Index

Index Page - click the links

    Art

Truth or Dare interior

    Book 1

Prologue: Collectors of the Dead

Chapter 1: The Mad, Mandalorian, Musician 

Chapter 2: A Clone in the Cathedral Forest (writing in progress)

Book 1 Chapter 2: A Clone in the Cathedral Forest

 chapter unfinished, writing in progress

~Other Stars~

an alternative timeline Star Wars story

~Book 1 Chapter 2: A Clone in the Cathedral Forest~

    The rain came down in sheets, pounding a steady tattoo on Slade's armor. He tilted his head up towards the gray sky and let the rain cascade over his visor and down his helmet. He looked to be the only soul out in the afternoon downpour, his clone brothers having taken shelter beneath awnings, inside the yawning hangar or within the base proper. They might as well not have bothered. Keeping dry in this humid and rain soaked jungle was nigh impossible. Even the wicking effect of their armor was quickly rendered ineffective. Slade found the rain a pleasant reprieve from swimming in his own sweat.

These cloudbursts never lasted longer than fifteen minutes and already the sky was beginning to brighten when Slade's wrist com crackled into life and he raised his arm to listen. "Slade? Report to the west gate. I'm having you, Marx, and Dodger walk the perimeter."

"Yes, sir." His reprieve from duty was over. The rain had stopped.

The trooper slid off the tarp covered cargo crates he'd been using as a seat and briskly walked across the landing field. All around him the Republic base was returning to life as soldiers hurried from their refuges and got back to work. Earlier that morning two supply shuttles had dropped down from the fleet and offloading could now resume. Slade watched as cargo was quickly shifted towards the hangar and wondered how long the operation on this planet would last. Progress had been slow. They'd arrived over a month ago to put an end to a Separatist mining operation on Tortu while the general’s fleet traded blows with the enemy ships in the region but the density and hostility of the equatorial jungle made it difficult to even find where the enemy was hiding, though their handiwork was all too obvious. The droids had defoliated and burned great swathes of forest in their search for the supposed coaxium mines that had been abandoned for a hundred plus years.

As Slade approached the west facing gate, one of the troopers waiting there waved to him. “And here he is, the resident drowned rat.”

Slade saluted as he arrived. “Sergeant Hound.”

The troopers all wore white armor that they were allowed to decorate with their legion's color however they chose. As every Republic soldier was a clone from a single genetic donor, they relished using their gear as a canvas to express their individuality. The results were a motley of designs and patterns painted in the 212^th Legion's bold orange. The sergeant's helmet, for example, sported a toothy animal motif.

“I can't figure why you enjoy being soaked to the skin so much.”

“Aw, lay off sarge,” said Marx, a trooper with a diagonal orange slash across his visor. “Slade doesn't have a waterfall handy to meditate under so the rain's the next best thing.”

Slade chuckled along with the other troopers. His own armor was a bit of an anomaly, having been left mostly blank.

“Alright boys, you know the drill,” said the sergeant. “I'll head north with Ajax and Bounce. We'll meet you three at east gate. Don't let the routine lull you. You know what happened to Nip. No way that forest srog should have gotten close enough to pounce. Nip's lucky he ended up with nothing worse than a chewed up arm so keep alert.” Thus warned, the two parties walked through the gate, its solid armored bulk sliding shut behind them, and parted ways.

Beyond the perimeter wall the jungle had been cut back nine meters and the ground covered in cement. A necessary extravagance to help keep the fast growing plants at bay and to protect the exposed soil. The frequent heavy rains rapidly washed away the dirt and risked undermining the wall. Every couple of days it needed to be inspected for washouts.

“Hey, Slade. Does it seem to you that the wildlife has been getting inquisitive lately?” asked Marx.

“We've been here long enough for our novelty to wear off. It would make sense some of the predators are growing bolder.” Slade answered in a distracted manner. Clearing away a patch of jungle in which to build their base had exposed the new forest edge to unobstructed sunlight. The resultant explosion of plant growth now formed an impenetrable wall of tangled greenery surrounding the Republic fortification. As he walked along, Slade's focus was on the tree line, not simply out of dutiful attentiveness, but also rapt fascination.

When the first explorers had surveyed this planet, they called the vast sea of trees that banded the equator in an unbroken ring the “Cathedral Forest of Tortu”. The trees could soar to preposterous heights with trunks as thick as buildings and when the light passed through the leaves, like stained glass, it dappled the ground in a thousand shades of green. The Republic soldiers had dubbed the jungle with a less flattering name: “The Green Hell”. Either way, before coming to Tortu, Slade had never seen anything like it.

He'd grown up accustomed to the pristine sterility of the white halls and rooms of Tipoca City on Kamino, and from there the utilitarian spaces within the Republic's warships. Here, life ran riot in innumerable forms. Slade felt himself drawn to the wall of greenery that edged the cement barrier, wanting to know what lay beyond as his senses were saturated by a dizzying cornucopia of sights, sounds and smells. Which, he reminded himself with a bit of grim humor, would be a good way to die horribly.

“I'll be glad to head inside. The environmental controls in my armor are just barely making this sweat box tolerable.”

“Now, now, Dodger. I think you're just tired of smelling yourself. If it's any consolation, I'm tired of smelling you too,” said Marx.

“Hardy har har.” Dodger, whose armor sported vertical stripes on the arms, turned around to check in on Slade who was trailing a step behind. “Woolgathering, brother?”

“Nah.” Slade turned his head forward then gestured with his chin towards a point ahead. “Looks like a washout.”

The other two troopers looked. They were approaching the southwest corner of the wall. Before the corner itself they could see a patch of the cement walk had collapsed near the jungle edge. The broken area was a good two meters long and half as wide.

“Looks like tree sprouts grew right up through the cement.” Dodger walked up to the edge of the rift and knelt, resting his rifle on his knee. “Broke the cement up enough the rain could wash a big hole in the mud for the pieces to fall into. Deepest point looks around twelve centimeters.”

“And that crack is halfway to the wall,” said Marx. “This one's going to need immediate repair before it becomes a major problem.”

As the two clones assessed the damage, Slade watched the trees. His eye was caught by the brief shaking of a branch in the canopy. “Above!”

Slade had barely called out the warning before a srog dropped from the branches above and landed heavily on the space Dodger had occupied. The clone dove to the side, rolling from his shoulder into a crouch. The brown and green scaled creature barely had a chance to snarl at him before he shot it in the throat. It reared onto its hind legs, flailing its long arms and coughed before falling over backwards to lie still. Slade and Marx had backed away from the forest edge and were scanning the trees with their rifles at the ready, but no further threats appeared.

The three clones looked down at the deceased srog. Standing fully erect, it would reach about half their height. It had short bowed legs and long muscular arms and a wide, frog-like mouth stretching across a flat face. A mouth that they knew from Nip's unfortunate experience was full of very long, sharp teeth.

“Yeah, I think you two are right about them getting bolder,” said Dodger.

*****

    The base was too small to spare room for an assembly area. Even meals were eaten in shifts and so Slade's company was in the dining hall when Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi addressed his troops from the bridge of his flagship. Slade and his fellow soldiers all stood at ease, facing the large holoscreen at the front of the room as the general spoke.

“As always, I must begin by expressing my gratitude for the hard work and diligence of every soldier serving in this campaign. Tortu’s environment has proven especially challenging and I doubt many of you appreciate the daily sauna. Your fortitude in the face of both discomfort and danger is admirable.”

“Now to begin I would like to address your concerns over 'jungle fever'. We do not yet have a targeted antibiotic for this disease, however, I can happily confirm that while unpleasant, it is not deadly. Symptomatic treatment has proven effective for dealing with the disease's effects and immediate treatment shortens the duration by at least a couple days. It has also proven not to be transmissible between people so quarantine of our patents has been lifted. You all know the symptoms by now so please, report to the medical lab at the first sign of a fever or dry mouth.”

“Next, I would like to confirm an increase in reports of aggressive wildlife. Not that the local fauna, or flora for that matter, lacked in aggression before, but attacks near the base have been increasing. Please remember that we are the invaders and do your best to avoid antagonizing territorial animals like the srogs and jaggun. That said, your own safety and that of your fellow soldiers is your priority.”

“Now, on to the main business. Separatist forces have been confirmed in the rift valley to the southwest of our base. We will be expanding our operations into that area and increasing patrols along the valley edge. Please see your captains for orders. We also know that the native Hylee people are somewhere in that region. They have been staying clear of the fighting but with droids spread throughout the jungle, it would be far too easy to mistake your target. Take the utmost care before discharging any weapon.”

“Again, I thank you for your service. The Separatists have been elusive, but they can't hide from us forever. I have confidence that you’ll be rooting out their stronghold soon.”

Kenobi's face faded away and the holoscreen went dark. Time to get down to the business of dinner. A new supply delivery meant fresh food and the chow line quickly formed around the buffet. Slade carried his laden tray to the nearest open seat. He was familiar with most of the men in his company but knew few of them very well, something they would likely say about him too. He didn't exactly hold himself aloof from his brothers, he simply never felt like he had much to say. Digging into his pasta, Slade concentrated on listening to the conversations around him.

“So, how soon's soon do you think?” asked a trooper down the table from him.

“In the Green Hell? Without better navigation the jungle will swallow us and the droids before we find their nest.”

“The general's still optimistic about getting help from the natives.”

“How do you get help from a people not interested in even talking to you? They vanish as soon as anyone stumbles across'em.”

Across from him Slade's table mates were also engaged in a grim conversation. “So 'Jungle Fever' isn't fatal but who knows what else is out there? As a soldier I'm prepared to go down fighting the Sepies. I'm a bit less keen to the idea of wasting away to some unknown sickness, or getting eaten alive by tree vermin, swarms of insects, or a damn plant for that matter.”

“I seem to be hearing an awful lot of whining coming from this table.”

Startled, everyone at the table looked up. Captain Strapp was standing near, giving them all an unreadable look.

“Ah, sorry, sir,” said the trooper that had been speaking. “We're just a bit frustrated is all.”

“No worries, trooper. What's more, I know a good remedy for frustration: a bit of hard work. Tomorrow at oh six hundred I want everyone at this table to report to the landing field. You can join the squads heading for Falling Tree Point and assist them in their trail blazing efforts down in the valley. Any objections?”

