riyo and Katooni. The small Tollothian was blushing under the attention and smiling shyly.

"You're actually the reason I met Riyo. She remembered you talking about me and introduced herself. She hoped… that you were hiding with me here."

"I'm sorry for not contacting you sooner," Ahsoka said, "even before the war ended, I shouldn't have just cut you out that way."

"We both needed space," he said understandingly but his voice was tight with emotion.

"Yeah," Ahsoka nodded. I was too busy thinking about someone who was always planning to betray me and I nearly lost a true friend. A knock on the door made them both turn. Lux stepped back to open it.

"You must be Jeu," he said as the Slicer swayed into the room with a business case over one shoulder and a smile on her lips.

"At your service, Senator," she said with a graceful bow to him.

"Thank you for getting this done so quickly," Ahsoka said to her.

"Of course," Jeu embraced the taller togruta lightly. "It's a lot easier when the government you're trying to fool gives you all the access codes." She grinned at Lux. "Is there a place I can set up?"

"Right this way," Lux led her to the hollonet terminal, leaving Ahsoka standing in the doorway. She watched Jeu explaining the new documentation to Sayne and Katooni while Lux and Riyo stood to the side in quiet private discussion for a while. No one noticed when she slipped out of the room back to her ship.

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Ventress was sitting in the main galley with the hollo-projector showing the two occupied cells below in Shard's hull. The Illothorian was pacing and wringing his hands. The clones were almost still. The veteran sat against the far wall staring at nothing while the other conscious clone tended to his wounded brother.

"Can we leave?" Ventress asked irritably when Ahsoka entered the galley. The former Sith apprentice wasn't comfortable this far into Empire territory and it showed. She hadn't even left the ship since they landed.

"Almost," Ahsoka responded and busied herself making caf. "Jue has arrived with Sayne and the girl's new identity."

"Are you leaving the extra luggage here too?"

"The clones are coming with us."

"Where? You can't keep them prisoner on your ship forever."

"I haven't decided."

"You're pathetic. There's only one solution—and you should have had the guts to figure it out before they came to."

"I won't kill them for what they are," Ahsoka responded, hoping she sounded more assured than she was.

"Then kill them to protect yourself. They're nothing but a danger to all of us. If you can't do it, I will."

Ahsoka spun around to glare at Ventress. "No one is dying on my ship," she snapped, "got it?"

"I'd be doing you a favor," Ventress sneered. "This is the problem with your misguided Jedi code. You're just ignoring the truth—that the world is a dark and merciless place full of selfish people. It explains why the Jedi were so easily whipped out. I'm surprised you're making that same mistake twice."

Ahsoka frowned and gripped the edge of the galley countertop. Am I making the same mistakes again? Am I letting my emotions blind me because I want the clones to be redeemable? Or am I hesitating to release them because I'm scared and angry?

"Face it, Tano; Following the Jedi code has gotten you nowhere."

"While following the Sith has taken you so far?" Ahsoka countered. Ventress's smirk dissolved. "You've been fighting for the power to protect the things you loved and to avenge them and what do you have to show for it? We're both on the run, fleeing our homes and betrayed by the people we once lead, regardless of the code we followed."

"At least I'm not weak-willed and defenseless," Ventress hissed.

"At least I'm not alone," Ahsoka shot back. Ventress recoiled from the words and her glower became a snarl of rage. She stood up quickly and turned away from Ahsoka.

"I'm not alone," Ventress growled, "I just have nothing left to loose. You might do well to remember that." She disappeared down the curving hallway. Ahsoka remained standing at the galley staring after the Zabrak, gripping the countertop hard. Her gaze slowly fell to the floor.

Ventress is wrong, she thought with dawning realization, it isn't the Jedi Code that led me here—it was turning away from the Code. I let my emotions control me then—I can't make the same mistake now. She looked up at the clones in the hollo-projection.

What would the Jedi say about them? She asked herself. They're living beings, helpless and innocent of any crime against me. They can't help what they are or where they were born. If there is a way to save their lives, the Jedi would say I have to try.

Ahsoka reached for her lightsaber hidden just behind the holster of Rex's DC-17, Negotiator. Her hand paused and fell instead on the grip of the blaster. She had shot clones, gangsters, and stormtroopers with that weapon… It was a tool of war and murder. If she was going to be a Jedi she had to leave behind the war and her anger at Rex. With trembling hands she unbuckled the weapons belt and put the blasters aside.

Ahsoka turned away from them and dug in her pocket for the bit of flimsy Nyreen Vollen had given her. She looked at the word Kyrimorut scribbled at the top and hesitated only a moment before pulling out her comm, flipping on the installed voice modulator, and dialing.

