Author's Note: If you have any tips writing tips, please feel free to comment.

As always, I continue to hope that I am doing justice to the spirit of Star Wars as well the respective authors and characters from which I borrow. Again, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills further as a writer.

Mandalorian (Mando'a) words

Buy'ce (BOO-chay, BOO-shay): helmet; Colloquially: pint, bucket

Di'kut (DEE-koot): idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)

Dinii (DEE-nee): lunatic 

Ika (EE-kah): diminutive suffix written as 'ika - also added to a name as a very familiar or childhood form, e.g, Ord'ika - Little Ordo

Ner vod (nair-vohd): "my brother/sister"; colloquially also "my friend"

Shabuir (SHAH-boo-EER): extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger

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Chapter 36

I always thought they'd be the ones to survive. They thrived on defiance, and our training sergeant, Gan Pohin, spent more time defending them than was tolerated by the other sergeants. Eventually, everyone on Kamino had dubbed them the "Reject Squad." Even I had thought that they might pull off some defiant miracle here on Tochin and walk out of the ashes of Hazar's wreckage. I regret having felt hope for my rival brothers, and I understand a new pain now, the pain of losing those I considered my family.

Clone Commander, CC-2341, "Tarj" discussing his grief with King Vollan Psach

Tochin Moon III, 786 Days ABG

Mouse popped another raw RubyFruit into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as he continued the task of getting what was once a speeder's communications station working. After things had settled down with Dusty's revelation about Denon, Les'ika had taken some time away from the group to find something productive to do. Jas, as always, was faithfully by her side, and when the two of them returned, they had brought with them more RubyFruit and a few handfuls of yellow berries that Jas insisted were delicious despite their tartness.

Mouse still wasn't certain what he thought about the kind of devotion that Jas could so easily exhibit for Les'ika, and he didn't like the idea of narrowing his focus down so tightly to just one person. Then again, Mouse usually was a very narrow man by nature, but there was something liberating to him about working one-on-one with machines and weapons as opposed to sentient beings. Confining himself to any one person left him thinking in terms of claustrophobia. At least with the machinery, he could walk away from it and leave it alone for a while without having to worry about whether his inattention was causing concern for his absence.

Putting the rest of the raw RubyFruit into one of his belt pouches, Mouse decided to indulge himself with the remainder of his treats later. He preferred the fruit cooked, especially after Les'ika had spoiled him with it prepared that way, but there wasn't any sense in making a fire in the early evening. If they decided that they would stay in their current position until the morning, then they would work on a creating fire, and he was certain that the princess would keep herself busy cooking their newfound hoard at that time.

Mouse poked his fingers through the scattered pieces of the communications equipment and knew he had postponed fixing the apparatus for as long as he could, realizing that none of them could stop the inevitable. They were men destined for war, and even though Mouse would be happy somewhere doing general repair work, he knew such a life for him would never be. He just hoped that Jas would adjust back to the life of a soldier as quickly as Dusty had after Denon. In fact, now that Mouse thought about it, he was harder on Dusty earlier today than he needed to be. His brother had never let on that anything had happened that night with Cerina Browlin. In fact, Dusty had returned to the apartment his usual self, not some man so changed that he was unrecognizable. Mouse suddenly wondered how hard that must have been for Dusty, to pretend as though he never experienced a night with a woman. It had to be making him insane on some level for having to endure an experience so personal and not have anyone who could relate to his concerns. Mouse silently reasoned that may be enduring the silence Dusty had for so long had been the cause for why his brother had grown increasingly trigger-happy in the last few months.

Mentally grumbling for allowing his concentration to get further distracted with thoughts that he didn't want to be thinking about, Mouse knew that the gray box before him would never get repaired if he kept daydreaming. Looking at the device, it was no larger than his helmet, and the outside casing made it look like it had been through a war. Ironically, Mouse found that rather funny because, technically, Zech's transport actually was involved in a war, or at least was the result of choosing the opposing side in one. Unfortunately, however, the more Mouse worked on the comm. box, the more he had realized just what a state of disrepair it had been in because of the way detonation charges exploded. Some of the damage he had come across was minor, simple fixes like a couple of the protective sleeves being stripped and shredded away from the wires. There was even a screw that had been bent beyond repair, and Mouse had earlier found alternate ways to remove it so that he could rework the delicate machinery as well as the circuits inside. His attempts to open the dented casing had eventually been successful before their scuttle with Dusty, but now he was beginning to battle against the fading daylight.

Dusk continued rolling into the wooded land and Mouse was ever aware of how it was causing the shadows to grow darker. With the light fading quickly, Mouse now placed his buy'ce on his head, using the zooming capabilities to enhance the smaller details on the components while he had the headlamps activated to brighten his workspace. He knew he had to work even more quickly now before dusk would finally give way to night, and he decided to just hone his thoughts solely onto the equipment before him.

