SWCW: A 501st Story: Brothers in Arms

Chapter 5: Escape of a Frozen Soldier

The heavy metal door slid shut behind Karno, leaving him alone with the echo of his heartbeat and the weight of Admiral Tanks' unsettling questions. Something prickled beneath his skin, a sense of being manipulated like a pawn on a holochess board. He couldn't confide in Yeldog, not yet, not until he understood the Admiral's true motives.

The restricted archives beckoned, a vault of classified intel promising answers at a dangerous price. Steel resolve settled in his gut. He'd tread the line, gather intel, and protect his brothers, even if it meant defying orders.

Meanwhile, aboard his flagship, Admiral Tanks steepled his fingers, a predatory glint in his eyes as he replayed their conversation. Karno's guarded responses, the flicker of unease beneath his stoic facade - everything confirmed his suspicions. This clone, harboring the echoes of Revan's power, was the key to tipping the galactic scales.

"Sergeant Major Karno," the Admiral murmured, his voice a silky snare. "A fascinating specimen, wouldn't you agree? Three months under Separatist control, yet untouched by their influence. Impervious to interrogation, but your eyes... they betray a flicker of something more."

Karno stood ramrod straight, his every muscle tensed. "I am loyal to the Republic, sir. Your questions were answered truthfully."

Tanks chuckled, a chilling sound that echoed in the sterile silence. "Truth is subjective, Sergeant Major. What one chooses to reveal, or omit, speaks volumes. Your silence on certain matters... intriguing."

"I have nothing to hide, sir," Karno pressed, his voice unwavering, though his mind raced to decipher the Admiral's veiled threats.

"Then perhaps you'll be equally forthcoming about your... abilities," Tanks leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The whispers within the ranks, the rumors of your... unorthodox combat prowess. Tell me, Sergeant Major, have you ever felt the Force flow through you?"

Karno's heart hammered against his ribs. Had the Admiral discovered his secret? Or was this a calculated gamble, a trap to expose him? He feigned ignorance, his brow furrowing.

"The Force, sir? I'm just a soldier, trained to the best of my ability."

Tanks' predatory smile widened. "Denial is a curious defense, Sergeant Major. But fret not, your secret is safe with me. For now." The smile turned cold, the predator circling its prey. "But know this: your talents, your... connection, are of great interest to me. And the Republic..." he paused, his gaze heavy, "may not always appreciate such unique... gifts."

A bead of sweat trickled down Karno's temple. He understood the veiled threat, the unspoken blackmail. His loyalty, his very freedom, hung precariously in the balance.

"Then perhaps, sir," he said, his voice low and measured, "it would be wise not to test that appreciation."

Tanks laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Indeed, Sergeant Major. Indeed. We have much to discuss, you and I. Consider this a... test of your discretion. Fail me, and the Republic's narrow-mindedness may not be your biggest concern."

Karno saluted, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He had bought himself time, but at what cost? Now, caught between the Republic's suspicion and the Admiral's manipulative agenda, he had to walk a tightrope, playing a dangerous game where loyalty, truth, and even his own identity were pawns on a galactic chessboard.

Count Dooku's pacing echoed in the dimly lit Sith sanctum, the holographic image of Viceroy Nute Gunray shimmering before him. Each flicker in the transmission fueled his frustration.

"Incompetent fool!" Dooku thundered, the force of his voice causing Gunray to cower. "He escaped? How could a single clone trooper slip through your grasp again?"