Dear Reader, thank you to the reviewers of the previous chapter: princess-rey-tano, Akira-Hayama, Sued13, Christina TM, ichkak, Guest, and Ms CT-782. As always, I very much appreciate the feedback! One note I forgot to put in the last chapter. Kyber Crystals are what was used to power the Death Star's planet-destroying weapon. So, I kind of worked that in here and created the situation where rhydonium is used to create them . . . thinking forward to "A New Hope." Well, we are in totally new territory now, and this is all pre-Revenge of the Sith and clearly before Dooku dies at the hands of Anakin. For me, while there may be a Battle of Mandalore, Rex is not involved in any way, shape or form. You will be able to figure out why after reading this chapter, probably. I hope you enjoy! Peace, CS

Chapter 131 Tralgaria

"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Was there not a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew,
someone had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply.
Theirs not to reason why.
Theirs but to do or die.
Into the valley of death
rode the six hundred."

The Charge of the Light Brigade
Lord Alfred Tennyson

Donya grinned. Her extension had come through. She would be detailed to the Trident Battle Group for the duration of this mission.

That was good reason to smile; for despite the peril of the her first field mission, she was discovering that she enjoyed being among the ranks of combat arms troopers, as opposed to sitting in an office all day, working with fellow intel types.

It was enjoyable, looking at data with different sets of eyes at her side. Major Kamat, a Khil and Admiral Yularen's top intelligence officer, was great fun to work with. He had a sense of humor that was surprisingly witty and irreverent. Plus, he was a brilliant analyst. The clones were polite, professional, and mission-driven. And in their armor, they had a rugged appearance that only enhanced their physical attributes. Most of the clones Donya worked with at GISA wore the standard Class C greys. It made her feel as if she were a part of a military organization as opposed to the more corporate feel of intelligence analysis. It was a nice change of scenery.

And there was one aspect of that scenery that was occupying more of Donya's thoughts than she would have imagined possible. Still, it was a pleasant preoccupation, and she felt no desire to excise it.

She had seen Rex only in passing over the past several days.

In planning meetings, in the ship's corridors, occasionally in the mess hall.

Nothing in his expressions or actions hinted at what had transpired that night in his quarters.

Of course, nothing really had happened.

The captain had shown himself to be firm in his commitment – a commitment Donya simply could not understand. She decided she had come up against the stalwart, the bastion of prudence, the immovable.

Perhaps that was what made him so attractive to her. He was a challenge. After all, it was as he had said: they hardly knew each other; and yet she had decided almost immediately upon first meeting him that here was a man with whom she would like to be more intimately acquainted. He had none of the easiness of Commander Cody or the ready familiarity of the rank-and-file clone troopers. That standoffishness, to Donya, was like the irresistible lure of light to a deep-sea Jukefish. Putting aside the captain's physical attributes, his personality alone was proving to be enticement enough.

But she had to admit that she had overplayed her hand. She had underestimated his ability to resist her.

She would not make that mistake again.

And now, as she entered the mess with the ostensible purpose of satiating her hunger, she was pleased to see him just sitting down at a table.

Alone.

She was not surprised to see him in the mess. He clearly enjoyed eating with his troopers, and Donya knew it would only be a matter of minutes—possibly even seconds—before he was joined by some of his soldiers.

She had to move quickly. She zipped to the nearest food dispenser that had no line, punched in the item on the top of the list, squinched up her nose at the unappetizing glop that came out on the plate, and headed for the captain's table.

"May I join you?"

Rex looked up. "Of course, Ma'am," he said politely.

"Unflappable," Donya remarked internally.

Donya sat. "Is this stuff any good?"

Rex glanced at the non-descript pile on her plate. "Is that Nutri-1?"

"It was first on the dispenser."