“No, sir!” chorused the troopers at the table.

“Excellent. A little exercise should get your minds off your troubles.” The captain walked on and the clone who'd been speaking hunkered down under the glares of his fellows.

Slade picked a poma up off his tray and bit into the mildly sweet fruit. He was probably the only trooper at the table not upset at the unexpected assignment. He'd been wanting a closer look at the jungle but thus far hadn't been assigned duties that took him away from the base. If nothing else, tomorrow should satisfy some of his curiosity.

*****

 

    “Slade? I wasn't expecting to see you along with these malcontents.”

“Wrong place at the wrong time I'm afraid.” Slade clasped Dodger's hand in greeting.

“Sorry to hear it. Should be a fair bit more interesting than walking the perimeter at least. C'mon, you can tag along with my squad. Sarge is already aboard the transport.”

Four squads had been assigned to begin the process of establishing routes through the rift valley with Slade's table mates adding to their force. Slade accepted the greetings of Marx and Bounce as he followed Dodger. The last of the men piled aboard the pot-bellied LAAT. The doors slid shut and the ship launched itself into the air. At the front of the ship stood Sergeant Hound, helmet tucked under his arm.

“Listen up everybody! We'll be landing at Falling Tree Point. The view into the valley from there is spectacular. Drink it in because once you're down in it you won't be seeing further than a meter in front of your nose. As dense as the canopy is, the undergrowth is still thick. I understand we have some guests with us today and I hope you boys remember your briefings from when we first arrived, but here's a quick refresher. If you see a plant with small white or pale green leaves, don't touch it. If it's got thorny vines growing across the ground, don't touch it. If it's covered in hair-like spines, don't touch it. And for pity's sake, if it's got animal carcasses and bones piled up underneath of it, don't touch it! A lot of the undergrowth in the darkest parts are either fungal or carnivorous. Keep your helmets on unless given the all clear. Some of the fungal spores will send you on a real bad trip if you breathe them in and I don't feel like carrying anybody home.”

“Now, our goal today is to carve a path all the way to the lake where we will establish a beachhead. We don't know how thick the droids are in this area, only that they are indeed active in this region. Be prepared.”

“Sir?”

“Go ahead, Slade.”

“What should we do if we encounter the Hylee?”

“No hostile action towards the natives. They've been avoiding us so far but historical data says that they can be aggressive, though apparently not without warning. If we do have a confrontation we back off and call it in. The general himself will likely want to shuttle in and try talking to them personally. Any other questions?” Silence from the men. “Good, we'll be landing in three.”

Falling Tree Point was so named for an immense tree growing at the cliff's edge. Part of the rock beneath its base had broken away and now the tree leaned precariously out over the valley. The Republic army had established a small outpost here where a switchback trail gave them access to the jungle below. Here the troop carrier landed, discharging its passengers.

As they got off, they gathered near the cliff's edge. Slade took in the panorama below. The sergeant hadn't exaggerated, the view was indeed spectacular. The valley was a vast elliptical emerald with a glistening sapphire set at its center. The lake was long and narrow and most likely very deep. They marched single file down the cliff face. Thankfully the trail was sound and wide enough that one didn't feel he was about to plummet to his death. The trail ended on a slab of stone at the cliff's base, affording the soldiers a final look at the jungle before plunging into it.

Sergeant Hound surveyed the undergrowth. “Eyes on me, newcomers. The troopers with the poles are the trail breakers. The men following are on guard. Squad after that use their vibroblades to cut everything left down to the ground to make a clean path. Last squad is rearguard. I want three of you to join the cleanup crew, one with the troopers guarding the front and one with the rear. We'll switch up the roles periodically so everyone gets a bit of a rest. We’ll start by clearing a drop off zone here.”

The four troopers armed with vibroblades affixed to long poles stepped forward and started them off, thinning out the plants and carving away at anything above low enough to reach. The squad guarding them held their rifles at the ready in case the prodding poles scared up something dangerous. They also kept watch above. Clones were still human and humans tended to ignore what went on over their heads, a bad habit in this three dimensional environment where surprisingly large animals moved through the lower canopy.

Slade stayed with Dodger, Marx, Bounce, and Hound. Their squad started off as rear guard before swapping with the cleanup crew an hour later. It was slow going hard labor, but Slade found a certain tranquility to the repetitive work and immediate satisfaction every time he looked along their back trail and saw the clean path. It had been cleared wide enough for three men to walk abreast without brushing their shoulders. Wide enough that the equipment and materials they'd need to build a small fortified presence down in the valley could be transported through the jungle. It was easy to fall into a rhythm cutting back the plants and every now and then Marx or Dodger would tap Slade's shoulder to remind him to take a drink of water from his canteen.

The going had been smooth. Twice, the noise of their approach sent something large crashing away through the undergrowth and so far they'd only encountered one dangerous plant. Down where the light didn't reach, much of the jungle's flora had evolved to find nutrients in other ways. Some lived parasitically off of the massive trees, digging their roots past the armoring bark to find the living wood beneath and drawing in the fluids of the tree. Others trapped insects or small animals, to slowly break them down with digestive enzymes. A few were capable of paralyzing and liquefying surprisingly large animals. The vampiric vine, covered in countless hairlike, hollow spines that was draped in loops across their path was dealt with easily enough. Disturbingly, it bled red blood as the soldiers cut it to pieces with their vibroblades. Carefully scooping the lengths of vine up with their knives, the clones cast the pieces into the brush as far as they could throw them before moving on.

Already the filters in Slade's armor were struggling with the saturated air and he badly wanted to pull his helmet off to wipe the sweat off his face. At least it wasn't particularly hot this deep in the shade. Slade straightened up to stretch his back and looked up. The multi-layered canopy was a mosaic of green patches with the occasional spot of brilliant color from some tropical flower or fruit, or the flickering of a bird's wing. He watched the silhouettes of a troop of animals leap from branch to branch as they sped past a good twenty meters above.

“Looks like we got something swarming here,” called out one of the men with the poles.

“Chem tanks forward,” said the sergeant.

Two of the men carried chemical tanks strapped to their backs instead of the standard issue backpack. The front rank moved back to give them space to spray a potent insect repellent. The clones' armor were also doused in it to keep the biting pests at bay. The troopers hosed down the foliage, smothering the bugs they doused and sending the rest scattering away, filling the area with a strong minty-peppery smell. The smell penetrated the troopers’ helmet filters enough to cause some of them to sneeze.

“Alright, take five to let that clear out.” Sergeant Hound held up his hand and a small hologram representing the region's topography appeared above his palm. “Looks like we're approaching the halfway point. We'll clear out a larger area in a bit to rest and eat. After that, if we keep the present pace, it should take less than three hours to reach the lake.”

Twenty minutes later, they cut a circular area out of the jungle for their camp and sprayed it down for good measure. After it passed inspection eight troopers were assigned guard duty in two shifts so everybody would have a chance to sit, relax and eat. A long tree root offered something akin to a low bench and Slade sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him, wiped at his face now that he was finally free of his helmet and took a deep breath. No longer buffered by the filters, the smells of the jungle were pungent and rich in variety. Slade could immediately pick out the scent of decaying leaves, damp earth, fermenting fruit, and the heady lavender-esque aroma likely coming from a cluster of orange flowers overhead, growing parasitically from the side of a tree. Each bloom two hand-spans across.

There was a bit of low chatter, but most of the men didn't feel like talking. Instead they focused on stretching stiff muscles and digging into their packs to pull out their MREs. Slade tore his open and started in on a dense fruit and grain bar, happy to close his eyes and enjoy the companionable presence of his brothers in silence. As Slade chewed, he noticed a new set of sounds emanating around them.

The jungle was never quiet. Despite the noise of the clones chopping their way through the forest, a steady cacophony of animal calls had come from the trees above. Now that the men were still, however, small creatures living in the undergrowth began to chirp and sing, adding their voices to the chorus.

Slade listened to the sounds around him as he slowly finished the ration bar, then dug into the MRE bag for a cup of instant noodles. As he pulled out his hand he paused and it took him a second to identify what he felt was wrong. The chirping in the undergrowth had stopped. Slade sat up straight, then reached for helmet and rifle just as one of the men on sentry duty made a soft “hsst” noise. No dramatic action was taken. The troopers sitting around the clearing calmly retrieved their blasters and slipped on their helmets as the sentry pushed his way into the surrounding greenery, using his rifle to part the plants.

“Droid ambush!” yelled the sentry, firing his rifle even as blaster bolts pelted the clearing. Slade somersaulted forward towards the shelter of the undergrowth. All of the men were scrambling for cover. Out of the corner of his eye, Slade saw Dodger dive away from a shot only to be hit by another and crash to the ground. Then the surrounding plant life cut off his vision as he ran a few paces before stopping and crouching. After the brief flurry of action, everything had gone quiet again. Now under cover, the men would stay low to the ground and hunt for the droids.

The blaster fire that rained down on the clearing had only come from one direction, meaning the droids likely hadn’t fully surrounded them. Moving as quietly as possible, Slade pushed his way through the tangle of undergrowth while listening for the telltale whirrs and clicks of a battle droid’s mechanical joints.

The machine soldiers of the Separatist Alliance were not especially intelligent and primarily relied on numbers to overwhelm their enemy. The fact that the droids hadn’t simply rushed the camp made him wonder if this was a relatively small group that had stumbled across them. Blaster fire went off somewhere to his left and he heard the sound of droids in motion, converging on that point. Slade risked standing to take a quick peek and was able to pick off two of them before having to duck back into cover and hastily crawl to a new location as the plants he’d been sheltering near were peppered. He could hear furtive movement around him; his fellow clones as they sought new positions in this deadly game of hide and seek.

The droids tended to simply spray blaster fire towards any noise or movement and it was easy to bait them with a tossed stone or stick, but they did eventually learn and that trick lost its usefulness. Time seemed to crawl, swinging from long stretches of silence to short bursts of shooting as both sides tried to flush the other out of hiding. In truth, no more than a few minutes had passed. Slade knew base command was alerted to the attack and figured the droids had called for help. He would rather deal with the situation now than see whose backup arrived first. They needed a decoy. Somebody to get the enemy to break cover and draw their fire.

