Author's Notes: Apologizes for delaying this chapter after I had promised some of you that I had it written. I wanted to fill in some gaps that I felt were unfinished, and I believe the chapter now fully tells the part of the story it was intended to tell.

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

Disclaimer: I make no money, and I only write about what I enjoy. I own none of Karen Traviss' characters, and I hope she is not too upset that I have borrowed them to help tell the tale. Crimson Squad, the Tochin people, Gan Pohin, Moff Harkin, and anyone else I create are mine. Everything else belongs to George Lucas. All opening chapter quotes are my own design, unless otherwise specified.

Chapter 17

The Force shows me that things brew beneath the surface, and I sense a churning of emotions, not unlike the undertow in an ocean. What I can sense in that undertow looks like braided ribbons, tightly woven and unbreakable. It's a rare bond, a beautiful knot of compassion and adoration, unique in that it is both innocent but deeply devoted.
Jedi Paxa Tener providing her insights to King Vollan Psach

Tochin Moon III
786 Days ABG

Dusty tucked his arms behind his head and reclined with satisfaction onto the abundant and soft mattress. The wooden frame that supported the mattress was carved and etched to look like leaves on a vine reaching up towards the ceiling. The deep, red wood had been carefully stained to hide the knots, and it had been polished so that it was smooth to the touch.

Dusty closed his eyes for a couple moments and let his body contour into the soft bedspread. He didn't care that it was a lightly colored blue, not unlike the early morning sky he had witnessed during their journeys in the Tochin forest. He was just content to feel pampered and spoiled, and he felt that Crimson deserved the right to enjoy the moment. Even though he had once before experienced a short time with civilian splendor, he was certain that this would probably be the one and only time the rest of his brothers would ever have this experience, and he hoped they would relish it as much as he intended to do.

In fact, Dusty had spent the last fifteen minutes gently ransacking the communal guest room they had been given to use for the night. He had no intentions to take anything or leave anything out of place, but it was just the curiosity of the child that lived within him to touch new things and see the kinds of luxury that he couldn't even dream about living within.

Smirking silently, Dusty wondered if anyone would ever realize that his fingerprints had invisibly marked the thick paint upon one of the canvasses in the room. After his inquisitiveness had taken over him earlier, Dusty couldn't help exploring the bumps and ridges of an artistic craft that he had never seen up close before. He thought it was amazing how the paint looked so realistic from a distance but when he was close to it, there were textures he would have never believed made up the painted yellow blooms that were trapped inside the wooden framework.

After exploring the artwork, Dusty had also scavenged through the suite, opening every drawer he could find on the expensive furniture. Everything was made of wood, each piece carved exquisitely with adornments of leaves and flowers that replicated the kinds of plants found in the forests of Tochin. For as much as Dusty was admiring the beauty of the furniture he ransacked, he had also wondered if he would come across any small trinkets that he could consider a souvenir for his time on Tochin and for the night he would spend in a royal palace.

Now, lying comfortably with his curiosity fulfilled and no souvenir to have been found, Dusty opened his eyes again, allowing them to trickle throughout the vast room, taking in everything from the pink and sweetly fragrant orchids that were meticulously placed in a crystalloid vase to the walls of the luxury suite, finding peace in his mind as he stared at some of the other pieces of artwork.

In addition to the painting of the yellow blossoms, there were also canvases with equinine animals in majestic poses. Their four legs, thick tail, and spiked horns gave the impression that these beasts were wild and aggressive rather than tame and domesticated. And, for the briefest of moments, Dusty found his thoughts trailing back to that night on Denon with Cerina Browlin. Even though she seemed very well off financially, the apartment where they had finally ended the night was humble and simple, a staged setting where she had hidden the data they needed. It was a complete contrast to the way she presented herself as a well-kept woman who enjoyed the personal luxuries that accented her beauty.

Absorbed in the disparity between Cerina's appearance and the plain apartment where they spent the better part of the evening, Dusty began to wonder if Cerina actually did live in a similar kind of extravagance like he saw in this palace or if everything about her had been completely scripted in order to fit a profile that had served as a cover to that mission.

Knowing he would never learn such an answer, Dusty decided it was best to push his ever-nagging thoughts about Cerina aside. Rather than live in a past that was long gone, Dusty turned his head to watch Gath's fingers continuously tick over the keys on a datapad.

"Don't forget to make me dashing and daring," Dusty smirked, pulling out of his reverie the best way he knew how – by bothering his brothers.

Gath merely looked up for a moment. "Do you have any idea just how hard it is to write a report so that it coincides with the debriefing we gave?"