The answer was prompt.

"Who is this?" a man demanded in a voice rich with a familiar accent. Ahsoka paused for a minute, contemplating her answer.

"You can call me Fulcrum," she said at last. "I was told you would be interested in taking in a few stray clone troopers."

"Who told you that?"

"Nyreen Vollen." There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Keep going," the man said cautiously and Ahsoka relaxed a little. She felt a weight, much heavier than the blasters that had swung on her hips, lifting off her shoulders. She turned to the hollo-projector and looked at her captives.

"I have three clones that I can't risk returning to the Empire. She said you could arrange something."

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The karyai of the Kyrimorut bastion was warm and bustling with activity even long after the dinner had been cleared away, just the way it always was. It's too loud here, Vau thought to himself. He always thought that when he was at Kal's house and missed the quiet until he left. Then inevitably he found himself back in the chair by the fire in the karyai watching Atin's scarred face smiling at Kad as the child passed him some toy or another. Mird sat up from his lounging bundle by Vau's feet and watched Kal approach with baleful eyes.

"So, Walon," Kal said, sitting in the chair beside the old mando and ignoring Mird, "how long are you staying this time? Or are you settling down?"

"Just passing through," Vau said, leaning down to rub Mird's head. The strill relaxed back into his dozing with a low growl.

"Uh huh," Kal said nodding. "Well, Laseema will always have a room for you here. She's quite the homemaker. I don't know how I thought I could run this place without someone like her."

"Neither do I."

Kal grumbled an answer into his tihaar.

"Looks like things have been interesting here," Vau noted. "I haven't seen the old kamini, she still around?" Of all the strange sights at Kyrimorut, the ancient Kaminoan Jedi sitting beside armored Mandalorians was the strangest, and rubbed Vau in all the wrong ways. Even three years after leaving Kamino, Vau wasn't anxious to see any of its native creatures, even one so atypical as Kina Ha.

"Yeah, she's still here." Kal growled angrily.

"You're the one who let her stay. I told you, we'd all be better off if you slotted her."

"She wouldn't agree to the mind wipe, so I couldn't let her leave. If I kill her I can't see Scout being too happy, and she's got Mij in her camp now. It complicated things."

"You seemed happy enough with it before," Vau shrugged.

"That was before she started making shab'la prophecies. You know about the child that came with Etain?"

"The one you recovered from that spook transport?"

"Yeah, that one. He's another karking Force-user. The aiwa-bait was waiting for us when we got back. She took one look at the boy and started spouting Jedi osik."

"Like?"

"What do you care?"

"Much as I hate to admit it, the Jedi tend to be right about this osik in their own twisted way. They are spectacularly good at misunderstanding it though."

"Yeah, if they weren't they'd have seen Jango's plan coming a mile away." Kal muttered and sighed heavily. "She said the kid is the reason she wanted to stay, she knew he'd be coming and she was here to train him. I swear, she starts turning this place into some haar'chak temple I will turn her into gihal."

"Typical of you, Kal. You fool yourself you're a decent man for too long and it bites you in the shebs. So, picked up any new stragglers I should know about?"

"Well my daughter's still not talking to Rav's boy, and I think Rav's a bit put out about it."

"Ugh."

"And A'den's got a thing for this shifty-eyed pilot in Pariya. So maybe I lost one and gained one, but on balance it's all the same. What have you been doing with yourself lately?" Kal asked, setting his glass down. "You haven't gone back to work as a mercenary I assume. You certainly don't need creds that badly."

"Sightseeing," Vau deflected. "Going here and there, checking up on old acquaintances, finding out who's still alive…" The last was probably the most apt description. Even sitting as close to the fire as he was, Vau felt cold thinking of the past few months. His eyes wandered to Atin on the other side of the room, urging Kad to toddle back across the rug to Darman's waiting arms. Atin was one of less than 60 survivors of Vau's original 200 Commando trainees. He knew for sure, less than half of those casualties were prior to Order 66. In a little under two years the Empire had sent more of his boys to die than the Republic did in the entire war. So much for galactic peace, Vau thought wryly.

"Must have been a lot of bad news to make you so sullen," Kal said, and snagged a glass off the table that hadn't been cleared away. He whipped it with a napkin before filling it from his tihaar bottle and sliding it to Vau.

"From your cheery disposition, it seems to be going around," Vau said and tipped the glass in a mirthless toast.

"I'm afraid I have more, buir," a voice interrupted them from behind. Both old men turned to see Jaing striding across the Karyai, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his sweaty, dark hair.