Slade raised his head a little to survey the area ahead. The trunk of a massive tree would afford him shelter if he could get to it fast enough and his thrashing through the undergrowth as he went should draw plenty of attention. Slade raised his wrist com to his mouth to risk whispering a code word, only to have it surprise him as someone else softly spoke the phrase “chookie run”. Apparently, he hadn’t been the only one to come up with the decoy plan. He tensed and waited.

A short distance away Sergeant Hound burst from cover and crashed through the brush towards a different giant tree. All around droids popped up from hiding and the shooting and running began, turning the game from deadly hide and seek to lethal tag.

The clones chased down their targets. Slade was having a bit of trouble with his. He could hear it thrashing its way through the brush but he couldn't see it and was mindful of being lead too far from his comrades. As he ran after the droid, Slade spotted a fallen branch thicker than his own torso, hopped on top of it to get a look over the greenery and finally spotted his droid. Two shots and it was down. Holding his position, Slade took a moment to orient himself. He'd gone a bit of distance from the others but he could hear them off to his left. He dropped down from the branch, but where he expected to land on the ground his feet met only thin air and he fell into a hidden hollow almost as deep as he was tall.

Slade yelped as he fell, hitting the uneven ground in the deep rut, he sprawled awkwardly in the dirt, banging his elbow against a tree root in the process. Far worse, he felt a prick at the back of his knee where his armor did not reach and in an instant, he couldn't move. He couldn't even blink his eyes, much less call for help.

“I'm in trouble,” his thoughts were strangely sluggish and where a feeling of panic, or at least fear should be rising, there only came an all-consuming lethargy, followed by darkening vision, then oblivion.

*****

 

    “It has fallen into a thorn trap.”

This was not the first time the Star Travelers had fought each other, but the “Republics” usually carried off their dead and wounded. They must not have known this one was here.

The hunters had heard the fighting. They had stayed high and quiet long after the noise had ceased. Only once they were sure the Strangers were gone did they come down to inspect the aftermath.

“After it dies, the Republic's shell will make it hard for the thorn trap to feed off the decay,” said one of the hunters as he eyed the Stranger impassively.

Arsoo raised her crest. “Are we not going to pull it free?”

The other three were her seniors and she felt her crest flatten as they turned their eyes towards her inquisitively. With an effort, she raised it again and lifted her head higher. “We would not leave one of our own to die so.”

“It is not one of our own.” This from Hashrah, the eldest and most experienced of the Hreeshal Village hunters.

Arsoo kept her crest erect. She had decided to speak for the Stranger and would stand her ground. “It is not a simple animal either, Hashrah'shesh.” She said respectfully. “They are not of The People, but they are a people of another sort.”

“True, but these Star Travelers have given The People trouble in the past, and here they are once again causing havoc and destruction.”

“But has this one done us harm? Should this one be punished for the wrongs wrought by others simply because it is of their kind?”

“An interesting question. I would say no it should not be punished, but does that mean we owe it an effort?”

Arsoo resisted the desire to huff through her nasal sac. Hashrah would turn this into a philosophical debate. She needed to bring the discussion to more practical ends.

“Would it not be a benefit to the village if we aided this one?”

“Oh? How so?” said Hashrah with interest.

“We could question it, if we learn why they are here, perhaps we can learn what will make them leave.”

Hashrah chuckled at this causing Arsoo to add to her argument. “Is it not recorded in the memory weaving that befriending a Star Traveler is what aided The People in sending them away the last time they came here to cause trouble?” She said feeling a bit piqued.

Vhooth, who had spoken earlier, now joined in. “This is so. Yet, we can not assume cooperation. It is also true that the Republics have approached people from other villages but their intentions were not trusted.”

Arsoo pounced. “Then all the more reason to help this one. It would owe us a debt and could help us form an understanding.”

“So certain you are, but strange minds produce strange thoughts. It may not see things as you suggest,” said Hashrah. “However,” she held up her hand to forestall Arsoo's response. “Wisdom speaks from the mouth of hatchlings,” said the elder with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. Simply possessing this Stranger may give us leverage.”

The older the elder, the more they treated their juniors as if they were still covered in egg slime and shell fragments, or so it seemed. Arsoo maintained her poise in the face of Hashrah's teasing but dearly wished the elders would act with greater urgency. “Please, let us pull it free before it is too late.”

Hashrah finally took pity on her apprentice. “Yes, we shall free it from the thorn trap, but be mindful that it may already be too late.” She said by way of gentle warning. “We do not know if our medicines for clearing away the thorn trap's poisons will work on a Stranger. We will bring it to the healer and see what may be done.”

Arsoo bowed her head in acceptance. The four hunters reached for the hooked pole tool they carried strapped to their backs and used it to reach down into the hollow. They deftly snagged the Stranger's limbs and lifted it free of the pit.

The Stranger was not especially heavy, but it was awkward to carry. Its body was long and gangly. If Arsoo stretched to her full height, the top of her head would only come to the base of its neck, and she was not small for her people. Since she had expressed the most interest in it, she had been given charge of it. Thankfully, as she was Hashrah's pupil, Hashrah also judged it to be her interest as well and helped Arsoo with the clumsy burden.

They switched back and forth between routes through the lower branches of the trees and the ground as was safest and easiest with the bulk of the Stranger, and Arsoo was happy when they finally reached the valley edge. They had not headed directly for the village. Old Shaheth would not be there this time of the season. He and his three apprentices would be up in the herb caves. As they approached the cliffs, the ground sloped gently upward and became rockier. The forest thinned out and was replaced by scrubbier trees and low brush broken up by large, flat slabs of stone. Few large animals hunted here, though wandering juggun would occasionally brave the open spaces. The Hylee kept alert, but few predators would try to take on one of their kind, much less a group in the open.

To reach the herb caves, one needed to climb up a series of massive rock shelves that formed a grand staircase along the base of the curving southwest rim of the valley. Across the top step was the broad entrance cave that split into three tunnels. According to Healer Shaheth, in ages long past, water ran through these tunnels, and was why they were full of sand. Now, however, they were the driest places in the valley, even during flood season.

Once past the cave mouth, Arsoo could feel the humidity steadily drop the further back they went. They had taken the right most tunnel, as the others were not as deep and used for storage. They walked quite a distance before the tunnel lead to the space the old healer worked in. The way was dark, periodically lit by strategically placed firebristle planted in large clay pots.

As they reached the tunnel's end, it opened up into a proper large cave. It was difficult to see just how large it was, however, by the innumerable sheets of drying leaves, berries, and other bits of herbage hanging like curtains from ropes strung across the ceiling obstructing the view. The room was quite cluttered by grinding wheels, large clay vats and jars, baskets, wax sealed pots and wooden furniture. The dry air prevented the rot and mold typical of the humid jungle and made the caves ideal for preservation. Pots with firebristle were set all over, making it a well-lit space, but Arsoo saw no one as the hunters approached.

“Hail and greetings, healer. A hunting party from Hreeshal Village has come seeking you,” called out Hashrah.

“And what brings a hunting party here? No one severely injured I hope,” came the reply from somewhere in the back of the cave.

“An injury yes, but not one of us. We have brought you a Stranger, Shaheth. One of the Republics.”

A moment of silence followed this pronouncement then four heads popped out from behind a stack of reed bundles. Three of them were the smooth young faces of the healer's students and the fourth bore Shaheth's deeply wrinkled snout.

“A Stranger?” He peered across the room and spied the alien figure Arsoo carried draped over her shoulder. “Well, well indeed!”

The healer quickly rose and limped around the bundles. His apprentices also made to come see but he waved them back in a vague manner. “Finish stripping those reeds first. You can come over to gawk after you are done with that pile.” The three settled back down, sniffing humorously as their master became absorbed in this unusual patient.

Shaheth's left leg was scarred and he was missing half the foot. He was perfectly capable of hobbling around on it but preferred to drop to all fours if he was in a hurry, and hurry he did towards the longest work bench in the room. He swept the various projects scattered on its surface into a basket and waved the group over. “Quick now, lay it here and tell me what ails the creature,” he said, his long tail flicked about in excitement before he primly curled it around his bad leg.

Arsoo carefully hefted the creature onto the table and laid it flat. “It fell into a thorn trap, Shaheth'lii.”

“Where was it stung? Let me see.”

“The back of the right knee, I think,” answered Hashrah as she helped Arsoo roll the Stranger onto its side.

Arsoo watched as the old healer brushed his knuckles across the Republic's glossy black skin then gasped as he hooked his claws into it and tore it open.

“Be at ease young one,” he said without looking up from his examination. “That was a false skin, something akin to a hide it is wearing as we might wear a string of beads or ceremonial skirts.”

“Oh.” None of the elders had reacted so and she hoped they did not notice her embarrassment.

Shaheth pressed the black material back exposing the light olive skin beneath and a large purplish red welt.

He sniffed it. “Hmm.” He pressed his eye close. “Hmm.” He gave it an experimental squeeze. “Hmm. First things first.” Shaheth switched his examination from the wound to the white shell that covered the Republic's thigh. He tugged at it and picked at it with his claws, looking it all over before exclaiming “Ah'ha!” triumphantly and pulled it loose then set it aside.

Arsoo again found herself surprised, though this time she kept her composure. It had not occurred to her that the Republic's hard shell was not part of it, so closely did it fit the creature's body. She watched in fascination as the old healer began working on the pieces that encased the lower half of the leg. He muttered to himself as he steadily unlocked it like a puzzle box.

“Rather elegant contraption. More villagers should travel during flood season, go see the waterwheels along the Hlea River or take in the pulley bridge across Whiss Gorge. I was all over the place in my youth, you know. New sights and experiences expand the mind.” He said as he slid off the false shell encasing the creature's shin and foot.

The elder hunters all listened politely as Shaketh rattled on and Arsoo copied their detached demeanor, even as she absorbed his words. Shortly, the three healer apprentices joined them, keeping clear of their master as he worked, craning their long necks to better see the novel creature.

“Thith, Flo, Ashfeath, about time. I'll be needing clear water and bandages, honey poultice, put on a pot to boil for the thorn trap antidote. Open a fresh mixture, drinking bowl. And a crystal blade, this black material is difficult to tear.” Shaheth never took his eyes off his work as he set the three darting about the cave. He cut a larger hole in the false skin and carefully squeezed the ugly welt. Arsoo watched a tiny black barb poke up from its center. The healer pinched it between his claws and pulled it out. “Thorn tip,” he said and disposed of it by flicking it into the pot of a nearby firebristle. He then pinched the welt more deeply and yellow puss poured out causing Arsoo to wrinkle her snout at the sour smell.