Now, Rex could not suppress a grin. "That's Nutri-1. That's something we were fed on Kamino. It's designed specifically for clone nutrition. It's perfectly balanced to make sure we get all the nutrients we need. Once we come on active dutyi, we usually only eat it as a supplement if we know we're getting ready to go on a difficult mission. Or if we're injured and recovering. You, uh, look like you've got enough there to feed an entire platoon."

"So, if it's designed for clones, will it be any good for me?" she asked.

"It's nutritionally sound for any humanoid life form," Rex replied. "But, you may not be able to get past the taste. We grew up with it, so it's no big deal to us. But General Skywalker won't touch the stuff."

Donya took a tiny bit on her fork and put it tentatively in her mouth. She grimaced at the taste but swallowed the sample. "That is vile!"

Rex chuckled quietly. "That's the usual reaction from non-clones."

"Do you want it?"

"No, thanks," Rex replied. "But why don't you go get something else? The Bagat Na is a big favorite. And the Krill filet is very good."

"I think I'll take your advice," Donya said, moving the plate of Nutri-1 to the side. "But I, uh, I really came in here hoping to find you." A pause. "I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other night in your quarters. I went over the line, and I'm sorry."

"No apology is necessary."

"It was rude of me," she went on. "I misunderstood the situation. I thought I saw something there, but I was mistaken. I feel so foolish."

"I admit, it was . . . a surprise," Rex replied. "But no harm done."

"And I feel terrible about scoffing at your relationship with the . . . with, uh . . . "

"Her name is Maree," Rex provided.

"Maree," Donya smiled. "I didn't mean to belittle her or you. It just struck me as peculiar to be in love with a religious woman, but she must be very special. Is she on Coruscant?

Rex gave a somewhat derisive chuckle. "I don't think there's any religion on Coruscant. No, her planet is on the outer rim.

"Do you get to see her often?" Donya inquird.

Rex was struck by the answer to that question, for the truth was that he had only seen her once – the period of time he and his brothers had been stranded on Bertegad. He hadn't seen or spoken to or heard of her since. She was often in his thoughts, but contact? None.

"No," he answered simply.

"Not even by holo?"

"Her Order doesn't believe in electronic communications," he replied. "Where they live is meant to be a retreat, a respite from society. They don't allow any communications other than what can go by foot."

"By foot? Not even by space craft or speeder?"

"No, none of that."

Donya affected her most awestruck voice. "They must be very primitive."

Rex considered. "In many ways, they are. But there are other areas where their technology goes far beyond anything I've ever seen before."

"Oh? What areas?"

"Medical technology," Rex replied. "Their equipment and skills far surpass our own."

"Really? So, they're a healing order?"

"Healing. Teaching. I think they do a bit of everything," Rex replied.

After a few seconds, Donya asked, "Do you mind if I ask how you met her?"

"We crash-landed on her planet," came the reply. "We were stranded in the middle of a desert, and her people rescued us. They healed the men who were injured. They protected us from the Separatists."

"How did you end up crash-landing there?"

Rex grinned. "They didn't tell you how all that data you were working on deciphering came to you? That's what we were carrying. The Separatists didn't want us delivering it."

"I can see why," Donya nodded.

Rex nodded towards the increasing stream of troopers entering the mess. "If you still want to get a good choice, you might want to beat the rush."

Donya smiled. "You're just wishing I'll stop asking all these questions."

"It doesn't bother me," came the flat reply, leaving Donya to wonder if he was being honest.

"Then just one more question," she proposed tepidly. "You said before that you were willing to wait to be with her. I know I acted like a Swahill, and I'm embarrassed about that. I'm very sorry. But I . . . I do still wonder . . . will she leave her Order for you? Can you two ever really be together? Even if you're free at the end of the war, will she be free to be with you?"

"Eventually," was all Rex was willing to allow. He would not try to explain that the togetherness of which he spoke was in life after death. And even then, he had no idea what such an existence would look like.

"So . . . is she allowed to . . . to . . . give up being celibate?"