"Ja'ika," Kal greeted him with a smile, "Ordo said you'd run off with A'den and Bardan for the day." Jaing looked at his boots and frowned, holding his helmet tightly under his left arm out of habit. Kal's smile slipped. "Just come on out with it. Better to pull the bandage off quick, son."

"Cornucopia showed up again," Jaing said flatly. "It was picked up by Imperial Transit late last night on the edge of Catharia Space. We were too late, buir. It was gone by the time we got there. Bardan says there was some kind of battle, but the Force wasn't being too specific."

"When is it ever," Vau grumbled.

"That's not the worst part. I wasn't the only one who sliced into the ITA system looking for Ny. I found another virus monitoring the same alerts I was."

"Did they know you found them? Could they have traced you back here?"

"No, buir, they weren't that good. I only found the bug because Cornucopia was removed from the flagged list. It's no longer in the Imperial database, and as far as I can tell, it was removed from inside the Imperial system."

"Can you trace the slicer?"

"I tried. The virus deleted itself before I got the chance. I'm sorry, buir." Jaing put a hand on his father's shoulder gently. Kal just nodded and patted the boy's grey leather glove.

"It's alright, ad'ika," Kal said with a sigh. "You did the best you could. Thank you."

Jaing squeezed Kal's shoulder then slipped away toward the hallway again, probably to catch up on the sleep he'd missed.

"Your woman missing?" Vau asked.

"Probably not," Kal said, his voice heavy. "Last we knew she wasn't on the ship. Shab, A'den's probably crushed. He's still holding out hope."

"Sounds like you are too," Vau said, his eyes following Kal critically as the shorter man stood stiffly and ran a hand over his face.

"I don't need anymore deaths on my conscience. I shouldn't have let her go."

"It's not your fault," Vau said with a shrug. "Ny made her own choices."

"So I take a bit more responsibility for what happens to the people I care for," Kal snapped, "if it means I get up off my shebs and do something about it, I have no intention of changing." With that he stalked off toward A'den's room with a dark cloud over his bent head.

At least he left the bottle, Vau thought and reached over for the flask of clear alcohol.

"Poor Kal, always worrying about someone," a kind voice said to Vau's right. He turned to meet the pretty smile of Etain Tur-Mukan. She looked thinner than he'd ever seen her, truly frail not petite. Vau could see her legs shaking to hold her up, and she took Kal's vacated seat quickly.

"I don't suppose I have to tell you to be careful with that," she said, motioning to the glass he was pouring.

"No, ma'am. I have some experience with it. I know my own limits," he said, indulging her. She smirked at him with a spark of amusement in her bright green eyes.

"We didn't know when you'd be coming back, Sergeant, or I'm sure Rav would have made a nicer dinner for you," she said kindly. Vau hid a frown in his drink because Rav hadn't been around since he got back. She had her own place with her four boys farther north.

"I'm sure she would," Vau said as evenly as he could.

"I guess I can't ask you what you were doing that was so important?"

"Just recon."

"Are Delta alright? And Omega?" She asked anxiously.

"The boys are all fine," Vau said, with a feeling something sharp and cold digging into his chest.

"Good. I—I worry."

Vau cleared his throat uncomfortably and asked, "how are you?"

"I've been better, but that's expected right?" She said, giving him a happy but tired smile. "I didn't think childbirth would take it out of me so completely. Even with the Force, I'm weak as a flintgnat."

Oh, Vau realized, she doesn't remember the last few years. She thinks the war is still going and Kad has just been born.

"Parja has been a great help, taking care of Kad when I'm too exhausted. He's getting so big so quickly. It seems like only a few days ago he was smaller than my forearm. I swear he'll start walking any day now."

Vau looked over at Kad, toddling about on his chubby feet in the circle of his adoring uncles and Darman in the middle. That certainly wasn't the child Etain was talking about. Looking at her, Vau could almost convince himself that she was back to the woman she used to be. Her face was soft with affection and caring, but she was looking toward the hallway not her husband and son.

If he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have thought the small, meek-looking child capable of the stubborn strength of will that had carried her through the war. Etain wasn't like Kal or himself, she was compassionate at her core and had to work all the harder to do what needed to be done in the indecent world she lived in. Vau respected her for having the strength to act—even if sometimes she acted foolishly. She fit into the Skirata family well in that regard. It was hard to think that something had broken her so completely she didn't even recognize her own child.

"How is Scorch?" Her question caught him off-guard.

"Scorch?" He asked. Broken, his mind supplied the answer. He hadn't seen Scorch or his squad-mates since before they shipped out for Kashyyyk. He'd only spoken to them over comm after Sev went M.I.A. That was enough to tell him that Scorch would never be the same. Looking into Etain's worried eyes, he didn't know how to explain that. Did she remember Sev? Did she remember trying to go back for him herself?