Then, without waiting for a response to his rhetorical question, Gath resumed typing madly on the datapad, finishing up the report he was required to submit. It was nothing more than the usual political nonsense that accompanied a debriefing, but according to GAR regulations, squad leaders were required to submit tangible documentation at the end of a mission. Crimson may bend and break rules while on a mission, but Gath always made sure to clean up the report prior to sending it. It was their last chance to properly defend their actions in the event that someone wanted to audit their mission debriefing further. And, with this mission on Tochin, Gath had made certain that during their debriefing and in his report that they neglected the information about calling the princess Les'ika as well as Jas' romantic interlude with her.

"Yeah, I noticed that humanity is disregarded with the GAR," Dusty mumbled.

"So are a lot of things," Mouse agreed as he continued tinkering with the set of comlinks that he had brought with him on the mission. Reworking technology and machinery was something Mouse did when he was bored or needed to relax. In this case, he continued working on the comlinks that he hadn't had a chance to finish refurbishing after they had departed from the transport that had dropped them onto Tochin's Moon II.

The equipment he was fixing was an outdated relic of a time long ago from the days of sending text messages as opposed to verbal communications. Mouse always had an interest in old technology, fascinated by the differences in modern conveniences versus what had come before. He knew that no one bothered with text-only communications anymore, not when there were countless encryptions that could protect verbal and imaged messages, but this was a project he had taken great pride in doing, and it was one of the most satisfying repairs he had done.

Setting one of the comlinks down on a small table, Mouse picked up the other one and sent a quick message between them, smiling with accomplishment that the link worked again. Opening up the outer shells on them once more, he tinkered with the frequency settings, finding one that was long outdated and was easily lost within the usual frequency traffic of the current times.

Jas was sitting on the bed he was given in Crimson's expansively communal room and stared with empty eyes at his buy'ce as it sat on the thick bedcovers. He had already cleaned the Deeces and calibrated the scopes on the attachments. He had taken his kit and had reorganized what was left of it with the meticulous fashion of someone who had a compulsive disorder.

Each of his brothers had seen that Jas was trying to hide his pain, trying to get back into some sense of normalcy, but he was failing miserably at the current moment. Jas had even gone so far as to lay his armor out neatly around him, but he stopped from cleaning it every time he picked up the chest piece and the wrist gauntlets. He just wasn't ready yet to remove the marks on his armor, the places where Les'ika had touched her fingers with concern and curiosity. It was in those moments alone with her that Jas had learned about compassion, and as he touched a bare finger over the marks on one of the wrist gauntlets, he felt his insides churning with grief. The last time he saw Les'ika or touched her was on the LAAT/i. The moment the transport had landed in the palace hangar, the king had rushed in and enclosed his daughter in an embrace that was protective and deeply personal. Crimson didn't need to be told that they were to back away and give the reunited father and daughter their time alone.

By that point, Duchess Janelle had stepped in and led Crimson away so that they could settle in and prepare for the debriefing.

As Jas looked to his buy'ce again, he grazed his finger across the section above the T-visor, the place where Les'ika had kissed him prior to his brothers taking out Gunna and capturing Zech. Jas felt cheated suddenly about how abruptly everything had changed with him not seeing Les'ika after they had arrived at the palace and he wondered if she felt the same about not seeing him. Everything had been so quick, and the debriefing they were required to attend was done during the evening mealtime. Even though Crimson and the others in the debriefing were given a full meal, it just seemed that time was spinning away from Jas faster than he had ever known it to go before.

Other than King Vollan, Duchess Janelle, and the Rodian Jedi negotiator Paxa Tener, only Tarj and Crimson were in attendance in that debriefing, and Crimson had found it unusual that Les'ika was not partaking in the routine meeting.

When Jas had casually asked about Les'ika's absence, the reply he received from the duchess was that the princess had been required to receive a medical and psychological evaluation, as was their standard procedure for any citizen of their world who had undergone a traumatic event of this scale.

From that point on, Jas had kept his head down and his thoughts silent. He only offered brief responses when required, but it was obvious to him that the king and the duchess had picked up on Jas' sudden change in demeanor. Even Jedi Paxa had begun studying Crimson differently, her concentration seeming to subtly and slowly narrow to Jas.

By the time they were released from the debriefing, it was late in the evening and their superiors had ordered them to rest for the night. Their transportation was scheduled to arrive the next day, and they were to leave promptly at noon for their next mission. Vollan had offered for Crimson to stay in the guest rooms rather than the common guards' quarters. He wanted to offer them his gratitude, especially since it was something he said his daughter insisted he do, and Jas was certain that it was at Les'ika's request that Crimson had found themselves in this magnificent suite.