Now, Rex was growing uncomfortable. "I would never ask her to do that."

Donya sighed in wonder. "You're an amazing man, Captain."

Rex was not sure what to say, so he was silent.

Donya, sensing the conversation was winding down, announced, "Well . . . I hope we can put what happened the other night behind us and start over," Donya concluded. "We're going to be working together . . . for a while, at least. I want us both to be comfortable with each other."

"Of course, Ma'am."

With that, she stood up and took her tray of Nutri-1 to the self-bus conveyer. She left without getting anything else to eat; but as she had said . . . that hadn't been her purpose in coming out.

And now she felt that she had taken an important first step towards that purpose.

An apology.

Accepted.

Cody sat down across from Rex in the spot Major Swin had just vacated.

"You two looked deep in conversation," the commander began without preliminaries.

"Not really," Rex replied. "She just asked some questions. I answered."

"She's an eye-catcher," Cody noted.

"Maybe you should, uh, show her some interest," Rex suggested.

"Huh," Cody chuckled. "I don't think so. I don't have time to show any interest. And . . . she's not quite my type. Besides, if she's looking for attention, any of these guys would be happy to show it to her."

"They know less about women than I do," Rex grinned.

Cody laughed at this remark. "We're all pretty deficient in that respect." A pause. "But you've got a little more experience than most of us."

"A very little."

Cody shoveled down a few forkfuls of his meal, then he spoke with the kind of ease that arises inside the strongest of friendships.

"She's got her sights set."

Rex continued eating and did not even raise his eyes. "Oh?"

"Pretending not to notice?" Cody challenged.

Rex frowned. "No . . . I noticed. She made it very clear. I told her I was already involved."

Cody studied his face, the averted gaze, the mildly flushed cheek. He saw the tension rise in the shoulders.

"Are you sure about that?"

Now, Rex looked up and met Cody's gaze with a hint of agitation.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Don't get miffish," Cody chided. "I know what Maree means to you. I just . . . you might stand a better chance of having a future with someone like Major Swin than . . . than with a woman sworn to serve her god."

"I've told you—"

"I know you, Rex. You would never be able to live with yourself if you thought you were coming between Maree and her religious obligations."

"It isn't about what happens in this life," Rex replied. "I've told you that."

"I know," Cody replied earnestly. "But it has to be tough."

Rex considered before answering. "Only when things are slow. We're so busy, my thoughts are usually focused elsewhere, on staying alive and making sure my men stay alive. But when things are quiet, and I have the chance to think about her . . . yes, I miss her, and it's hard." A pause. "But I trust her. I know she meant the things she said to me. She wouldn't break her word. And neither will I."

"I believe you. You're a stronger man than I would be," Cody replied, adding with a wily grin. "Just be aware. Major Swin is interested in you."

"It doesn't matter if she is or not," Rex asserted. "I love someone else." Then, in a moment of cheekiness, he suggested, "If you were a true friend, you'd distract her."

Cody gave a closed-lipped laugh. "So, now I know the measure of true friendship."

"I'd be doing you a favor. You need a distraction yourself," Rex quipped.

"So you say."

Two weeks was far too long a convalescence for a Jedi. Or at least, a Jedi like Anakin. And two weeks of physical therapy? Totally unnecessary. But one thing Anakin had learned: never try to pull rank on a doctor.

Hypes would have none of it, and so Anakin did not even attempt to have a faster return-to-duty. He participated remotely in various planning meetings, but otherwise he forced himself to be content with just being in his quarters.

On the fourth day of recovery, he received a surprising and pleasant communication.

From Chancellor Palpatine.

"Anakin, my boy, I received word that you were injured on your last mission," came the patronly concern, followed by an old man's smile. "But that can't be true . . . you look as fit as a gundark."

"I thank you for your concern, Your Excellency," Anakin replied. "Yes, I had a broken leg. It should be fully healed in a few more days and then I'll be back on the line after a couple weeks of physical therapy," Anakin replied.