Dusty stayed by Zech, keeping a vigil on the baron, especially now that he had awakened. The traitorous noble had enough sense to realize the predicament he was in and came to the conclusion that if he didn't cooperate, Crimson would just continue to keep him unconscious at their discretion.

Shortly after Zech had awakened, Dusty had dragged him into the woods to allow the baron a few moments to handle his body functions, not out of any respect for the man's dignity, but simply because none of them wanted to be bothered cleaning any messes.

Dusty maintained his dark sense of humor about it all as he and Zech moved through the woods on their "nature walk," jibing that he had uncoordinated feet and he might accidentally trip Zech into a Pallid Viper's nest or slip while he had his gauntlet blade out and how such a cut would attract a Fangbird that they could use to make into another decent meal. Not once did Dusty offer to remove Zech's gag, and no one offered him any of their water or rations. In fact, Dusty went as far as being certain that Zech kept his back to Les'ika at all times and was warned that if he even attempted any eye contact towards her, it would result in far worse treatment than what he had already sustained.

Jas had settled himself into a nook between a couple of trees and some shrubs where the baron had no visual on him. Arlesse had accompanied Jas shortly afterward and sat beside him lost in her own thoughts. The two of them had maintained their distance from the group but remained close enough to be of assistance should Jas be needed. Earlier while they were picking RubyFruit and the yellow berries that Jas had learned were called Tartlets, they savored whatever precious moments they could. Jas asked questions about every plant and animal they came across, hungry to know every facet of Les'ika's world through her eyes. He wanted to remember Tochin as a part of her and not just through what was fed to him in his flash training.

Arlesse, likewise, learned everything she could about Kamino and growing up around identical faces. She even had Jas tell her about the training sergeants, the Mandalorian warriors who made every clone into a soldier. She found herself fascinated by the descriptions of the armor and colors the Mandalorian trainers wore. Jas also told her about the core beliefs in the Mandalorian culture, how family bonds were more than just blood, and it made her understand even more how these soldiers were so devoted to each other. She felt highly privileged for having been able to share in Crimson's tightly woven circle, and she wished she could find some comparable way to thank them for their generosity with her.

Curling herself against Jas' armor, Arlesse, felt a comforting warmth in her chest as Jas' arm encircled her. She felt safe and accepted with him, content in a way she had never known before and as she rested her head against his shoulder cap, Arlesse silently studied the outline of Jas' face. She watched for the child in his eyes and the minute facial expressions that he made while deep in his thoughts. Arlesse knew she had no reason to ever doubt Jas' promise to stay by her side, and now that he had been so true to his words, she believed that he would never walk away from her without putting up a decent fight.

Jas had instinctively wrapped his arm around Les'ika and wondered how he would ever return to war again, holding deadly weaponry rather than the softness and warmth of this young woman. He wondered if she would haunt him during moments when he needed his concentration the most and if he would be able to block out those memories without feeling guilty for doing so. He tried to imagine how he would ever sleep at night without listening to her soft breathing or her sighing while in close proximity. He had grown accustomed to those sounds, intuitively aware of when she was uncomfortable or battling a nightmare, and he was certain that once he and his brothers left Tochin, he would never know any of that again.

Jas was aware of Les'ika watching him, still considering himself fortunate to have experienced the acceptance and compassion bestowed upon him by a civilian. He had no idea how or why they connected, and if he was unsure about other clones experiencing romance, he was certain that he was the only one who had earned the affections of a princess. For a few days, Jas had been important to someone other than his brothers and that was something he would undoubtedly never forget.

Gath moved closer to Mouse now and returned his helmet to his head as well, using his spotlamps to offer additional light. As far as Gath was concerned, Dusty had Zech contained, and there was no sense interfering with Jas and Les'ika. They needed their time to continue their goodbye, and Gath had decided that their ongoing relationship was a war he no longer wanted to take on battling.

Static suddenly broke into the quiet moment, a cascade of crackles and garbles filling the air. Occasionally, something that sounded like a voice would filter through the noise, but it was again drowned out by the static.

Mouse kept adjusting the frequency through the communications box and had even taken a long metal wire and reached it upwards into the low branches above his head, hoping to get better reception.

Mouse flipped a few more switches on the back end of the gray case and pushed another series of buttons when the static finally died down, ebbing like an ocean wave going back out to sea. A man's voice began to grow louder through the speakers, as he was broadcasting a weather report for the local civilians.

Moving another switch and honing in on one of the few frequencies Mouse knew was designated only for clone traffic, he caused the weather reporter to fade. In that man's place came a familiar voice, sharing the same accent that all the clones in the GAR did. The clone sounded as though he was verbally communicating a routine patrol report about the area he was surveying near the palace gates.

Mouse flipped a switch and opened up the two-way communications now. Gath offered no hesitation as he immediately took the initiative to get their message out into the comm. traffic.

"Crimson Squad requesting extraction," Gath reported calmly, "I repeat Crimson Squad requesting extraction."