“Infection most always follows such a wound.” Thith handed him a small bowl of water and he washed the puss away, repeating the process until a spot of red blood appeared instead of the yellow fluid. He then slathered the welt with a poultice that smelled both sweet and sharp and wrapped the knee in bandages. “Good for now. A small wound can become a big problem if left untreated, as I know all too well. Now let's roll our creature onto its back and see if we can wake it up.”

Once that was done, Shaheth tugged experimentally at its head, then pulled off the encasing shell. Even the elder hunters set aside their inscrutability in favor of open curiosity as they leaned forward to see the Stranger's face. It was, well, it was ugly. It lacked a Hylee's elegant muzzle, or any muzzle at all. Its face was as flat as a srog's, though with a much narrower mouth. Its most prominent feature was a curious fleshy hood that covered the nostrils and projected outward like a small beak. It had large eyes like a Hylee, though spaced more closely together. It even had soft springy quills on its head, though they covered the entire head minus the face, unlike a Hylee's narrow crest or the ruff that encircled the throat of a male.

“Thinner, but taller...” Shaheth muttered. “A full dose I think.” He pressed his head to its chest and listened, then pried one of its eyes open to look at the pupil. “If this were one of The People I'd say its life rhythms were strong and healthy. I dislike assuming but there is little else we can do.” Flo had set the healer's implements onto the table and Ashfeath brought a pot of boiling water he carefully poured into the drinking bowl. Shaheth scooped a precise measurement of ground leaves into the bowl then covered it to steep. A few minutes later he removed the lid and skimmed the leaves off with one hooked claw, the water had turned a deep yellow green, then he blew into the bowl to cool it.

“I warn you all, this may not work.”

He dipped one claw into the potion, spread it across the Stranger's lips and watched. Arsoo did not know what the old healer was looking for, but he seemed satisfied after a few moments. “All right then. Let's pour it in and try not to drown our creature in the process.”

Even taking great care in positioning the bowl's spout into its mouth, the Republic coughed and sputtered sending a bit of the potion spilling down its chin, but they were able to get the Republic to drink most of it.

“Good enough. If there are to be any results to see, they won't be immediate,” said the healer.

The hunters nodded and Hashrah spoke. “Most of the day is gone, but we could probably catch a few veeroo coming out of their holes since we are here. Arsoo, would you join us or stay with the Stranger?”

“You have made it my charge, Hashrah'shesh. I will stay and await the outcome.” She said formally.

Hashrah did not spoil the dignity her young and eternally serious protégé' by chuckling. She simply ducked her head in acknowledgment. “Very well. We will return with the sunset rain. Healer Shaheth? Would it be all right if we camped here for the night? I would rather not travel to the village after dark.”

“Of course, of course. We will have a meal ready and pull out extra bedding.”

Hashrah bowed and lead the hunters back down the tunnel.

*****

 

    Sound was the first thing to penetrate the darkness that had swallowed his mind. Slade could hear whispery voices and people moving around. Then a strong medicinal smell filled his nostrils, but he was quite sure he wasn’t lying on a bed in the base’s medical lab. Gradually more sensation returned, and he found he was able to move his fingers and toes. Was he missing his right boot?

The surface under him felt like wood. He wasn’t restrained but he kept still as he tried to piece together what had happened. He remembered joining the trail clearing crew, and the droid ambush. He’d chased a droid and shot it, then he’d fallen. That was where his memory ended. Now he was in a cool dry room with people around him and he didn’t seem to be a prisoner. Or at the least, not a prisoner of the Separatists. He doubted the droids would have done anything other than kill him. Nothing more to be done now than take a look at his situation.

Slade cautiously opened his eyes and was greeted by a very long inhuman face quite close to his own staring back at him with wide, intelligent eyes. The eyes widened further and the face quickly pulled away as the creature, a Hylee almost certainly, turned and made a soft “hooing” sound. In another moment, four more of the natives appeared. They did not surround him nor approach too closely, but they did stand watching him quietly and Slade felt they were waiting for him to do something.

Slade slowly levered himself up to brace himself with his elbows, only to wince from a sharp pain in the right hand one as he vaguely recalled striking it during his fall. He leaned to his left and sat the rest of the way up, cradling his right arm. One of the Hylee appeared much older than the others, if wrinkles were anything to go by, and moved a step closer, gesturing towards Slade’s arm. Still cradling it, Slade held it out as if offering it. The older Hylee gently took it and plucked at the cloth of the body glove.

“Ah, can’t exactly examine it through the armor.”

The Hylee tilted its head back and forth at the sound of his voice and released his arm. Slade took a moment to look around as he opened the catches on his armor. He was in a dry cave with a sandy floor, filled with junk and enough plant life hanging from the ceiling to qualify as its own forest. His leg was bandaged and he recognized what looked like a mortar and pestle and a roll of bandages on a nearby bench. He doubted he was in the Hylee equivalent of a hospital, but it seemed possible that the old native might be the Hylee equivalent of a medic. Taking care not to move his elbow, Slade pulled off his glove and rolled up the sleeve.

Again, the old Hylee took Slade's arm, examining the obvious bruise that had spread across the joint. He carefully prodded the elbow until the clone winced again then lisped something to one of the others who were intently watching. The Hylee spoken to pulled a jar out of a basket and presented it to the medic who in turn pulled the lid off the top and held it out for Slade to see. It was filled with a white cream that smelled somewhat floral and minty. Slade didn't object and the Hylee slathered it across the bruise. It felt very cold and had an immediate numbing effect. The native then wrapped his arm up in a neat bandage and looped a sling over his shoulder.

As the Hylee went about its ministrations, Slade examined the creature and its fellows. No two were the same color. The medic was a faded shade of maroon. The three who clustered near it were rusty orange, green, and tan, and the one who held itself slightly apart was cobalt blue. They all had a short mohawk of hair or feathers on the tops of their heads and three of them, including the medic, also had a mane covering the neck. Equine heads, broad across the brow, tapered to narrow muzzles that ended in small flat beaks.

Their bodies were compact with broad heavily muscled shoulders and arms long enough to hang down to their knees. As the medic neatly wrapped a bandage around Slade’s arm, the clone could see it possessed three long dexterous fingers and a human-like opposable thumb, all tipped with short curved claws. The Hylee’s legs were relatively short. Their four toes splayed out and were also equipped with claws. The cursory report on them described them as semi-arboreal and Slade figured their long flexible tails were prehensile. Finally, they didn't seem to have much use for clothing aside from some decoration and pouches.

About the time the Hylee medic finished bandaging Slade's arm, three more of the natives entered the cave.

Arsoo had been intently watching Shaheth interact with the Stranger when she felt a presence behind her and turned to see her teacher had returned with the other hunters. Hashrah arched one brow ridge at her and nodded towards the Stranger.

“All goes well?”

“Yes, 'shesh.”

“It has not behaved with fear or aggression?”

“Not at all. It has been very docile and cooperative and even though it does not speak, it picks up meaning very quickly. Or at least, Shaheth’lii had no trouble getting it to understand him.”

“Most promising. If it remains so, we will bring it before the village council. For now, we have had some luck hunting,” said Hashrah as Vhooth and Haja held up three plump veeroo. “Help us skin them. We will add them to whatever the healers offer and make a feast of it.”

The Shaheth's apprentices cleared space to put down enough mats for everyone to sit and produced a generous spread of fresh and dried fruits, a basket of honeycombs, fresh greens, sliced roots, a pot of tea, and even a tray of dried fish. The creature's legs proved to be quite wobbly and Arsoo and Ashfeath supported it over to a mat and helped it to sit. It was quite willing to try most of the foods, though it would not touch the cuts of veeroo.

Hashrah bit into the tangy purple flesh of a vithi fruit and watched the Stranger without seeming to pay any attention to it, an old hunter's trick. The creature was very polite. It observed the manners of those around it and did its best to mimic them. As Arsoo had said, it learned quickly.

The Stranger’s weakness concerned her, but old Shaheth said the creature would be fine by morning. It was recovering from the poison of the thorn trap well and just needed rest. She hoped he was right, as she wanted to get the Stranger to the village before high-sun and they had a bit of a walk ahead of them. She doubted it would be capable of taking to the trees. It did look able to climb, but swinging and leaping like a Hylee was probably beyond it. She decided she would ask Vhooth to go on ahead and tell the village what they were bringing.

As soon as the three new Hylee entered, the rest of them sprang into action. Slade was left to sit on the table as the natives cleared a large space on the floor then set about preparing a meal. Slade checked the chronometer on his wrist com and saw it was late evening. Despite spending half the day unconscious, he felt incredibly weary.

In short order the Hylee had laid out quite a sizable feast on platters made of wood, giant leaves, and even something that looked like a serving bowl sized clam shell. The green and blue ones helped him off the table, as his legs wouldn't quite hold his weight and he felt a wave of weakness that thankfully passed once he was sitting on the floor. After they had all seated themselves, they began offering him different foods to try.

The first thing he went for was the honey, as he figured the sugars would do best to help revive him. It was as sweet and rich as any variety he'd ever had, and he accepted the offer to pour some of it into his tea. He nibbled cautiously at the vegetables, especially the peppery tasting leaves. Without a survival kit, he couldn't test them for chemicals that might make him sick. He did recognize a couple of the fruits, and particularly enjoyed the variety with the sweet purple flesh and tart green skin.

The Hylee did not fix plates for themselves; rather they freely reached for whatever they wanted from the various platters. There were bowls of water set around to rinse sticky fingers and clumps of some fibrous material to dry your hands on. They did preserve some foods, as evidenced by the dried fruits and fish, but apparently they didn't cook. As nicely as the slices of raw red meat were arranged on their tray, Slade declined the offer to sample them.

By the end of the meal, Slade was feeling both much improved and barely able to stay awake. The old Hylee gestured for him to stay put as the meal was cleared away and there was more shifting of baskets and bundles to make room for woven blankets and animal furs, which were piled up into nest-like beds. The same two who had helped him off the table now assisted him into one of the nests. He managed to pry off the last of his armor and barely settled down before he fell into an exhausted sleep.