"I didn't want to leave him on Harugab after what happened. Jusik said he'd make sure they had what they needed, but I think they just need a break, time away from the war—and he can't give them that. The army is pushing those men too hard and too far. Who's to say they won't all break like that before this is over?" She sounded as broken as Scorch. She's probably thinking about Darman, Vau realized. Does she remember what Darman did to Kal when he found out about Kad?

"You won't tell Scorch I told you about his break-down, will you? He wouldn't want you to know." She was repeating herself now. Etain had told him the same thing years ago when she called with the news from Harugab. He had clearly never fooled her into thinking he didn't care for his boys. "You know your opinion means everything to them. Sometimes I worry they care more about making you proud than surviving this war."

"That is making me proud," Vau forced himself to say the words he had only thought back then. Did they know that? Did Sev? Did he do something brash and drastic to achieve his mission because he thought I expected that? Is that why he's dead? They were all questions that Vau had asked himself before.

"Tell them that sometime," Etain said kindly. "It would mean a lot for them to know you are proud and that… someone outside of their Squad wants them to survive." They didn't know, Vau now had his answer. More than half of my boys died not knowing they were the best shab'la thing I ever did in this wretched galaxy. He knew what that felt like, how painful it was to fail the person that mattered most. There was a time when his father's opinion meant the world to him. The day his father gave him the last brutal beating and banished him, he remembered thinking he'd rather be dead than feel that way. Vau's cold heart burned colder, and he missed what Etain said next.

"I was going to tell Dar about Kad on… on the way… on…" She trailed off into muttering, her brow pulling together and her frown deepening. Her eyes got a far off look, like she was trying to recall something from long ago. Mird sat up and whined lowly.

"Girl?" Vau asked, setting down his glass and turning to Etain with apprehension. Kal had said she wasn't quite right.

"How can I have had… that doesn't… I did tell Dar… or… I thought…"

Little chubby feet slapping against the hardwood approached the fireside. Vau looked up to see Kad waddling over with an anxious expression. He came up to Etain's knobby knees and put his pudgy hands on her leg.

"Mama?" He asked, looking up at her with his large dark eyes. Etain stared down at her son in complete confusion. Vau could see a storm brewing in her eyes the moment before it broke.

"You are not my son," Etain hissed. "No! I am not your mother!" She pushed Kad's hands away from her and the unstable child stumbled. Mird's whine rose to a growl. Etain grabbed her head like it pained her and glared at the child. "Get away from me sith-spawn mutant! You are not my son!" She stood up and screeched at Kad. "Don't you dare touch me! Get away from me! You are nothing!"

Vau jumped up, his elbow knocking his glass over and it shattered on the floor. Without thinking about what he was doing, Vau grabbed Kad off the floor into his armored embrace. The only thought in his mind was putting himself between the child and the screaming woman and blocking out the long buried memories of his childhood threatening to drag him under. He remembered exactly how it felt to cower before his mother's screaming until the woman made herself hoarse and finally could scream no more. He held Kad while the child wailed and sobbed against the plates of hard metal. Vau covered the boy's ears, gritted his teeth and willed his face to become stone.

Around him the karyai erupted into motion. Mird jumped up, growling and snapping at Etain and dashing around Vau's feet. Darman sprinted across the room and put himself between Etain and Vau, his head swinging back and forth between his wife and son. Besany and the little Jedi, Scout, hurried to Etain's side, while Laseema ran for Bardan and Mij. All the while Etain screamed and fought with all her dwindling strength against her husband and the women trying to calm her.

"Give me back my son! Where is Dar? What have you done with him? Mercenaries and kidnappers, slavers! Get your hands off me! Give me my son!"

It seemed like an hour before Bardan came running in wearing loose sleeping clothes, his hair wild. He went straight to Etain and put his fingers on her temples even as she tried to back away from him. A second later, her screams drifted into silence, and she slumped between Scout and Besany. Mij came hurrying in a second later with panicked eyes. He looked from the collapsed woman, to Bardan, to Darman, and then to Vau and Kad. His shock was clear and mirrored by everyone else.

Vau didn't even notice them staring. He was lost in his tortured mind, spinning between memories and imagination. Through it he felt Kad being lifted from his arms and tightened his grip, shaking himself back into the present. Darman looked back at Vau curiously, keeping a hold on his child. The old mercenary looked down at the boy cradled to his chest. When was the last time I held a child? He wondered. Have I ever? He eased his grip and let Kad be lifted away. The child was still crying and sobbing softly. Kad clung to his father's neck with small arms and grasping little fingers.