While Jas continued to look at his buy'ce, he thought about Les'ika's father. He realized that the king was everything Les'ika had described as far as being kind and compassionate, especially where she was concerned. In fact, at the end of the debriefing, Vollan had requested a few extra minutes of Crimson's time and dismissed the others. He thanked Crimson privately for the return of his daughter, clearly allowing his emotions to exhibit freely without inhibition. He showed them how he was a father in that private moment, a man who had believed that by losing his child, he had lost his entire life and there was nothing left for him.

Gath humbly explained that they were just following orders, doing the job that they had been assigned. However, from Vollan's perspective, Crimson was nothing short of the saviors who had suddenly emerged from the unknown with his child alive and safe, and he wanted to do everything in his power to see that she would never be harmed again. He even went so far as to ask if it would be possible for Crimson to stay on Tochin, taking on the roles of being his daughter's personal protectors.

Gath regretfully had declined the offer, and Vollan was reasonable enough to understand that special operations soldiers such as Crimson were needed elsewhere in the war. That was when Jas unthinkingly interceded and offered Tarj in their place, explaining that they had grown up together and that they trusted Tarj without question.

Vollan thought about it for a moment, seeming to be studying Jas very closely, taking in his mannerisms and his concern for making certain his daughter would be safe. Then, without any further hesitation, the king accepted Crimson's recommendation and told them that he would get the transfer request for Tarj handled immediately.

After that conversation was the point when Jas had really withdrawn into himself, and Crimson knew that they could say nothing to him until the next day when they were loaded on the transport and headed off of Tochin.

Suddenly the door to Crimson's chamber pinged for attention, and it broke Jas from his ruminations. Gath sighed at the additional distraction that hindered the end of his report. He glanced at the wall-mounted chronometer realizing that it was getting very late in the evening, and he couldn't even begin to imagine who might possibly be calling on them at this hour.

Jas lifted his head cautiously, wondering if perhaps Les'ika had managed to free herself from wherever they had sheltered her away, and he had a wild moment of hope that she would be standing behind the entrance.

Dusty hurried to the door, flashing a mischievous grin at Jas. However, when he opened the door they saw a young man, probably no older than sixteen years old, standing there. He was dressed in the plain clothing of a personal messenger, his tunic and pants a dull yellow. His shin-high boots were worn and dull, their deep brown now faded to a dark tan. The boy's auburn hair was cut short, and his light brown eyes sparkled with curiosity and awe at the four identical men and their small armament that was neatly scattered around the suite.

"I think you have the wrong room," Dusty said as he crossed his arms over his chest, smiling with that jovial charm of his he liked to exhibit around civilians.

The young man pulled his thoughts back from wherever they had been and nervously scratched at the back of his head. "Um, I've been asked to summon the one of you called Jas."

Dusty turned to Jas and winked at him. "Taylir Les'ika akay vaar'tur."

Jas fought to keep his heart from rushing while he tried to contain his embarrassment in front of Dusty, especially since his brother had just told him to "hold Les'ika until morning," and Jas knew exactly what Dusty meant by that.

Standing up, Jas put his buy'ce onto the bed and looked at the messenger, pushing aside the less-than-noble thoughts about being brought to Les'ika's bedchamber. "I'm Jas."

The boy took a quick look at Jas in his bodysuit. "She would consider it disrespectful if you came to see her looking like that."

Feeling a nervous swell in his chest that someone might have made arrangements for him to see Les'ika, Jas moved swiftly and set his armor back on. He glanced at the buy'ce, but decided to leave it on the bed, as the last thing he wanted to do was hide from her again. Turning to the messenger, Jas merely raised an eyebrow to silently question his appearance.

"That's good. Follow me," the boy said cheerfully as he turned and started down the hallway.

Jas followed the messenger, memorizing every turn they took down the long corridors. He let his eyes absorb the artwork and historic artifacts as they went, wondering briefly just how many paintings there were throughout the palace. He saw everything from ancient armor-clad heroes to flower arrangements. The pieces of ancient weaponry that also lined the hallways were antique swords and blades, looking like something out of a fantasy story from an era long past that Jas couldn't even imagine.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a small room, and the messenger left Jas, telling him that he was to wait there for her. Now, Jas paced nervously about this tiny chamber where the walls were covered with giant tapestries depicting scenes of battles and meadows full of flutter-winged insects on top of orchids. Jas had looked to each of the different tapestries, but none of them could hold his attention for long. He knew he shouldn't have accepted this invitation and that he belonged with his brothers. Still, his heart jumped at the thought that he would have one last chance to be with Les'ika, one last chance to hold her and prolong their goodbye for just a little longer.