"Oh, that's very good." Palpatine's concern was earnest. "Thank goodness you weren't more seriously injured. They will certainly need your leadership for the mission to Tralgaria."

"I'll be ready," Anakin said assuredly.

"From what I've seen in my daily reports from the field, that should be a fairly straightforward mission," the Chancellor surmised.

"It would appear that way," Anakin agreed, adding, "But then things get rolling and you never know what unexpected turn events might take."

"Never were truer words spoken, my boy." A pause. "Sometimes, we can do everything right . . . and things still go wrong. And then we are left to deal with the guilt and misgivings." A strange glint shone in his eye, even through the medium of a hologram. "Let's hope that's not the case on Tralgaria."

"The facility on Tralgaria appears to be fully operational, though producing mostly small crystals at this," Major Swin noted. "There may be some larger ones, but we can't confirm it.

Yet another planning meeting as more intel was gathered by the long distance probes, and the mission details began to take shape.

The major continued. "Like the facility on Abafar, this one also is self-powered. But unlike on Abafar, this facility is not unmanned. Heat scanning has identified at least 200 individuals on site at any given time. Sentients, not droids. Variations in the heat signatures indicate that there's a mixture of Pergars and Tralgarians, and a smattering of other species working there."

"Is there any sign of a Separatist military presence?" General Windu inquired.

"Not at the facility itself," Donya replied, "But in the Canyonlands just south of the facility, there appears to be a small outpost manned by a contingent of droids. The canyons are full of caverns and tunnels that apparently serve as additional warehouses. The probes detected traces of kyber crystal within the caverns." A pause as she pulled up another image. "This is what concerns me and my fellow analysts. This is pulse signal generator. As you all know, there's only one reason for this piece of equipment."

"To send out an emergency signal," Obi-wan interjected.

"That automatically activates sleeping droids," Major Kamat added.

Major Swin resumed, "Which would seem to indicate that there must be a larger contingent of droids on standby somewhere. You know pulse generators can send their signals light years away."

"So, we need to make sure we have the forces to repel them on standby as well," Anakin put forth from his quarters.

"Cautious, we must be." This from Yoda. "A neutral planet, Tralgaria is. That the enemy has a presence cannot result in an escalation of force."

"I agree," Mace concurred. "We need to carry out this mission with the smallest task force needed to accomplish it."

"An entire battalion, it is not necessary to send," Yoda concluded.

Anakin listened impassively. He did not care what his fellow Jedi generals said. If this mission was to fall to the 501st and the 212th, which, of course, it would, he was not about have his course of action dictated by men who were in no way involved in the operation itself. And so, he sat quietly for the duration of the briefing, and when it was over, he summoned Rex to his quarters.

He wasted no time in getting straight to the point.

"Start putting together a battle plan for the battalion," he ordered. "The entire battalion. Get Cody on it with you. I can guarantee you, the Separatists have a combat group somewhere near Tralgaria that they'll call in the moment they realize what's happening. And I'll be damned if I'm going to have anything less than a full battalion there to meet them."

"Yes, General. But . . . you know Cody won't go against the decision of the—"

"Leave that to me. Give me one hour to convince Obi-wan."

"One hour, Sir? You're very sure of yourself," Rex grinned.

"When have I ever failed?"

"I can't think of a single time, General."

"So, grab Cody. Grab Major Swin. Pump her for every bit of intel she has," Anakin ordered, as Rex winced at his commanding general's choice of words. "I don't know why, but . . . I have a bad feeling about this mission. There's . . . more to it than just . . . taking out that facility."

Rex had learned long ago to trust his general's intuition, bordering on premonition. He nodded smartly. "I'll get on it right away, Sir."

Anakin watched him leave.

His feelings of misgiving grew.

And . . . here they came.

The Grand Army of the Republic's Trident Group.

Just as Lord Sidious had said.