My boys looked like that once, Vau thought, watching Darman take Kad out of the room, whispering softly to him. They were about that size when I first got to Kamino. There were so many of them in little rows of beds, like cages, fields of cages filled with little boys. Did anyone ever hold them? Did anyone ever even pick them up? By the time Vau got them to train they were walking, talking, serious little men, the physical equivalent of a five-year-old.

And I broke them. I broke them and sent them out to die—didn't even tell them how shab'la proud I was. They were the best of the best because I made them more broken than any others. I made them what my father made me.

Shab!

I am my father. I'm every shab'la part of him! Vau felt physically sick for a moment at the thought. I thought beating those boys till they cracked was a kindness… was the right thing to do. I didn't do anything more for them than my father did for me.

And they still wanted to please me? He gripped the back of the chair he'd been sitting in for support. They were still waiting for my approval—approval that I never gave to them. I couldn't even give them that? Why?

Who ever did anything for them? Who looked out for them? Who cares about them now? The casualty list he had compiled more than answered those questions: No one.

They were just pawns to the Empire, more-so than they had been to the Republic. The Jedi had at least pretended to care about clone lives. The Empire didn't seem to care about anyone's life. They stole Etain's and shoved someone else into her body instead. She was worse than dead. Her identity was destroyed and with it her soul.

If the Empire can take it from her, they can take it from my boys too, he realized. It was the only thing he could say he had given them; a Mandalorian soul. What have I done for them if I let that be taken away?

The only course of action left to him formed slowly in Vau's mind and he straightened up as he planned. His stone face remained impassive while the thoughts coalesced into intentions. Suddenly and without warning, Vau gave a short, piercing whistle and Mird jumped to its feet. Vau didn't even glance at the animal, just stalked out of the karyai with the golden beast nipping at his heels.

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The binders held Rex against the cold metal. The chill crept down his back, through his blood, numbing everything. Even if he was released Rex wasn't sure he could lift his arms or legs. His entire body felt heavy as duracrete and brittle. Each breath was a struggle against the weight that seemed to be set on his chest.

He felt a strange sensation on his scalp, like thin cold fingers running through his short hair, bristling it in the wrong directions. He wanted to tell whoever was doing it to stop, but he couldn't find breath to speak. Slowly he raised his eyes. The metal arms hanging from the ceiling gleamed in the white lights of the laboratory. They moved in jerky, sharp spurts. As each moved he felt the alien sensation on his scalp.

Rex dropped his eyes to the table at his side. In a gleaming silver basin splattered in red droplets was a pale dome of flesh coated with light blond fuzz. The world spun in Rex's eyes, all centered on the piece of flesh and bone in the dish. He knew, without a doubt, it was his. His lungs strained and fought as he panted in panic. His body felt even heavier and the straps pulled tighter. He kept staring at the top of his own head in the shining dish and the familiar blood fuzz. The manipulator arms poked and prodded at his brain, digging into his head like cold, hard fingers in soft earth. He opened his mouth to scream, but his lungs hardened solid and burned for oxygen.

Rex jerked awake to the feeling of cold metal on his arm. His hand immediately found the small blaster under his pillow and he flipped over to level it at the two points of light in the darkened barracks.

Z9 held up its manipulator arms and backed away quickly with a soft whir of its wheels. Rex's shaking hand holding the blaster didn't drop an inch and his heart pounded against his ribs.

Silently the droid held one manipulator over its main speaker and then pointed at Rex's locker where his armor was stored. It rolled a short ways away and made a 'follow' motion. Rex sat up slowly without lowering the blaster. He kept the weapon leveled until the droid had retreated all the way out of the barracks and the doors had closed behind the machine.

Quickly and quietly, with years of practice, Rex put on his armor.

Z9 was waiting for him in the hallway.

"My mistress wishes to speak with you," it said. "Carry the box and follow me." It pointed to a box on the hallway floor. Rex bent stiffly to pick it up and the droid buzzed off down the hall. He had trouble keeping up with the frantic little wheels of the machine, but it wasn't far to the Doctor's lab. He noticed the night shift weren't at their post when he entered after the droid and scowled. Z9 ushered him through the door across the room, into a smaller office that was no-more inviting. Doctor Orsa was at the large desk, bent over datapads and flimsy printouts. She looked up when Rex entered and her chin puckered.

"You can put that anywhere," she said with a wave, "I don't actually need it." Rex put the box on the edge of the nearest table. Orsa continued to give him the uncomfortable look, her eyes flickering over the visor of his helmet. Rex popped the seal and pulled off his bucket, breathing in the antiseptic and acrid smell of the lab.