A set of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the sound of them dropped Jas' stomach to the floor. He knew how the princess walked, and this was not the sound her feet made. What he heard was light and graceful, practiced with great care, and it was a completely different kind of movement from the princess' gait. Les'ika had always walked as though trying to hide, and her steps were cautious sometimes overly careful.

"Thank you for coming," a female voice said.

Jas suddenly turned and felt his chest drop out from beneath him, his suspicions confirmed, as the voice certainly did not belong to Les'ika, but rather her cousin, Janelle Napith.

The sweet floral perfume that this woman wore struck Jas like some kind of blaster bolt. Its scent was intoxicating, flowery like the Cerulean Lily but vibrant like some kind of fresh fruit. Jas considered that her perfume may seem light upon her to the entourage that was accustomed to being in her presence, but the scent was overwhelming to him, blocking his other senses as it threatened to suffocate him in its richness.

He swallowed hard and brought his eyes to the young woman in the room. Her golden hair curled around her shoulders in loose, spiraled ringlets, and her light skin was soft, nearly fragile in its smoothness. Her green eyes held strength but could also hold the stare of anyone she wished. She exuded a certain kind of charisma, and she was a woman who knew how to capture her audience.

Jas glanced over her and saw that her body was shaped in the curves that men found appealing, as the green dress that covered her body accentuated those curves while drawing attention to the color of her eyes.

Jas pulled his eyes away and looked to anything else in the room that he could. This woman was far too mesmerizing, far too aware of her charismatic gifts. She had been trained well in her skills, and she would certainly make the formidable queen that Les'ika wanted her to become in her place. Jas, however, could not ignore the sinking feeling he had that he was about to be interrogated by this woman rather than receive gratitude for saving her younger cousin.

Suddenly, the interrogation mantra that all clones were taught began to play in his mind. Jas, Commando, Crimson Squad, number RC-1147.

"I'm sorry to have misled you by being so vague," Janelle apologized. "I feared you would not have taken my invitation if you knew it came from me."

Jas heard the genuine emotion in her voice, and he should have realized by the ambiguity of the message he was given that it would never have come from the princess. Les'ika was far too honest, unable to be so devious, simply because she knew no other way. Feeling betrayed and resentful that he had been deceived about seeing Les'ika, Jas asked as casually as he could, "Why have you requested me?"

"I wanted to thank you for risking your lives to bring my cousin back home safely, but more importantly, I wanted your personal debriefing," she admitted. "I was there for the official report. Now, I want the unofficial one."

Jas brought his eyes to hers, refusing to fall into the alluring trap he saw in them. Jas, Commando, Crimson Squad, number RC-1147. "What do you classify as unofficial?"

"Arlesse has grown fond of you…"

Jas felt his eyes widen slightly and forced himself to push it away. Jas, Commando, Crimson Squad, number RC-1147.

The duchess suddenly reworded her statement, feigning that she had made a careless mistake with her words. Jas, however, noted differently that she had been very particular and had chosen her verbal slip on purpose. "…Fond of clones, men in the army much like yourself. She has expressed a want to do something in gratitude for the men who have been assigned here on Tochin."

Jas swallowed shallowly, doing all he could to continue hiding exactly what happened in that forest. "Apparently, we made an impression on her."

"Of that I am certain," the duchess acknowledged. "Arlesse is also saddened by your sudden deployment. She didn't think your type of unit would have returned to war quite so quickly."

"That is the nature of war, Ma'am," he told her. "Orders come without warning."

"That is true," she nodded. Stepping towards one of the tapestries and touching an elegant hand upon a tassel to untangle it, she asked, "Will you be saying goodbye to her? It seems you owe her that much."

Jas, Commando, Crimson Squad, number RC-1147. "I'm afraid I don't follow your meaning."

"You're rather protective of her," the duchess said turning back to Jas now, her eyes seeming to hold him in place. "You are concerned for her safety and her well-being."

Jas glanced at the scene on the tapestry of the wild equinine mammal that was on its hind legs seeming to be defiant of the storm clouds rolling in from the distance. He decided to try turning the conversation away from himself while he could. "Tarj is a good man. He'll do his job to keep her safe."

Janelle laughed lightly, refusing to play into Jas' attempt to distract her questions. "I mean you and your fellow squad mates in Crimson. You have taken care of her for the past few days, and I believe that you all still feel an obligation to her."

"We were following orders," Jas said shortly as he turned his head slightly to the duchess. "We were required to bring her home safely."

"But, you were prepared to die for her, weren't you?"

Jas, Commando, Crimson Squad, number RC-1147. "She was our mission objective, and we were to protect her at all costs."