*****

 

    As the sun rose, so did Hashrah. She had always been active at first light, even in the gloom of a cave. Arsoo, accustomed to the schedule of her master, woke soon after. The Stranger surprised her by waking next. She had expected it to sleep much later. It sat up in its nest and looked around. Seeing that few were stirring it lay back down but did not return to sleep. Everyone else more or less woke next, with the old healer making a great production of stretching and yawning fit to split his head. Shaheth then puttered about as his students sliced fruit and dropped pipith eggs into boiling water.

Shaheth inspected the Republic’s wounds, replacing the poultice and reapplying the ointment on its elbow. Afterward, the creature went about slipping back into its shell. Arsoo had taken care to gather up the scattered pieces and pile them next to its nest after it had fallen asleep.

The Stranger had noticed Hashrah was watching it. Rather than stare back at her, it shifted its position so that it was not looking at her, but could observe her from the corner of its eye. An old hunter's trick indeed. Hashrah busied herself with helping Flo clear the floor of bedding and lay out the mats for the sunrise meal. The problem on her mind was how little they knew about these Republics.

The moment the first set of new Star Travelers arrived, the Hylee referenced what was recorded in the memory weavings, searching for insight on how to handle these potentially unwanted guests. These new Star Travelers were the shiny Stone People and they quickly proved themselves to be unfriendly and disinterested in the Hylee's attempts to speak to them. Unfriendliness quickly turned into destructiveness and hostility as the Stone People started burning the forest and shooting at the Hylee. Hreeshal Village was far away from these first encounters, but heard the news via messenger and talking drum. Then the second set of Star Travelers arrived: the Republics. As soon as these two groups met, they immediately set about killing each other.

Unlike the Stone People, the Republics remained peaceful when they encountered the Hylee, but after their experience with the stone people, the villages distrusted the intentions of these Strangers who sought them out, and avoided them.

All of this passed through Hashrah's mind. The Strangers were encroaching upon more and more of the forest and now they had come to the valley. Something had to be done, but it could not be done blindly. They needed to know more, and of the two star traveling peoples, the Republics were clearly the most approachable.

The Republic was steadier on its feet, though its wounded leg was clearly stiff. It needed no assistance and followed Arsoo to the mats with little prompting. It seemed both surprised and pleased by the boiled eggs, downing five of them, along with fruit, honeycomb, and more tea. After the meal, Vhooth left for the village and Hashrah contemplated the Stranger. It had been peacefully agreeable thus far, but would it be willing to follow them to the village? Hreeshal was not a great distance, but limited to the Stranger's pace, Hashrah expected the sun to be well into its climb before they arrived. As she contemplated how to approach the Stranger, she noticed Shaheth pulling on a travel bag.

“Are you setting out as well, healer?”

“I am setting out with you, hunter.”

She blinked in surprise.

“The creature still has an infected wound I am treating. Besides, you are calling a council meeting and I want to be there for it.”

“What of your students?”

“I think they can manage to process reed pulp without me for a few days. They'll survive.”

“Be welcome then.”

They packed some fruit for the short trip and with a bit of gesturing to get it to understand, the Stranger proved willing to follow them. The last drops of a rain shower fell from the sky as they exited the caves. The Republic's stiff leg and Shaheth's limping gait required an easy pace and Hashrah quelled her desire for haste.

“Shesh?”

“Yes Arsoo?” said Hashrah.

“I have been given charge of the Stranger.”

“Yes, and you've done a fine job looking after it.”

“What should I do with it once we reach the village?”

“Hmm, a good question. I have been thinking a great deal; about the Star Travelers; about our creature in particular; about what you said when we first found it. I would like you to continue to look after it. The village is a different place from a quiet cave with only a handful of people. It will need someone to teach and guide it while it is with us.”

“Will you help?”

“Of course. As much as I can, though I have too many obligations to dedicate myself to it. You also have a duty as my student to learn from me, but I do not think this diversion will set you back. You have always been a most diligent and earnest pupil.”

Arsoo ducked her head at the praise. “Then I shall continue to watch over it. And protect it. Some of The People may not be happy to see it.”

“Very true. The Strangers are causing us all greater and greater stress. You will do well, Arsoo.”

They had been traveling down the long slope away from the cliffs and now approached the jungle. Haja ranged ahead of their little group to watch for trouble and scare away any predators that might take an interest in a lame Hylee and a limping Stranger. Hashrah looked up at the sky. It would be late sun-ascending if not directly high-sun by the time they reached the village, and it would rain soon. Ever since they had pulled the creature from the thorn trap, a sense of urgency had been steadily growing in her, and Hashrah wondered at it. It was a deep feeling, something she could not grasp, like a scent on the wind too diluted to quite identify. It had the pressure of an approaching storm to it, just before the first thunder breaks the anticipatory calm. It was a feeling like instinct and Hashrah turned her head to watch Arsoo move back to walk beside the Republic.

 

*****

    After watching the old medic put on what looked like travel packs, Slade wasn’t surprised when the blue Hylee motioned for him to follow it out of the cave. The group was splitting up. The three Slade had come to think of as the medic’s assistants were staying behind, and the dark brown one had already left. That left Blue, the medic, Ocher, and Deep Violet who seemed to be the leader of this group.

Initially. Slade had been concerned about walking any great distance, but traveling down the tunnel made it clear they’d be held to the pace of the medic, who limped along on an old injury. Slade felt a bit less conscientious about his own slowed pace. The wound on the back of his knee wasn’t painful, but it stiffened the joint and the swelling prevented him from flexing it all the way.

In the company of Strangers, one might wonder where they were being brought, but Slade was content to simply wait and see without speculation. The Hylee had been nothing but hospitable and making his own way through the jungle, injured and unarmed, was inadvisable. He would discover his fate when he reached it.

The Hylee spoke little as they walked, but Slade listened with interest at every snatch of conversation. Theirs was a feathery language of shushes and hoots, both breathy and liquid and seemingly devoid of hard consonants.

Once they left the cave, a quick look around and Slade was quite certain of his general location. Most of the rift valley was surrounded by sheer cliffs but at the east end, the valley floor was connected to the surrounding land by a broad gradual slope and only the south east corner of the valley featured massive slabs of stone and scree. The natives had carried him quite a distance through the jungle and even across the river that fed into the lake.

As their group approached the tangled mass of the jungle, Ocher moved on ahead and Slade watched with fascination as the Hylee’s smooth skin changed color, fading from a solid yellow-orange to a complex mottling of browns, blacks, whites and greens. In an instant, the native vanished into the undergrowth. No wonder their people had proven so elusive! The cursory report on the Hylee hadn't mentioned a color changing ability.

Upon entering the forest edge Slade slipped on his helmet. Deep Violet and Blue moved to either side of him and the medic and pulled free the hook ended staffs from where they lay strapped to their backs, using the tools to pull aside the overhanging leaves in their path. They also changed color, adding stripes of bright red, orange, and yellow to their shoulders and faces as if they'd applied war paint. The colors were likely meant to warn off any dangerous wildlife. The walk through the jungle, however, proved uneventful with their most dangerous encounter being a strangling hangman's tree they gave a wide berth.

They'd just passed the two hour mark of their journey when Deep Violent turned and spoke to the other two, then took the lead and brought them up a rise of ground between two large trees. The way was filled with slender, leafy vines hanging straight down and walking through was like pushing your way down a hall filled with heavy curtains. As Slade swept the last of the hanging plants out of his way, he was struck by the majesty of the view that was revealed.

Spread out before him was a clearing and at it's center... The jungle was full of giant trees, a greater diversity of them than Slade had ever imagined, but he never could have imagined this singular goliath of wood. A multitude of trunks, each the size of a respectable tree in its own right, rose from the ground in a great coil, braided together and spiraling upwards. At the mass of wood's apex they released their entwined embrace and spread outward, branching into a vast canopy that filled the sky.

The community of plants surrounding the tightly coiled colossus was restricted to undergrowth, no other trees grew in the shadow of the giant's crown. It was not dark, however. Sunbeams broke through, lending the humid air a golden hue. As Slade gazed at the splendor before him, he took note of their route. There'd been no reason to veer towards this rise than the dramatic effect of the reveal and he glanced at Deep Violet who was watching him.

“Alright, you got me. I'm impressed.”

The Hylee raised its muzzle at the sound of his voice, then ducked its head. It had a merry look to its eyes. They may not speak each other's language, but Slade felt they were communicating just fine.

The group stepped down into the clearing and followed a trimmed path. As he walked along, Slade felt the jungle here had a, not exactly manicured look, but the brush was cut low and he could see more clearly through the growth. And when he looked, his gaze was often met by the curious eyes of Hylee half hidden in the surrounding greenery. With Deep Violet and Blue in the lead, they walked to the base of the colossus. One of the stems had formed a perfect ramp, and they followed it upward like a gigantic spiral staircase. Many of the stems formed walkable ridges and balconies along the tree's exterior and here and there other Hylee looked on with interest. The trunk mass itself did not tower as high as many of its giant neighbors, but it was nearly as wide as it was tall. Upon reaching the top, Slade removed his helmet and stepped onto a broad, concave rim, crossed it, then started the climb down another ramp on the inside of the tree. The tree was hollow, and here was where the Hylee lived. The tree interior itself provided sloping ramps and flat platforms, shallow alcoves and deep chambers.

All around, like crowds gathered to watch a parade, clusters of Hylee craned their long necks to observe the Stranger in its glossy pale shell as its escort lead the way down to the tree's bottom. Slade in turn watched the watchers and took in as much as he could of the expansive chamber. Colorfully beaded curtains hung across openings that likely lead into dwellings. Flowering vines trailed down the walls. Woven mats, low tables and decorative pottery were set out on the irregular platforms, chattering birds and iridescent insects flew in small clouds from perch to perch. The tree's interior was as colorful and busy a community as any the Republic Trooper had seen.

At the bottom of the tree a broad walkway ringed a garden version of the surrounding jungle. Little pebbled paths wound through tall flowering plants, there was even a pond. The base of the tree itself was marked with large open chambers and it was to one of these Slade was lead. The Hylee awaiting them here had a look of formality to them. They wore necklaces of beads or patterned shawls draped over their shoulders and braided belts or corded arm bands. Slade also recognized Ochre and Dark Brown standing among them. His escort bowed to them and he followed suit. Then Deep Violet stepped forward and began speaking.