"Helmets still bother you," he stated, meeting her eyes. She frowned deeper and looked down at her work.

"It's not the helmet," she said. She pushed the datapadd aside and sat back in her chair. "So, now that you've seen what I do, what do you think?" She asked him.

"I don't understand it," Rex said flatly. But it scares the osik out of me, he thought.

"I'm sorry," she said shaking her head, "I forget you're not accustomed to all the science and subterfuge."

"I'm a soldier," Rex agreed, standing a little straighter.

"No," Orsa said heavily, "you're just one small part of a large, biological weapon of targeted mass-destruction."

"A soldier of the clone army," Rex translated.

"I know you've put it together," she said looking over his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. "It's not hard to see; The Clone Army was created to destroy the Jedi."

"You mean to protect the Republic from the Jedi," Rex corrected her.

Orsa laughed humorlessly and said to herself, "I am a clever girl, aren't I?"

The droid piped up, "Statistically your intelligence is ranked in the 99th percentile of the human population, by definition you are a genius, mistress."

"Thank you, ZeeNine," the doctor said exhaustedly, putting her head in her hands. She looked up a moment later and asked Rex, "What makes you believe you were created to protect the Republic?" She asked him.

"Because the Jedi were corrupt and greedy. They no-longer served the best interest of the Republic and its citizens."

"How do you know that? What have you experienced to convince you of that?"

"General Pong Krell," Rex said without hesitation. "He was a Jedi General who sabotaged the Republic war effort on Umbara through misinformation and poor tactics to gain favor with the Separatists."

"Yes," Orsa nodded, "that was a terrible thing and an embarrassing failure of the Jedi Order that they were unaware of Krell's disloyalty. But not all the Jedi were like him, where they?"

"Every group has outliers."

"So was Krell an outlier or part of a trend?" She asked and before he could answer she pushed on. "What did your general, Anakin Skywalker, think of Krell? Or Ahsoka Tano, what did she think?"

Rex had to dig in his memory for the answers. I told Commander Tano the whole story once, he thought. He could vaguely recall sitting beside her on the dimly lit observation deck and the words pouring out of him. She still had burns on her neck and lekku from the zygarian shock-collar. He remembered being so bruised it hurt to wear his armor but needing the comfort of its protection after the terrifying ordeal of Kadavo. There was a small crease of concentration in the center of her brow between the markings over her eyes as she listed to him and repeated the unfamiliar language, a soft look of sadness on her face.

Rex took a deep breath, feeling his eyes growing overfull. How could I have forgotten that? He asked himself in horror. How could I forget how much she cared?

Tahmina Orsa was still looking at him expectantly with her off-colored eyes.

"You remembered something you had forgotten, didn't you," she prompted him.

"I already know I can't trust my memory," Rex replied, his shaking voice betraying him. Orsa looked surprised, so he explained. "I spoke with someone who used to know me. I'm convinced the person she remembers isn't the man I am today."

"I'm…impressed," the Doctor said, sitting back. "It takes a lot of mental flexibility to consider and accept your mind's fallibility."

"I'm not sure I understand," Rex said.

"Memories and emotions are chemicals stored in your brain and, like data in a computer, that stored information can later be changed. Everything you feel is a chemical response in reaction to some kind of stimuli—be it external, like pain or pleasure, or internal, like regret and longing.

"Years ago my father and I were researching bio-synthetic structures that could selectively alter chemical responses. We hoped the results would help cure mental illnesses; paranoia, phobias, even mental-trauma.

"Theoretically, our research showed that the same structures could be used to alter personalities and control thought processes."

"Like conditioning," Rex said.

"Yes," Orsa nodded, "but even more radical and effective. The bio-synthetic structures could rewrite the emotions associated with memories, rewriting a person's history and their development—even change their most deeply held beliefs."

"Wouldn't the person know what was happening to them if their memories suddenly changed?" He asked.

Orsa laughed and looked at him pityingly. "Did you?"

Rex felt a shiver travel down his spine. He tried to deny what he already knew was the truth while Orsa kept talking like a woman possessed.

"The human brain is amazingly resilient and adaptable. It can reconcile vast inconsistencies in real time. The brain will alter conflicting memories or conceal them, and fill the gaps with completely imagined memories. The bio-chips we created relied on that because they could never be more than a blunt tool.

