Republic Commando: Phi Squad

Short: Grief Counseling

ArcaCompany Barracks, 348 Days After Geonosis

"I miss him," Ka'rtasays simply into his holorecorder, a tear gleaming in his brown eye."General Jusik has helped a lot, but nothing can replace Ca'ad.Nothing and nobody. No amount of grieving, no amount of counseling,can fill the empty bunk to my right. No one can wear those armorplates in the corner like he did."

The medic's gaze focuseson something off the camera. The twenty-two matte black platesstacked in the corner. More tears streaked the clone's face.

"It's so stupid, all ofit. The way Ajax keeps brushing us off like flies, the way Bucklercollapses every time he even glimpses those plasteel plates in thecorner. The way I can never seem to bring a fork up to my facewithout crying, remembering he'll never again be around to share ameal with us. Even trying to sleep is a chore. I am haunted by thedream I had last night. Everything plays out the same as it did thatday on Carlac, until we get into the shuttle and leave. He screams,still alive. I can't escape the dreams, the feeling that we lefthim there to become a hostage of Death Watch. That we left him thereto die."

The commando looksobsessively at his hands.

"The blood stains arestill there. No matter how much I try to scrub them away, his bloodstays in my gloves. I know it's his blood. I haven't so much aslooked at any other blood since yesterday."

The door behind him slidesopen, and Ka'rta carefully saves his recording and shuts down therecorder before looking back to see who has entered.

Another clone commando, hiswhite armor trimmed with purple, takes a seat on the bunk across fromthe medic, removing his striped helmet. The face beneath is streakedwith white, all that remains of freshly dried tears. All the same, hehas a look of composure and calm.

The new arrival sighs,burying his face in two large, black gloves. A sob escapes his lips.

"So much paperwork," theclone says. "So many reports to file. And all of it only means onething. Our brother, comrade, and friend is never going to come backto the Republic, dead or alive. The Jedi think that it's too muchof a risk to send anyone after the body, and he's definitely deadby now, with as many of those shabla kyrt'sad were swarmingus. They've probably taken his armor and stripped it for anythinguseful. It's awful."

Ka'rta says nothing, butcan't help agreeing with his sergeant Ajax.

The door slides open again,and another armored figure enters, this one colored in green andyellow.

Ajax speaks first to thegreen one. "How was your debrief, Buck?"

Buckler heaves himself ontothe bunk above Ka'rta, letting his feet dangle over the side."Fine, I guess. General Zey grilled me for a long time about howunnecessary my anger is, and that this whole fiasco isn't my fault. Ithink he feels a little guilty."

"Guilty? A Jedi?" Ka'rtawonders. "They don't feel emotion."

"No," Buckler responds."They just hide it. Sometimes they can't control it, and a littleslips out into the open."

The room stayed silent, andBuckler glanced at the empty bunk. Hadn't it been his fault? Ca'adwas dead because of his bacta addiction, and Buckler had stood asideand watched it happen. It was my fault. There's no two ways aboutit. I did nothing while he injected his life away. A tear falls downhis cheek, fresh and hot.

"Buckler," Ajax saysadmonishingly, "you did everything you could. Look at me."

Buckler gazes at his leader,almost daring him to say something cliche or unhelpful.