Jas felt Les'ika tense beneath his grasp, and he swallowed hard. Part of him was hoping that no one would answer, despite the other part of him that knew he had no choice but to return to the GAR.

"Name and rank, soldier," another voice, sounding very much like the clone who was making the report, scolded angrily in response. "Tasteless jokes about the dead are not tolerated."

Arlesse closed her eyes and clutched tightly to Jas' armor now. She felt her heart racing, as there was no denying that the imaginary chronometer had begun ticking faster. She listened to the rest of the conversation that took place between Crimson and the clone soldiers at her father's palace. She concentrated on their exchanges, needing to know how much longer she had with Jas before it would all truly be over.

"You still hold that grudge against Gan, don't you, Tarj? It's not our fault we were just a more personable squad than your do-good riff-raff," Gath replied, the sound of smug satisfaction in his voice as he recognized his estranged brother's voice anywhere. They had both trained under Gan, but Tarj and his men weren't training as commandos. Tarj was created and instructed to be a clone commander rather than be a part of any of the commando squads. He had the fortunate luck that his men were more inclined to obey their orders than Crimson had been. Because of that, Gan didn't spend nearly as much time with Tarj and his men as he had with Crimson, and friendly opposition had built up over the years as Tarj felt a bit slighted by his training sergeant. To make up for Gan's seeming lack of interest in him, Tarj often staged pranks and stupid little nuances for Crimson as a way to try and gain Gan's attention. Strangely, though, Crimson and Tarj found themselves more intertwined as brothers than any of them had planned. Crimson used Tarj's tactics as ways to expect the unexpected and hone their disobedience into inventiveness while Tarj learned to be the unexpected and it helped him to think beyond the traditional war games training that the Kaminoans had loaded into his flash-trained brain.

"You're one sick, shabuir," the voice belonging to Tarj responded, the anger not lessening. There was obvious bitterness in his words that another clone would dare to imitate some of his brothers who had perished nobly in their mission. "You were warned to stop impersonating the dead..."

"Find a superior officer and tell him that the dancing nerf pup took a nap," Gath interrupted, all serious now. "And, the nexu kitten came out of the cave."

There was the sound of a click, followed by a long pause. Collectively, the group held their breath not certain if the silence indicated that they had lost the connection prematurely or if Tarj had cut them off in his anger.

After a long few minutes, however, the communications clicked again, and Tarj's voice burst with emotion as though he was standing right along with them. "Fierfek! You di'kuts! How the hell did you manage to resurrect?"

"Even death rejected the Reject Squad," Dusty said somewhat cheerfully, smiling with satisfaction that apparently the rivalry between Tarj and Crimson had never subsided.

"Well, that definitely sounds like you diniis. I see you're still proud of being the Kaminoan's finest rejects."

"Just remember one-hundred percent, ner vod," Dusty bragged from his position by Zech, trying not to laugh when Tarj called them lunatics. "Last time I checked the status, you were only at ninety-six-point-eight."

"Look, we can debate statistics and tell stories over caf later," Gath cut in, still resenting the "reject" status and how their reputation continued to precede them with it. He thought for certain that after their time apart, even Tarj would have put the past into a different perspective. "Any chance you could get me an extraction for six wets?"

"Six?" Tarj asked, his voice conveying someone who was completely dumbfounded.

Gath's answer was quick. "Five friendlies and one for the interrogation team."

"Well, now, haven't you been productive? I see you're still trying to overachieve your objectives. The question is are you smart enough to get location coordinates for my team?" Tarj said, trying to gently rankle Gath.

"You want a challenge?" Gath responded, rising to Tarj's taunt. "Go ask the locals about the burned down equinine farm. Maybe you'll find someone who remembers where it's located."

"Wait one," Tarj said as silence came over the comm. for a couple moments.

Dusty could imagine Tarj scrambling to find a civilian in his close proximity who could tell him the information he needed in order to do the extraction. He was certain that they had to pull up either an electronic map or find an old flimsi one because there weren't many civilians who could rattle off positioning coordinates, let alone know what positioning coordinates even meant.

After a number of silent minutes had passed, Tarj finally returned and his voice carried an air of relief. "See you in about forty-five minutes, Crimson."

"Crimson, out," Gath finished as Mouse cut the transmission.

"Good old Tarj," Dusty laughed as he began packing up their supplies and making certain that Zech was going nowhere without their assistance. "Never thought we'd see him again after Kamino."

While the others continued chatting in good humor and reminiscing about their days in training, Arlesse looked to Jas and saw him staring at her. For a long moment, neither one could find any words.

"We knew this would happen," he finally said, wondering why his chest felt like it was being crushed under an enormous weight. He should be happy to see Tarj again, and even though he felt no resentment to his brother, he couldn't find anything about the upcoming reunion that made him want to leave this forest.

Arlesse swallowed down the sadness in her throat and curled tighter into Jas, her voice soft. "Please, just hold me until you no longer can."

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