*****

    “Council elders, I thank you for gathering at my request. I bring forward a formal matter to discuss.”

“Hunter Vooth gave us a summary of events,” said Aleel, one of the village caretakers whose main interest was the health of the coil tree itself. “He said the creature has been peaceful?”

“And cooperative.” Hashrah added as she waved the Republic forward and it joined her to stand before the council. Hashrah paid careful attention to the reactions of the gathered. Grizzled old Tharmarl immediately thrust his narrow head forward to peer sharply at the Stranger with keen interest. No doubt intent on absorbing every detail for his record keeping. Vahroo the healer looked on with cautious interest, her eyes flicking from the Stranger’s bandages to Shaheth, who had been her own teacher many seasons ago. Thleal, the heavy shouldered drum master kept his expression characteristically neutral. Leshyu drew back, but Hashrah had always found the cultivator a bit timid and her sister Aleel more stolid.

The most concerning reaction was the open hostility of Haruu, who represented the village hunters. Hashrah herself had originally been offered the council position but she declined in favor of teaching. Haruu had made for a curious second choice, considering how contrary his opinions ran to her own. He was already eyeing her warily. On the other hand, the most encouraging reaction was from Ouamesh.

Ouamesh the master bead crafter, who normally wore her skin the darkest sable to better show off her shining strings of beads, had brightened to a warm brown in open curiosity. She then met Hashrah’s eyes with friendly encouragement. Her carved beads were Hreeshal Village’s pride and joy and the bead crafter had a great deal of influence.

“Is it wise to have brought...this being to the village?” asked Leshyu “Our safety in the face of this invasion has been dependent on our secrecy.”

“That is indeed the subject I bring forth for discussion, respected speaker.” Hashrah bowed.

“Then let us begin.” Aleel put words into action and lowered herself to the sitting mat.

Shaheth moved forward to join Hashrah and sat on the other side of the Stranger. Hashrah motioned for Arsoo to join her as well. Once all were seated on their mats, the elder hunter began.

“First, I would remind the council that the Star Travelers who now invade Hanhalee fall into two factions: the Stone People who have proven dangerous to us and caused the most destruction of the forest, and the Republics. Messages from other villages say the Republics have approached our people, but never attacked us. And when we retreated, they did not pursue.”

“Thus far, avoidance has kept us safe, but it is clear that can not last. Already villages have been abandoned when the Strangers drew too near, but how far, how often, can we flee? Can we simply turn a blind eye to the vast wounds carved by fire that will take many seasons to regrow and the hardship our people will suffer due the lost resources in their territories? And now the Strangers are in the valley. How long before we too must abandon our home and seek aid from other villages?”

“Upon finding this Republic, my student, Arsoo, reminded me of the story of another invasion in our recent past. Over three hundred seasons ago, other Star Travelers came to burn the forest and burrow into the ground, but it was one of their own who befriended us and helped us send them away. Let us try to follow that past wisdom. This Republic represents an opportunity. Let us speak to it and learn why these Star Travelers have come and what we may do to send them away, or at the very least, stop them destroying the forest.”

“A sound suggestion I should think,” sniffed Tharmarl. “We have been behaving like veeroo, who retreat to their holes at every shadow that passes overhead. To find a solution you must understand the problem and this Stranger gives us an opportunity to take action.”

“If it speaks, do we simply believe its words?” Haruu's ruff raised to emphasize the challenge in his words. “I too am familiar with history, older stories of invasions long ago. Star Travelers always want something from us and are willing to take what they want with violence and lies. It has always been dangerous to act on their terms.”

“Then what do you suggest? We stumble forward in ignorance?” said Tharmarl, his own ruff flaring.

“No. What I suggest is caution. We can not simply assume this creature is trustworthy.”

“I agree,” said Leshyu. “We must be very careful.”

“Of course we're going to be careful.” Shaheth broke in with irritation, silencing the speakers. “Why even argue at this point? We either sit on our tails and hope the tree falls the other way or we get up and move. Let's start by talking to it and decide how to proceed from there, hmmm?”

Hashrah carefully kept her expression neutral. It would not do to laugh but she was eternally grateful for the irascible old healer cutting to the chase.

“Fellow speakers of the council. I am afraid I agree with the honored healer.” Ouamesh bowed her head to Shaheth. “At this point we know too little to make any decisions on our approach to our guest or its people. Speaking to it must be a first step lest we waste time on speculation. I propose we send a message to Lahara Village and request use of the Stone Head. After all, this is the very purpose it was gifted to us, yes?”

“Agreed,” Tharmarl raised his muzzle and the other council members nodded.

“I'll send the message myself, and put it in urgent code,” said Thleal. “Lahara is just upriver. They should be able to raft it down in two or three suns.

Prologue: Collectors of the Dead

 ~Other Stars~

an alternative timeline Star Wars story

~Book 1 Prologue: Collectors of the Dead~

22 BBY, after the first battle of Geonosis, before the battle of Christophsis,

before the first episode of The Clone Wars

    The fighting was over for the day by mutual agreement of the two warring sides and the pair of medics searched the battlefield in a race against the setting sun. The floor of the valley undulated with low hills, once covered in waving grasses now largely burned away and trampled. The hills cratered by heavy shelling. Only the marshy area at the valley's lowest point was largely untouched.

"Receiving signal, dead ahead."

Clad in white armor, individualized with blue markings and the red patch of the medical corps emblazoned on their shoulders, they hurried to chase down the source of the distress beacon. They were armed with blaster rifles, but the enemy had already retreated into the foothills. The light was dying fast as the pale sun sank behind the rounded mountains that enclosed the valley.

"Kix, we're about out of time."

"We're close, dammit."

The one called Kix paused atop a low rise and held up a scanner as he tried to pinpoint the beacon. "I swear signals bounce off these damned hills," he said in growing frustration.

"Easy, brother."

"Sorry, Dustoff. My fuse's been getting short lately. I think the signal's coming from near that overturned tank."

It was a Separatist Armored Assault Tank, the hover vehicle of thirty plus tons lay upside down, it's shovel shaped bottom facing the sky, its bent cannon half buried in the ground. As the medics came around its side, they spotted the trooper laying still and silent in its shadow. Kix and Dustoff hurried to his side. Dustoff felt for a pulse as Kix scanned him for signs of life.

"Nothing. Not fast enough for this one." Kix let his hand sink, resting the bioscanner on his knees as he sat back on his heels.

"Blaster wounds to the chest. Lots of burns on the tank too. He must've tried taking shelter here and gotten pinned down." Dustoff ran his hand over the side of the tank. "Look at this!"

Kix looked up and spotted the deep scratches and gouges around the rim of the tank's lower section. "Like the others we've seen. The scavengers probably tipped this one over, or even tossed it like that tank half sunk in the marsh."

"Yeah, I think it's time to go." Dustoff pulled the trooper up by one arm and slung him over his shoulder. "We've already stayed too long, here it comes."

Dusk had fallen and as soon as the mountain shadows grew deep, fog poured out of the heavily forested slopes. The leading edge was as thick as a cloud bank and the fog raced across the valley floor like an army of spirits in full charge. There was little point in trying to outrun it.

"Hope the boys back at camp remember to turn the lights on." Dustoff quipped with forced cheerfulness as he watched the billowing wall rush towards them.

Kix resisted the urge to lean into it, as though he were bracing against a crashing wave. In an instant his world changed, from the solidity of black dirt and burnt grass to an ethereal realm of swirling white. The soldiers' helmets could be equipped with lights, but the powerful beams tended to create a blindingly bright area of reflection immediately around the user. Instead he and Dustoff pulled out small pen lights. The dimmer illumination seemed to penetrate further into the fog.

"Let's get a move on before we get turned around." Dustoff clipped his light to his belt and began to head back the way they'd come.

Kix clipped his light to his rifle.

They walked cautiously through the fog. Their footfalls strangely muffled.  A monstrous shape loomed out of the swirling mist. It was a downed AT-TE. The six-legged Republic Walker had been hit by a mortar a couple days ago that blew out its midsection. Its front sets of legs remained locked in an upright position but its rear legs had folded giving it the character of a giant kneeling insect. Someone had placed a small fusion lantern on top of its "head", turning the tank into a landmark for any troopers trying to navigate in the fog.

"Just need to follow its tail straight to the camp," Dustoff said.

Kix was slowly swinging his rifle back and forth, sweeping the light through the mist. "I think we're clear."

"As far as we know, they've never actually attacked a Republic trooper." Dustoff adjusted the weight on his shoulder as he walked.

"As far as we know they carry away bodies, turn droids into confetti, and not much else. We don't know if the troopers they take started off dead or alive." Kix continued to scan the fog as they traveled.

They came up over the crest of another hill and spotted a thickening in the fog directly ahead of them. It was close, the mass of the hill had hidden it. The medics froze in place as it twisted serpentine and a pair of shining sapphires came into view. They stilled their breathing as if they could avoid its notice as it gazed directly at them. It was little more than a vague impression of a large curving shape, as if a twisting column of the fog itself had solidified. It faded in and out with every whorl of the restless mist, devoid of color or texture save for the intense glow of its eyes. It hung there unmoving, blocking their path.

"Think it wants the corpse?" Dustoff whispered.

Kix tightened his grip on his rifle.

The creature contemplated them a moment more, then the sapphires turned away and the rest of it melted into the fog.

Dustoff let out the breath he'd been holding. "Something large as a rancor should make some damn noise."

"Lets go." Kix hurried down the hill forcing Dustoff to catch up.

"It could still be there!" Dustoff twisted to look around nervously.

"Near or far, those things could sneak up and you'd never know what grabbed you. Let's just get the hell out of here."

*****

    The camp was a temporary base for the Republic Army that became a little more permanent with each passing day as the fighting within the valley dragged on. It was supposed to be a quick campaign. The Republic fleet of starships had swept into the system before the Separatist fleet could arrive to defend this planet, and bombarded the enemy bases on the surface.  Then they dropped off half of the 501st Legion to scour what remained and eradicate the surviving machine soldiers of the CIS.   The army divided up by battalion and chased down the battle droids. General Skywalker himself lead two battalions against the main body of the surviving droid forces as they fled towards the mountains. Then everything came to a halt in the valley.

