Slaves Of The Empire {1}

Twenty-Five | Diverging Priorities

Even Cody, the unrelenting stickler for protocol, agreed it was worth bringing to the higher ups' attention over the comm. If it was Imperial bantha shit, it was too clever to let stand, and the sooner they busted it the better. If it really was Ahsoka Tano alive and well, that was an opportunity the Rebellion couldn't afford to miss.

So why was he so scared to know the answer?

Rex shook himself as he stood up from his desk, smothering the sentimental suck-up and putting his captain's helm back on. (Metaphorically, at least. He'd left his armor back at base, trading it for a functional but flimsier Alderaanian consular security guard's getup to blend in with the crew.) Last he'd had heard, Senator Bail Organa and Marshal Commander Spike – the only other clone on board – were both in the conference room a short walk from his quarters. He had to speak to them.

He was on duty in an hour, and his shift would carry him through the last stretch of Ahsoka's window. It was now or never. Sighing quietly to himself, he righted his uniform and left the room.

He hummed an old 501st marching song as he walked, something heroic that always calmed his nerves and boosted his morale. It only started to work once he reached the door to the conference room, and by then it was too late to do any good.

Pulling his metaphorical helmet down a little tighter, he rang the bell. Spike was even more of a stickler than Cody, and Rex would get the lecture of his life if he interrupted a meeting.

Thankfully, he wasn't interrupting anything; when Spike answered the door, the room was empty behind him. Rex nearly saluted when he saw the stern scowl on Spike's face, but he stopped himself in the nick of time. Alderaanian troops greeted superior officers with a sharp nod, their backs straight and arms crossed behind them. In such a busy hallway, an old GAR salute would be a dead giveaway.

Spike, decked out in a security guard's outfit the same as Rex, nodded in turn and moved aside to let him in. Bail Organa looked up from the holographic star charts that dominated the center of the conference table and smiled pleasantly.

Rex could never tell with Spike – the guy made grown troopers feel like cadets again with a look – but the Senator liked him, at least. He'd never forgotten the 501st's help on Christophsis, and the man was very liberal with his gratitude.

"Hello, Captain Rex," Organa said, rising to his feet. "How can we help you?"

Rex stood a little taller. He didn't have Fives' charisma, but he could make do with a professional veneer. "I need your permission to break our communications blackout, sirs," he said, looking past them to the shadowy corners of the dim room.

"Out of the question!" Spike snapped. "The supplies may've been delivered, but that doesn't mean we can drop our guard. If the Empire–"

Organa rarely pulled rank when it came to military matters, but this time was different, Rex guessed. He held up a hand patiently and motioned for Rex to go on. Spike begrudgingly fell silent.

With a wary glance at his stewing brother, Rex continued. "Four days ago, just before we entered hyperspace, I received an EF-4 transmission that appeared to be from Jedi Commander Ahsoka Tano."

" 'Appeared'?" Spike echoed.

"Yes, sir. Even if Commander Tano was my CO... and my friend," he added, "I have to be vigilant. She's been MIA for just under thirteen months. The message used all her old codes, but it was distorted and fragmented."

"That has many possible explanations. Traffic on EF-4 is getting heavier all the time, and we don't have the means to clean it up," Organa pointed out.