The Varactyl Squadron Commander (A Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Sixty-One

Blood.

Just one word. One simple, tiny, five-lettered word, and yet it carried an enormous amount of weight in the air as Asemdi strode down the corridor to the exit of her palace. To her, it wasn't just a word. The single syllable wasn't just an object. It was a feeling, a goal, an entity with its own religion. It was the heart and soul of her kingdom, of her planet, her every belief and dream. It was a gift from the ancestors that was meant to be relished and thoroughly enjoyed whenever spilled.

With every step she took, more and more of her royal guard fell into line behind her. Two by two, each man followed the woman with a determination no one from a world anywhere but their own would understand. Not only was it an emotional and spiritual part to their beloved queen, the very essence of the word radiated and seeped from their souls like toxic waste. Even as slaves, they were dedicated beyond all reason to the red liquid that flowed from their enemies' wounds.

Minutes later, the unit of warriors and their leader had made their way to the arena where all hell had broken loose. Their boots crunched in the hot sand as they passed by the rotting corpse of the gorog, its limbs splayed out across the ground as maggots and flies began to feast on the deceased creature's body. It reeked of feces and decay. Asemdi and her soldiers pushed on.

The sewer system below was a dream compared to the bug-infested stench of the dead beast they'd passed above. And as the group continued their trek into the darkness, that one word never ceased to sound over and over again in the cannibal queen's mind.

Blood.

No, it wasn't just a liquid that ran through her body, not just a bond that makes families stronger together like Asemdi's had been less than a day ago. It wasn't just a taste on her tongue or an ingredient in her rituals. It was a promise.

A promise to her dead sister that she intended to keep.

***

It took a minute for the information to process in the jedi general's mind, but not as long as Rex thought it would. He shouldn't have been surprised, considering all the crazy things General Skywalker had been through in his years as a jedi, but the idea of Molindi's dead boyfriend communicating with Rex made his colleague barely bat an eye.

"From what you're telling me, I don't see an issue here," Anakin had pulled up a chair, spun it so it was facing backwards, and straddled the seat with his arms folded on top of the backrest. Rex had stayed put in the doorway though, leaned against the door-frame in an act to look nonchalant to the people outside despite the heat in his cheeks and the nervous stutter of his heart in his chest. "If it's really him, then I'm betting the only reason he's trying to talk to you is to make sure you're a good enough guy to replace him." Rex raised an eyebrow.

"By showing me glimpses of Commander Rino's worst moments of her life?"

"He probably just wants you to know what you're getting yourself into," The general shrugged. "If Commander Rino was like any other woman, she wouldn't be here right now. She wouldn't be fighting alongside a clone army that replaced all of her comrades when the Clone War began. Everyone has faced trauma in their lives, but she's one of the few unfortunate people in the entire galaxy who has been forced to witness their loved ones be eaten alive by cannibals. She isn't a typical soldier, regardless of her gender. Bren probably just wants you to realize that before you start making any serious moves."

Anakin had a good point and to hear Rex's nightmare rationalized put the clone's worries a bit more at ease. It was reasonable; if Rex had been in Bren's position, he would've wanted his loved ones to be in the best hands if he couldn't be with them himself. Letting out a deep breath, he found himself gazing back at the bustling village.