As soon as Kix and Dustoff entered the camp, the sentry on duty approached them. "Kix, Dustoff, good to see you. You two were the last men still out there." He looked at Dustoff's burden and tilted his head in inquiry but the medic just shook his head. "Ah, to the morgue then. I won't delay you. I just have a message for Kix."

Dustoff nodded and walked off towards an LAAT in the distance. This particular Low Altitude Assault Transport now only carried soldiers who were done with fighting.

"What have you got for me Flare?"

"Just a change in schedule. Wounded have thankfully been manageable, so you're off night duty unless there's a surge."

Kix sighed at the small relief. "I take it surgery is quiet?" He looked off towards the mass of white canvas rising out of the drifting mist. The red sigil of the medical corps stamped on the fabric.

"Pulse, Vers, and Doc are on duty and have it covered. Get something from the mess and get some sleep. That's from the captain."

Kix nodded and decided to do just that. A hot bowl of soup sounded really good. The past three days had been grueling. With their backs to the wall of the mountains, the mechanical soldiers had finally committed to fighting back, and did so with surprising ferocity. It had been speculated that a tactical droid was leading them, and the effectiveness of the droids' last stand defense was proof.   And then, of course, there was the complicating element.

Kix walked into the camp. Fusion lanterns large and small dotted the landscape. The camp was tucked up against the densely forested slopes of the eroded mountains on the western side of the valley. At this higher elevation the fog was thinner. It was densest a few inches above the ground where it drifted like snow and swirled around one's feet. Above that it formed a diffuse haze that gave the base an otherworldly quality where everything seemed to float above a shifting surface.

Even at night, the camp was busy. Troopers patrolled the perimeter and the now ubiquitous messengers carried orders and other information back and forth from a pair of downed gunships turned command center. Kix passed this makeshift structure. The LAATs had both lost a wing but still managed to crash otherwise intact. They'd been dragged into place by a Walker and a tarp stretched between them to form a connecting roof. The general had taken up residence in one of the troop transports while the other served as storage and a portable holotable occupied the space between, though it had limited use at the moment. The command center worked as a summary for the camp itself. Downed ships and other wreckage strewn about with tarps and tents served as the camp's buildings. Another LAAT, flight worthy but grounded served as Kix's barracks, and he stopped there briefly to drop off his helmet.

The mess tents were clustered together to form one large dining hall and this was where Kix headed. He walked to the dispensers, the choices were vegetable soup, stew, or noodles and coffee. Not exciting but thankfully still plentiful. As he filled his bowl he saw Dustoff enter and nodded to his fellow medic before taking his tray to join the small group gathered at one of the long tables. As Kix approached, he heard the sound of static.

"Hear that? That's a regular oscillation with a set period."

"You can get repeating patterns out of natural sources. Just because the noise isn't random doesn't mean its artificially generated."

"I'm telling you it's unnatural."

The men gathered were all of a nearly identical character. Olive skin, black hair, brown eyes, matching faces and similar voices, they were clones. The entire army of the Repubic was made up of soldiers derived from a singular genetic source, and created to serve as soldiers in this time of need. And so, it was perhaps no surprise they wore such a variety of hair styles, tattoos, and patterns on their armor to individualize themselves.

Kix joined them and set his tray on the table. Longshot, a clone with a short cropped mohawk and the armor on both arms covered in tally marks had his arm resting on the table, his wrist communicator on, and was the source of the static.

"Maybe it's natural, maybe it's not. It's not likely to matter." The clone who spoke sported a thin chinstrap beard and leaned indolently against the table, elbow on the surface, head propped on one hand. He straddled the bench as he faced Longshot. He looked up as Kix joined them. "Hey, Kix. Haven't seen you in a while. You look like you've been dragged through a knothole."

"I was pulling both field and surgery duty for the past few days. Things have finally calmed down."

The other clone nodded grimly.

"Aiden." Longshot spoke to regain the clone's attention and continue their conversation. "If we could find the source of this interference it would solve almost all of our problems."

Aiden shrugged. "That it would, but where would we look? There's nothing out here other than us and the clankers. How would we find it? Long range scans don't work here and short range is dead once the fog rolls in. Even sensitive equipment is farkled.  You should see what a hologram contorts into when the murk is about." He shuddered. "We'd literally have to stumble across it by accident."

"Well, us and the clankers aren't quite the only things out here. Kix and I had an encounter on the way in." Dustoff had arrived with his tray and sat next to Kix. "Longshot, mind turning your com off? That static is hard to listen to."

Kix was also relieved when Longshot complied and the crackling hiss was silenced. The sound crawled right up his spine.

"You saw one of them?"

The other two clones present had been silently listening to the conversation between Longshot and Aiden. One wore the standard regulation flat top haircut with no decorations save for the diagonal pattern of chevrons painted across his chest plate. The other sported a shaved head and had a large cogwheel, symbol of the Republic, tattooed on the left side.

"Well, as much as anyone ever sees one, Breakout." Dustoff replied to the one with the chevrons.

Dustoff himself maintained a very plain look. His hair worn in a basic crew cut rather than a flat top. Kix wore his hair extremely short, with lightning bolts shaved into it and words tattooed on the left side of his head that read "a good droid is a dead one".

"So what did you see?"

"Glowing blue eyes, head on a long neck. Either a long tail or serpent body."

"They have arms and hands with long fingers." said Breakout.

"The one Kix and I ran into was pretty close to us, almost bumped right into it as we walked over a hill. It gave us a brief look over then vanished. Just gone like a spirit."

"Well they're not phantoms, we know that for sure," Longshot stated. "You can hit them with blaster fire, not that they care. Droids shot at them and found out how solid they were real fast."

"Too bad the fog beasties didn't wipe the clankers out, could have saved us a lot of trouble. Ugh, I need another coffee."

"Why don't you get some sleep, Aiden?" Dustoff asked with some concern.

"I will a bit later. Got an appointment up top shortly."

"With the Jedi General? Now there's someone else who doesn't get much sleep."

"Well, we got problems and he's trying to come up with solutions that don't involve us climbing out of this valley on foot. Without communications, the rest of the army doesn't even know where we are,” said Aiden.

Four days ago the Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, had lead his battalions in pursuit of the Separatist forces into this valley. They'd flown in via their LAAT troop and tank carriers. As soon as they'd passed the mountains, their ships' navigation had gone haywire and activated the nav com's collision avoidance systems. Before the clone pilots could wrest control away from the computers, they'd collectively nose dived towards the valley. Testament to the skill of the pilots, there were no fatalities, even if some of the forced landings dug deep trenches into the ground or resulted in a gunship coming to rest upside down. Crashing was simply the beginning of their tribulations.

"You ARC troopers see him more than the rest of us commoners do," Longshot leaned towards Aiden. "You got much confidence in this Jedi?"

The clone with the cogwheel tattoo spoke up," Now see here Longshot. That's no way to talk about our general. He may be new to command but that doesn't mean he's incompetent. The 501st Legion itself barely existed before being assigned to him."

"It's different with us. We've been trained for this our whole lives, Jesse. The Jedi aren't soldiers and are still working out how to be proper leaders for an army. I was at Geonosis, you weren't, and that operation was near disastrous."

"So they made some mistakes..."

"When they make an expensive mistake, we pick up the tab, my brother."

"What are you getting at?"

"All I'm saying is, aside from being inexperienced, I hope General Skywalker also turns out to be brilliant because if something doesn't give soon we'll be feeling the bite in our supplies and then we'll all be feeding our friends out there."

"The droids have got to be hurting too. I'm guessing they have a portable recharge station but without a power generator they can't keep going forever."

"I don't want to try to outlast them."

"We junk an awful lot of'm every day."

"And more pour out of the foothills. They hurt us a lot more with every trooper they take out of action than we do scrapping batches of them. A lot of men were injured when we crash landed here, we aren't going to win a battle of attrition with our reduced numbers."

"Enough you two." Aiden interrupted Jesse's retort. "This isn't useful. I gotta' go. If I learn anything uplifting that I can share, I'll let you all know. In the meantime," he looked at Longshot, "give our new general a chance before going full cynic, you insufferable pessimist."

The marksman just sighed.

"Cheer up you lot." Aiden got to his feet as he prepared to leave. "I know this is an oppressive atmosphere but we're survivors and our captain is a clever one. The Jedi too. You'll see." With that final statement the ARC trooper left the dining hall.

"I'm with Aiden and I'll put credits on the table that the General has a notion to get us out of this mess,” Jesse said.

"Not taking that bet. Either I'll lose or I won't get to enjoy my winnings." I'm off to go horizontal for a while." Longshot stood up from the bench. "You should too, Jesse, or are you actually going to eat those rehydrated vegetables you've been pushing around your bowl for half an hour?"

Jesse looked at the wilted greens and grimaced. "I'll be along."

"I'm off too." Breakout got up. "At least with the nightly ceasefires we get a chance at regular sleep."

"Sure, with the scavengers out there snacking on our brothers who didn't make it back. Better hope they don't decide the camp's a buffet."

Breakout glared at Longshot as they walked out. "Thanks a lot for that you son of a bantha. I'm going to sleep extra hard just to spite you."

"I swear that man thrives on negativity. Mark my words, he's enjoying our situation." Dustoff said as he watched the pair leave.

"Hey, Kix, you alright? You haven't said boo since you sat down."

Kix had been single-mindedly eating his soup throughout the conversation. "Just tired, Jesse and there's a lot on my mind."

Jesse compressed his lips into a thin line as he looked at his friend with concern. "You're doing all you can, Kix. All of the medics are."

"It's not enough. We have such a narrow window of time to reach the wounded and even before the fog arrives signals are distorted, unreliable. I can't find them fast enough!" That last part almost came out as a plea and Kix fell silent, looking down at his empty bowl.

Clone medics were famous for their devotion to the protection of their brothers and Kix took that further, refusing to abandon even the dead to scavengers if he could help it. Jesse felt uneasy. Kix, normally an easy going fellow with a light sense of humor also had a temper, complete with a tendency towards recklessness, provoked by the denial of what he saw as his sacred purpose. Ever since they'd become stranded, Jesse had seen that temper begin to smolder as Kix grew more frustrated and withdrawn.

"Hang in there. Aiden's right, I know it. We'll have an answer to this situation soon." Jesse wasn't much satisfied with his own words, but it was all he could think to say.

