by Jason Fry
“Nice shot,” Rex said, heaving the thing aside.
“You okay, boss?” Jesse asked.
“Never better,” Rex said. Blood filled his mouth, ran down his chin.
They were at the bottom of the stairwell, in front of a locked door. Rex stared at it, conscious of his troopers’ eyes on him.
If the captives were directly on the other side, blowing it open might injure or kill them. But hot-wiring the door would take time — time any guards might use to execute their hostages.
He looked at the Lorrdians. Ap-Orwien shrugged, his face grim.
Sometimes you have to guess, Rex thought.
“Charges,” Rex said. “Watch your targets. Dogma, droid popper.”
They retreated half a flight up to clear the blast area then raced back down as the light and noise of the blast diminished. No tangle of bodies awaited them on the other side. After a desperate second Rex saw the prisoners sitting against the far wall, arms behind their backs. Their eyes were looking…
Rex was firing his pistols before he saw the commando droid above them. Its vibrosword hit the floor point first with a shriek, then pinwheeled across the room, just missing Dafyd’s head. Then the smoking hulk of the commando droid plummeted after it.
“All seven accounted for,” Kix said. “Minimal injuries.”
Rex started to activate his comlink and call the gunship, then hesitated. He pulled his helmet off, wiping at his bloody nose.
“You — Sergeant Palola,” he said. “The granary — how far is it?”
Palola looked up from embracing ap-Orwien and Dafyd.
“A hundred meters at most,” he said.
“And you’re sure that tactical droid is using it as headquarters?”
Palola nodded, face grim. “It interrogated us there.”
Ap-Orwien cocked his head at Rex.
“And here I thought you were a cautious man, Captain,” he said.
“One day I’d like to be,” Rex said. “For now, I want a word with that tac. In person.”
This time, there was no need for fast-roping — the gunship settled onto the muddy plain outside Torrent Company’s forward operating base and the clones hopped down from the deck, the Lorrdians right behind them.
Rex held up the tactical droid’s severed head. He acknowledged the waiting clones’ whoops with a brief nod, then turned to the grinning ap-Orwien.
“Impressive work, Lieutenant,” Rex said. “Everything was as you said it would be.”
“Exactly as Palo said it would be,” ap-Orwien corrected him. “I was just the translator.”
Rex glanced at Palola, who offered a tired smile.
“Well, I wish we had more like you,” Rex said. “That kinetic communication’s a nice piece of work, but you can shoot, too.”
“I wish there were more of us too,” ap-Orwien said. “Despite tonight’s victory, we are outnumbered. The Separatists can make more droids, but we cannot make men.”
His voice trailed off and he looked away, embarrassed.
“No offense meant, Captain,” ap-Orwien said quietly.
“None taken,” Rex said. “We were made to be soldiers, it’s true, but we’re not machines. At least the Jedi don’t regard us that way.”
“May that always be so,” ap-Orwien said, then looked around. “It’s too late for us to get back to our headquarters tonight. Is there somewhere we can sleep?”
“We’d be honored to have you bunk with us, Lieutenant,” Rex said.
“Much appreciated,” ap-Orwien said, then hesitated. “And perhaps you’d like to join us for a few hands of sabacc before we turn in?”
Rex looked from ap-Orwien to Palola. Their faces were blank. Carefully blank, he thought.
Rex shook his head and smiled.
“Sabacc with masters of nonverbal communication? I may be a product of accelerated aging, Lieutenant, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”
EXPANDED UNIVERSE
Star Wars: The Essential Guide to Warfare is out now.
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From Star Wars Insider 139 (03-2013)
11.6.18.15.14.5-1