"They work off existing emotions; love, loyalty, fear, anger... It was almost laughably easy to design them for clones. Genetically, they are identical. Loyalty is both engineered and conditioned into them. The chip I developed for Palpatine does little more than intensify that feeling to insure obedience. It was a simple mater to trigger the effects with a phrase: 'Execute Order 66'. It was built into the earliest stages of flash-leaning. The clones wouldn't even remember it."

"But when did they put it in?" Rex demanded, cutting her off.

"What?"

"This… chip, when was it put in my head? I don't understand how they could put one in every clone without us noticing."

Doctor Orsa just stared at him dumbly for a long moment. "It's always been there, from the early stages of development in the cloning cylinders. You've had it all your life."

Rex felt like his stomach was filled with ice as the knowledge washed over him. He could see it clearly; the clone army was a single living entity, the host of a parasite with one singular cause.

"Fives was right, about all of it," he said to himself.

"CT-5555," Orsa said, "yes. The Emperor, the Chancellor then, came to me about him when news of the possible compromise to the secrecy of the plan reached Coruscant. He wanted to know how much Fives could have learned about the purpose of the chips."

"Five was smart—too smart. He figured out the whole thing. I just didn't listen," Rex said and slumped against the nearest table.

"The Chancellor had Nala Se drug Fives, then framed him for a fictitious attack. If Fives had cooperated with the Kaminoans his mind would have been whipped, regardless. He was too close to discovering the plan—he shouldn't have been on Kamino at all."

"Fives died because he knew the truth. He was only there because I let him go." I'm the reason Fives is dead, He finished silently. Rex had known that on some level for a long time, but hearing it confirmed weighed heavy on his shoulders. "And Tup?"

"Tup?... Oh, CT-5385. He was the one in one million whose chip mutated enough that the subject's… um, Tup's… immune system began attacking it. The deteriorating chip poisoned his cranial fluid and causing fatal neurological degeneration."

"Umm…"

"Brain death."

"And Coric? CT-3011—"

"Yes, I… I know who he was." Orsa sighed heavily. "I knew you would ask about him. He was one of your closest brothers after all."

"You expect me to believe that these things in our heads turned him into a child-killer?"

"Like most clones, he was loyal to the army and his brothers. The chip just made his loyalty a stronger motivation than his morals to protect the lives of others. I've seen similar behaviors in other subjects in the lab."

"People—you've seen it in other people!"

"Yes." Orsa agreed mater-of-factly without acknowledging the difference. "When the chip causes a major internal conflict of morals or decisions it can have physical side effects. The chip will continuously try to exert its control while the existing memories contradict and confuse the subject. The result is an inability to make decisions, form clear opinions and memories. If the subject does not accept the chips influence, eventually the mental fatigue causes delirium, psychosis, stroke, coma, and-or death."

"It drove Coric insane."

"To put it simply."

"Simply?" Rex growled, standing up and balling his fists. "To put it simply he fried his own brain and your shab'la chip with a bolt of hot plasma traveling three hundred and forty meters per second." Orsa stared back into his furious glare with only mild shock. Rex forced himself to turn away from her and breath deeply. It took him a few moments to calm down.

"What about me?" he asked softly. "Your chip made me betray someone I once protected. How come I haven't gone crazy?"

"More than any other clone I have ever studied, your loyalties appear to be split and your sense of self, independent from your brothers, is stronger than other clones. The chip latched onto the trauma from your experiences on Umbara and tried to reconcile that view of the Jedi with your memories. It only half succeeded. Ultimately it was your injury that saved your mind and your life."

"Huh?" Rex turned to give her a doubtful look.

"You have been medicating the pain from your injury," she explained. "The chip's effectiveness is inhibited by alcohol and certain anesthetics. Your drug habits are your coping mechanism."

"Then what about Fox? The Empire he is supposed to be serving killed his closest brother and is putting his family at risk."

"Yes, I believe he is beginning to feel the effects," Orsa reached up to her neck where Fox had likely left bruises from their last meeting.

"How long till he loses it for good?" Rex asked.

"It's impossible to say. It could be today, it could be in a decade."

"Shab," Rex hissed and ran a hand over the back of his head. He paced a short ways across her office. If Fox loses it where the wrong person can hear we could both be dead, he thought. How dangerous is he and how do I know when he starts losing his mind? Rex thought of Nia Kahn drifting off in the middle of making caf and pressing her lips to his cheek. He spun around to face the Doctor again.

"These chips, you don't just put them in clones."

"No. You saw that today."

"Who else have you put them in?"

"Spies, criminals, traitors, a few government officials," She looked down at her hands, folded on the desk. "Mostly I implant chips for interrogation, but the Emperor has discovered they have other more… destructive uses. His capacity to twist my work never fails to disturb me."