*****

    Kix, Dustoff and Jesse left the mess together. Jesse bid them a good night and headed off to his own improvised barracks. The two medics shared theirs and walked in that direction when a commotion caught their attention at the camp's perimeter. They hurried over to see what the fuss was and saw Flare next to a trooper who was sitting on the enshrouded ground. Flare spotted them and waved them over.

"I'm telling you I'm not wounded!"

"And I'm telling you I'm having a look anyway."

"What's going on here?" Kix knelt next to the trooper as he spoke to Flare.

"Hey, you're Bailey right? From Dusk company?" Dustoff leaned over to look at the trooper.

"Yeah, Dustoff, it's me. What's with all this flap?"

The trooper was a bit too irritated to be wholly cooperative, but Flare and Kix got his chest armor off. A hole from a blaster shot had burned through the center of the chest plate and a matching hole was found on the body glove worn beneath. There was not, however, a mark on the clone himself.

"Huh," Bailey examined the armor. "I don't remember even getting shot."

"You must have caught a stray from clean across the battlefield that hit you past its lethal range. You're incredibly lucky."

"Well great. Will you let me go now?"

"Bailey," Dustoff said, "you've been missing for over a day."

"What?!" The trooper looked at them with a dumbfounded expression. "That can't be right. I..." He fell silent and looked around in confusion. "How did I get here? I was all the way at the edge of the marsh last I remember. Then I was walking into the camp when Flare intercepted me."

"Hold still." Kix pulled out his pen light and shined it in the clone's eyes. "Pupil dilation response is normal. You feel any dizziness or head pain?"

"No. I feel fine."

"I think it would be best if you spent the night in the med tent under observation until we can scan you in the morning after the fog burns off."

"Uh, yes sir. Was I really missing that long?"

"Afraid so," answered Dustoff. "Here, I'll walk you over and explain to the medics on duty what's up."

"Thank you." The clone stood and allowed Dustoff to guide him away.

Flare shook his head as he watched them go. "That's the second one you know?"

"Second one what?" Kix asked.

"Oh, you don't know. I suppose you had your hands full with other things. Yesterday I had one walk out of the fog; Duke from your company. He'd also been MIA for a bit over a day. Same story, armor messed up, flesh untouched, no memory of what happened or how he got back to camp."

"That's incredibly strange."

"Yeah, you think maybe the fog is messing with their heads."

"Hmm...if that were the case you'd think it'd be more widespread. We're clones, our physiology is near identical."

"Ahh, true."

"Still, that's a concerning thought."

*****

    "See? What'd I say." Jesse said as he leaned over with a smile.

Kix nodded and returned his attention to the captain.

All of Torrent company had gathered outside of their jumble of living quarters to listen to their captain's address. Captain Rex stood on top of a storage crate to better be seen and heard. All around the camp, similar meetings were taking place.

"Scouts have succeeded in pinpointing the location where the droids gather to rush the battlefield. Their staging area is almost due east of our camp across the valley, within the foothills, about two hundred meters past the tree line. They begin to assemble there at zero five hundred hours, roughly an hour and a half before the fog begins to burn off. Tonight, all men fit to fight will be deploying into the field at midnight to take up positions in the hills near the droid's entry point. Meanwhile, a detachment will enter the forest and lay down every explosive we have to mine the area. Remote detonation won't work so everything will have to be hardwired. If successful, we'll blow a nice big hole in the center of their forces and then be in position to hit them from two sides."

A trooper raised his hand and the captain acknowledged him. "Sir, what about the fog beasts?"

Rex nodded. "Yes, the biggest potential complicating factor. We've had a few days to observe the behavior of these creatures, and while they certainly don't like droids, they haven't displayed any aggression towards us. In fact, they shy away if approached. I don't want anyone to put that to the test though. If you spot one, stay away from it. We do not want to provoke these things. Now, if all goes well, we will be bringing this little adventure to a close soon. With the droids annihilated, we won't have to worry about them coming up our backsides and we'll finally be able to leave this valley."

"So we're going to have to climb out of here after all?"

"I'm afraid that's how it looks," the captain affirmed. "The hope is once we get over the ridge we'll be able to send out a signal for rescue and a warning to stay clear of the airspace above the valley. With luck our remaining Walkers will still be in good enough condition to drag the LAATs, we'll load the wounded into them. Otherwise we'll have to split our forces and send back a rescue party once we make contact with the rest of our forces. Any further questions?"

Silence from the assembled soldiers.

"Good, we still have another day of fighting to get through. Keep your heads down. Give no ground but no heroics. We're in the home stretch. Survive."

"Sir yes, sir!" came the company's response.

*****

    Kix jogged along with the rest of Torrent company. To his right he could barely see a couple of his fellow troopers. Their white armor blending in with the fog. Each soldier wore a tiny light clipped to the back of his belt, the pinpoints of brightness being the only way they could keep track of each other in the pale soup. Still, it was too easy to feel isolated and the fog itself was disorienting with its restless movement.

No breeze what-so-ever. Chemical repulsion? Energy fields? Maybe I should try capturing some of it in a jar for later study.

To his left was blankness, the dark ground fading off into milky oblivion. Up and down the rolling hills he followed the lights. Far ahead Jesse, Aiden and the rest of the scout detachment were laying down the bombs. If all went to plan, the explosion alone would cripple the droids and make this a short battle. Best not to count on that. Kix hated the lack of visibility. He had a decent memory of what this side of the valley looked like but nothing seemed connected within the mist. Then he caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye.

Not far away, walking or perhaps floating, or even not moving at all was a silhouette. The head of it was in profile, impression of a long neck above a flickering dark mass. Kix gave it a brief look then moved to turn away when its hands came into sharp relief, and the body it carried. He could see the clear outline of clone armor, the distinct shape of the helmet.

"Drop him! Let him go you bone picking scavenger!" Kix shouted in an instant release of pent up anger. He raised his blaster rifle and fired.

He hadn't tried to hit it and the shot zipped past its head. It reacted by simply turning to look his way before retreating to vanish into the fog with its prize.

"No!" Kix ran a few steps before stopping. Staring as hard into the mist as he could, he saw nothing, nothing was there.

He took a long steadying breath and let it out, then turned to catch up with the army, and nothing was there.

They couldn't have moved that far away.

The medic broke into a run, down a hill and up another before stopping.  He worried that he'd gotten turned around.

Of all the foolish, cadet brained, stupid moves...

He looked around. There were no familiar shapes, no battlefield landmarks he could use to orient himself. Kix sighed and rested his rifle on his shoulder.

You had one order really and botched it right up. Captain'll be giving you a deserved chewing out. Maybe the fog really is messing with my head.

There was nothing to do but hold his position and wait. Once the sun burned off the fog he'd be able to see where he was and where he needed to go. Sighing again, Kix lowered himself to the ground, blaster resting across his knees. It would be an hour at least before the air cleared up.

And what would you have done if it'd attacked you? Died, that's what.

The clone shut his eyes, the fog's movement was making him a bit dizzy. Then they snapped open and he cast around nervously. He'd never been anywhere so completely silent and he drew his knees more tightly against his chest.

Time seemed as vague as everything else but Kix refused to check the chronometer on his wrist com. He just had to stay vigilant until the sun rose over the mountains. He began to build chemical formulas in his head to keep himself from staring mindlessly into the gloom. The minutes passed and he gradually noticed the fog was taking on a more golden hue. The sun was rising, not over the mountains yet but its light was coloring the mist.

A noise quickly brought him to his feet. He thought he heard something more and held his breath as he listened. It was the sound of a battle, muffled but still distinct. The clone turned and tilted his head, trying to determine a direction and felt confident enough to start moving. Cautiously he jogged down the hill and up the next. Upon cresting it the sounds unexpectedly became much louder and sharper. He could hear blaster fire and the sharp boom of the cannon mounted atop a Republic Walker. He paused and tried to peer ahead, not wanting to walk into enemy fire. Then he heard the telltale whistle of a falling Separatist tank shell. Frantically, Kix looked up, trying to determine its trajectory by the sound.

*****

    She was one of many who scoured the battlefield listening to the infrasound messages rumbled by the others. One sang out to her that something was found. She joined the other who stood over a pale form on the ground, a broken doll amongst flung debris and dirt. She tilted downward and straightened its limbs. Its plastoid shell was cracked and oozed blood, but it was otherwise promisingly intact. She sniffed it, then pulled off its head gear and pressed her muzzle to its face, her warm breath swirling the haze around it. No reciprocating breath emerged. She replaced its helmet and with delicate care, slid one hand beneath its back, the other beneath its legs and lifted it level with her sternum, high above the ground. She then turned and carried it away.

*****

    With a groan, Kix levered himself into a sitting position. A piece of his armor flaked off and he discovered the surface of the chest piece was covered in fracture lines. Something had certainly hit him hard. Cautiously he felt his ribs and twisted around a bit but felt no pain of injury. He looked for his blaster rifle, but found no sign of it.

Great, guess I'll just run up to a droid and punch it.

Kix pulled himself to his feet and peered around. The fog was as pale and silvery as ever, but he could finally see lights ahead. Strangely, he didn't hear any fighting and wondered how long he'd been knocked out. The medic felt his skull for lumps but again, everything seemed fine, nor did he feel dizzy. Carefully, Kix headed for the lights and was shocked to find himself walking into the Republic base. He stared in bewilderment as Flare came running up to him.

"Oh thank the stars, the Force, and whatever else! Shab your armor's been trashed. Why don't you have a quick seat right here and I'll get that off of you."

"Flare? What's going on? How...how did I get back to camp?"

Kix let the trooper push him down to sit on the ground as Flare helped him slip off his chest plate. The sentry gave him a worried look.

"Same as the other two. You don't remember a thing. You've been missing since before the final battle. That was yesterday morning. And not a scratch on you. Do you feel alright?"

Kix sat there a moment, processing what the trooper had said before he answered. "I'm fine. How'd the battle go?"

"By the book for once. Droids are wiped. The general decided it'd be best to send a team up to the mountain ridge and call for a rescue rather than try to cart everybody up there. So, we're just waiting. How about I help you to the medical tents. Dustoff and Jesse will be beside themselves."

"Yeah."

Kix didn't feel weak or unbalanced, but it was good to lean against Flare as they walked.