They were coming to destroy the Kyber Crystal processing facility. Its defense, though, would fall to General Grievous and his battle group, ensconced in the valley to the north.

Just as well. Count Dooku had his own mission and he despised working with cyborg.

It was certain that General Skywalker and the vaunted 501st would take lead on this mission. Just as well. That would make his job much easier. And the presence of Grievous' armies would throw the assault into such chaos that Dooku imagined he would be able to slip in easily, fulfill his Master's orders, and slip out.

Peculiar orders, they were. But perhaps not incomprehensible in light of what Dooku suspected with regard to Lord Sidious and his plans for Skywalker; for Dooku was not a fool and he himself had sensed the kernel of darkness inside the headstrong Jedi. He had also witnessed firsthand the power and skill Skywalker possessed – not only in his use of the Force, but in the very physical abilities of flying and wielding a light saber.

That Skywalker was being slowly manipulated into a place where he could be groomed into the ways of the Dark Side, an apprentice in earnest, was no question in Count Dooku's mind. And it did not concern him. Let Chancellor Palpatine move the pieces. Dooku would reap the rewards. Let Sidious think he was fashioning a new apprentice for himself. When Dooku ousted the Sith Lord from his throne, he himself would assume the title, and Skywalker would be his apprentice.

And this way, Lord Sidious was the one doing most of the conditioning, most of the heavy lifting necessary to properly position a man to fall under the spell of the Dark Side. Dooku merely had to follow along; although he admittedly found his present mission to be somewhat off the mark.

Feelings of anger and rage, suspicion and hatred were requisite for the descent into darkness. Lord Sidious was a master at stoking those negative emotions. He'd done just that with Count Dooku. He was doing it with Skywalker. And Skywalker, in defiance of Jedi principles, had developed strong attachments that could easily be used against him: Kenobi, his mentor; Amidala, the secret love that was not secret to Lord Sidious or Dooku; Tano, his own apprentice now lost to the Order; his mother, now deceased and whose death had been effectively used to spark the first show of unfettered rage and destruction.

But Lord Sidious was going down a different path this time, focusing on a relationship that Dooku had never even give a second thought. Yes, there existed a certain . . . bond between a leader and the men he led. And yes, Skywalker had been teamed with his first-in-command for most of the war, but did an exploitable attachment really exist there? Would the sufferings of such a man truly have the impact on Skywalker that Lord Sidious must be hoping for?

Dooku had his doubts, but the answer hardly mattered to the Count. He had his mission, and he would carry it out. He had merely been waited for an opportunity to come along, and now the defense of the processing facility provided the ideal cover for such an operation.

The Republic's absolute necessity to destroy the facility, and the Separatists' absolute need to preserve it would keep the battle focused on those opposing goals. Snatching a single clone away from the battlefield would be simple.

The Tralgarians had refused to even meet to discuss the presence of the facility, insisting on their neutrality in the war.

But Republic leadership had seen it for what it was. The Tralgarians were afraid of retaliation from the Separatists if they dared speak out against their presence on the planet. If the Republic were to lose the battle, the Tralgarians would be left to face the consequences. While it was clear they were not happy with the Separatists intrusion into their mining business, they tolerated them for peace's sake – and their own survival.

Their leader's final word, before terminating communications, was a stark warning. "You are dealing with rhydonium and kyber crystals. You cannot simply blow up the facility. Even one errant shot from your weapons could destroy my entire planet. Please just take your warships and leave."

But of course, leaving was out of the question.

The facility had to be taken out of action. And if destruction was not an option, then it would have to be rendered unable to be used.

That was the task of the company-sized element preparing to head to the surface.

One hundred and twenty men to take the facility, render it inoperable by various means, confiscate the crystals, provide security and cover, obtain whatever intel could be gained, and take out any forces that might show up.

And another 1,500 hiding in the canyon . . . just in case trouble showed up.