"That's the official answer," the duchess said softly. "Your eyes tell another one."

Jas swallowed hard, wondering how the duchess could possibly see past his interrogation face. He couldn't understand how she could ever see the churning of emotions that took place beneath his hardened façade.

Janelle now brought her eyes to Jas, and the green of them seemed to pierce into him, holding him in place like some kind of restraint. "Arlesse's father sheltered her and protected her because he was afraid that she would leave him, just like her mother did. In his doing so, he made his daughter nearly useless as a leader, and she is now entirely dependent upon others to survive the realities of the world. This palace is all she's ever known her entire life, and clearly there was something special about your squad that enabled her to survive such an ordeal as the one she underwent in the last few days. So either you see her as a helpless child who needs your protection or you see her more clearly than any of us."

Jas forced himself not to clench his fists as he replied, and tried to keep himself exhibiting a loose posture. He had to make his words careful because this cousin of Les'ika's seemed to know far too much already. "We rescued a frightened woman who was emotionally tortured by being forced to watch a cloned man die brutally. She depended on us to be her stability and her strength, and in the days after her ordeal, she was the one who surprised us with her compassion and her generosity. So, if you wish to accuse me of seeing her more clearly than any of you, then it is true. The princess is much more than the child she is perceived to be by those closest to her."

Duchess Janelle did not relent her stare, but her voice was no longer in the stiffness of an interrogator. Instead, it was full of pity and sympathy. "Arlesse was not given much of a chance to live in reality, and she still believes in wishes and dreams. Her future requires someone in it who will teach her everything that has been denied to her, yet she needs someone to protect her at the same time. I'm afraid such a companion is difficult to find, and there is little interest from her own peers because of those limitations."

Jas felt his chest tighten, thinking back to how Les'ika had been nearly destroyed by just words, the convincing sounding twist of truth that Zech had planted in her mind and how it caused her to doubt everything she had ever known her entire life. Jas knew that if Zech's treatment of her was any indication as to how these supposed nobles talked to her behind these palace walls, then he had done right to suggest Tarj as her ally.

Lowering his eyes to the floor, Jas had the sudden image in his mind of Les'ika searching for happiness and kindness, seeking a man who would keep her safe while never undermining her. Looking up again, Jas watched in his memory Les'ika's hand upon his armor and how it began the tumble of his emotions that he never knew could exist. He thought about how days later he had taken her hands and gently forced her to fire his blaster, the lesson in defense something he was certain she would never have behind the walls of the palace.

Jas had been aware of how his emotions for Les'ika seemed to only strengthen in their short time together, and he knew she felt equally for him. Even though Jas had seen how Les'ika would receive her father's constant compassion, the thought of leaving her caused him pain in a way he didn't believe was possible, and it gave him the sensation of having a hole in his chest, an emptiness that would forever be there once he departs from Tochin soil.

"I don't understand why you are telling me this," Jas finally said, doing his best to keep concealed the emotions that wanted to rip free from his mental box, the emotions that tried more than once to get him to explore the palace and find Les'ika.

"Remove from the equation her status as royalty and your accelerated aging," Duchess Janelle challenged. "And tell me honestly how you truly feel about her."

Jas closed his eyes and took a silent breath. If there was any way in the entire shabla universe, he would never leave Les'ika. Opening his eyes, he told the duchess, "I believe you see more clearly than you admit, and I will neither confirm nor deny what you believe to know."

"I perceived as much," she responded gently, smiling warmly for him. "Arlesse's father and I have seen that she has returned changed, but she remains as silent as you regarding the particulars of her ordeal. In my experiences, silence is often louder than words, and my task here was to gain better knowledge as to who you really are. I am relieved to know that honest men still exist in the galaxy, and I truly am sorry to have deceived you. It was a necessary evil for the undertaking I was requested to fulfill."

Moving towards the hallway now, Janelle turned back for a brief moment. "Rian, the messenger boy who brought you here, will escort you back to your squad now."

Jas opened his mouth to inquire further about the duchess' quest for information from him but stopped short as he wondered just how he was going to ask such a question without incriminating either himself or Les'ika, and by the time he had come to any kind of coherent thought, the duchess was long gone.

Rian smiled cheerfully as he returned, the youthful awe still glazed in his eyes as he looked over the gray-colored armor. As he led Jas out of the room, he boasted proudly, "I'm going to join the Tochin guards when I turn eighteen."

Jas put a hand on the boy's shoulder and stopped him. "The glory is never worth the sacrifice."

Then, moving ahead of the confused messenger, Jas worked his way down the hallways and back to his brothers.