"You said they could change someone's personality, make them… someone else."

"You're thinking of Etain Tur-Mukahn," Orsa said with a look of realization. "I'm surprised you recognized it for what it was. Yes, I put a bio-chip in Tur-Muhkan's brain a few days after Order 66 was issued."

"Like the one in my brothers and I?" Rex asked.

"No, a more aggressive one. For the past few years Palpatine has had me researching targeted memory suppression. Clone bio-chips alter memory interpretation and the mind alters the long-term memories. Tur-Mukahn's chip suppressed large sections of her declarative memory. Parts of her original personality remained of course; the chip can only block off so much of the subject's temporal lobe without adverse effects."

"But those memories could come back," Rex said. I've seen them come back.

"Yes, that is what my research shows. I've begun developing chips that eradicate memories by regeneration of the brain cells—effectively whipping out the subjects ability to form or retain long-term memories. As opposed to simply discouraging the brain from examining the undesired sections of memory."

"What is that good for?" Rex asked in confusion. "A person with no memory is basically a droid."

"Exactly," Orsa said bitterly. "The Emperor finds uses, even for my failures. He discovered that a human with no memory is a docile slave, or an unwitting plague carrier, or a suicide bomber, or a living—"

"Bomber?" Rex interrupted her. "Are you saying you've done that? You put a chip in someone's head that whipped out their memories, then you strapped them with explosives and sent them to kill and die?"

"I just implanted the chips," Orsa said, looking firmly at her hands.

"Nasis, Conall Nasis, is that what happened to him?"

"Neither you or IT-1010 will be revealed because of his capture," she said softly and looked to the side, away from him, "I made sure of that."

"Shab!" Rex growled and ran both hands over his scalp in frustration. "Shabi an!" He turned around and began pacing again. It was our fault then, he thought, my fault. Nasis was caught helping us and Orsa killed him to hide our involvement. If the Emperor knew she cooperated with her kidnappers they'd kill her mother; she had no choice but to kill him. No more! I can't let anyone else die because of this! It has to end.

But so long as this chip is in my brain it will never be over, he realized.

"Can you remove it?" Rex stopped his pacing.

"The chips can be removed like any tumor, the way CT-5555 removed his," Orsa said nodding, "or it can be dissolved with a viral injection that attacks synthetic proteins in the chip."

"Can you remove mine?" He demanded, his heart racing.

"Not as long as you are here. It would be obvious if you removed it surgically, and I can't obtain the necessary supplies or equipment to fabricate the viral cure."

Rex's heart sank and he gritted his teeth.

"Then tell me how to fight it."

"That's more complicated than it sounds," Orsa told him softly, almost gently. "The chip latches onto the things you feel moral obligations to and intensifies that emotion. Your loyalties are at odds. Since you can't prevent the chip from affecting your mind, you have to align your loyalties so the chip re-affirms the person you are naturally."

"How do I do that when I don't remember who that person was?"

Orsa just gave him a pained look.

"Get some sleep, Private," she said at length and pulled her work back into the center of her desk. "There's nothing more you can do tonight." She bent her head over the data pads, the mass of frizzy black hair obscuring her face.

Rex left her office with slow shuffling steps. He paused to look around the dimly lit lab beyond. The row of cloning cylinders was dark, and the straps of the gurney hung off the sides. Every surface was whipped down and the room smelled overpoweringly of antiseptics without his helmet filters. Rex shuddered and hurried out of the nightmarish scene.

I have to warn Fox, he thought on his way back to his bunk. He needs to know what's happening to him. Maybe if Coric had known, he would have understood it wasn't his fault and maybe…

I have to tell Darman what's happening to Etain. How do I contact them, short of tracking them down on Mandalore myself? Is she even still alive? From what Orsa said about conflicting memories the chances aren't good. What did I send back to him? Rex asked himself in horror, thinking of the pain in Darman's voice when he spoke of Etain. I sent him his wife back from the dead, only so he could watch her die again. How can I face him after that? How could he thank me for that?

No, he convinced himself, I can't go to Kyrimorut, not now at least. I still need Orsa. I have to stay.

Is that me thinking, another part of his mind wondered, or the chip?

Rex shed his armor and rolled under the blankets, his mind spinning with everything Orsa had told him. He asked himself a million 'what if' questions until his head hurt. Every time he drifted toward sleep he remembered the man strapped to Orsa's gurney with a hole in his head and jerked awake, holding down bile. He barely shut his eyes all night. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to sleep again with the gnawing fear of his own mind.

.

Author's Note: Now things are moving. Next chapter: Vau gives Delta Squad the option to defect. -Em