The insertion company was comprised of men from both the 501st and the 212th. They were further organized into platoon-sized elements, with each platoon having its own particular task to carry out. 1st Platoon, under General Skywalker and Captain Rex, would take point, enter the facility and head directly for the control center. They would be heavy in both technical and demolitions personnel to figure out the best way to neutralize the facility – a technology they still did not fully understand, even after two weeks of analysis. 2d Platoon would provide their protection. 3d Platoon, under Commander Cody, would take the warehouse where the kyber crystals were stored. 4th Platoon would provide their cover. The remaining four platoons, under Jesse and Sixer from the 501st and Grommet and World from the 212th, would secure a perimeter.

Rules of engagement were strict. Absolutely no firing inside the warehouse; nowhere near the raw, mined rhydonium stores; or within any of the facility structures. Stun settings were permissible; yet everyone knew stun settings did not work against droids. Therefore, droid poppers were the weapons of choice for this mission.

The reserve forces hiding in the canyon would be under the command of General Kenobi.

Everything was in place.

As Anakin climbed aboard the gunship, he looked to his captain. "Not too many Shinies on this mission, I see."

"I wanted our most experienced troopers, General," Rex replied. "When you say you have a bad feelings about something, I want to do everything I can to . . . improve the odds we're successful." He lowered his voice. "But I'm, uh . . . not sure it's a good idea to bring Major Swin with us, Sir."

"She's good at pulling data," Anakin replied. "And interpreting it. She did well enough on Abafar. She'll be fine here."

"Don't you think this is a bit more dangerous than Abafar, Sir?" Rex posed.

"She's a field officer now, Rex – for the time-being, at least," Anakin replied. "Let her earn her pay."

"Yes, Sir."

The gunship's doors closed. She rose up, hovered a moment, then slid up through the open hangar doors.

The ride down to the surface was less than ten minutes.

This was not a stealth mission, not when the Tralgarians had already been informed it was coming. Chances were that the Separatists, too, now had knowledge. But if they'd moved forces into the area, nothing was showing on the most recent scans.

It was a straight shot to the landing point, a spot only fifty meters due west of what was perceived to be the entrance to the control facility.

The landing was unopposed and the four gunships deposited their passengers and retreated to join Kenobi's forces in the canyon.

Now, the work began.

Now, the fun began.

Dooku watched the closed circuit cameras arrayed before him. It was an impressive setup. The compound on Tralgaria was far more sophisticated than the one on Abafar. But then again, the operation on Abafar had only been in its infancy. It would have still required many years to acquire the proper chemical mixture to begin producing kyber crystals. Each planet's rhydonium was slightly different in its composite makeup; the facility on Abafar had still been in the automated process of determining the exact compounding in order to produce a clean, synthetic crystal. It had been destroyed, apparently inadvertently, before reaching the desired outcome.

The facility on Tralgaria, however, had been producing crystals for months. Mostly small crystals, but recently, there had been some amazing breakthroughs. The facility had recently produced several man-sized crystals. Positive developments, indeed.

Deep within the surrounding mesa, the Separatists had constructed a massive control center in anticipation of when the facility came fully online with the production of the massive crystals needed to power the types of weaponry Dooku had only heard about but never seen.

The facility was empty now, save himself.

And a contingent of 30,000 inactive battle droids of every conceivable make and model. They were stored in over thirty locations throughout the area within and surrounding the facility.

All it would take was the slip of a switch. A command pulse.

The Pergars manning the processing facility to the south had all been evacuated.

Now was the time.

But first . . .

Dooku studied the screens. It was always easy to find General Skywalker among a sea of clones.

"Ah, of course," the Count noted with condescension. "The control center. Always taking the biggest prize for yourself."

He continued to watch. That was when his prize entered into view.

"Very good, very good." He reach his long, spindly fingers over the control board. "First surprise." He flipped one switch. "Second surprise." He flipped another. "And all good things comes in threes."