Chapter 33 : The Captain's Meeting - Part 1
The cantina is neutral ground—Level 1847, frequented by Republic military off-duty. Not somewhere CS conducts raids. Not somewhere Jedi typically investigate. Public enough that violence is discouraged by presence of witnesses.
I arrive fifteen minutes early, securing booth in corner with good sightlines. R4 hovers nearby, sensors sweeping constantly. Eight maintains silent presence in neural interface, ready to provide tactical analysis.
Captain Rex arrives at exactly 1400 hours. Civilian clothes—gray jacket, dark pants—but military bearing is unmistakable. He moves like soldier even without armor: efficient steps, tactical awareness, assessing threats automatically.
The Appraisal function struggles with him:
[ CT-7567 "REX" - CLONE CAPTAIN, 501ST LEGION ]
[ COMBAT CAPABILITY: EXCEPTIONAL ]
[ EMOTIONAL CONTROL: EXTREME ]
[ LOYALTY: 94% TO REPUBLIC, 87% TO GENERAL SKYWALKER, 96% TO CLONE BROTHERS ]
[ ASSESSMENT: EVALUATING MASTER AS THREAT OR ASSET ]
[ DECEPTION DETECTION: HIGH ]
He sits across from me without preamble. "Kade Varro. You're the merchant arming my brothers off the books."
Not accusation. Statement of fact delivered with professional neutrality.
"I supply equipment GAR won't authorize. Your brothers pay fair prices."
"Fair prices to desperate soldiers. That's exploitation." His voice is level but edge is present. "They pool every credit they have because Republic abandons them. You profit from that abandonment."
"He's not wrong. That's exactly what I'm doing."
"Republic creates the desperation. I meet the demand. If you want villain, look at procurement officers who deny soldiers proper equipment while Jedi get unlimited requisitions."
Rex doesn't immediately argue. That surprises me. Expected defensive loyalty to Republic command. Instead, he leans back, studying me with calculating eyes.
"You're not wrong," he finally says. "Republic treats clones as equipment, not soldiers. Command denies requests for better gear while prioritizing officers and Jedi. I've watched brothers die from equipment failure when proper supplies would have saved them."
Bitterness in his voice—carefully controlled but present. Rex is loyal but not blind. The institutional failures bother him deeply.
"I help your brothers survive. That makes me better than generals who send them to die with inadequate supplies."
"Or it makes you vulture profiting from their suffering." He picks up menu absently—need for action while thinking. "Difference is vultures don't pretend altruism. You're honest about being merchant. That's something."
Silence stretches. Cantina noise fills gap—conversations, clinking glasses, background music. We're two people having normal discussion to external observers. Reality is far more complex.
"Marker speaks highly of you," Rex continues. "Says you provide quality equipment without reporting to command. That you treat clones like customers instead of assets. High praise from soldiers used to being property."
"Your brothers deserve competent supplier. I provide that."
"You also provide to other clients. Syndicate. Mandalorians. Possibly Separatists." His eyes lock onto mine. "That's where we have problem."
Eight whispers urgently: "Deflect. Do not confirm Separatist connections. Probability of immediate arrest if confirmed: 73.4%."
R4 counters: "Truth. Master has already violated prohibition. Lying to Rex will be detected and destroy negotiation."
"I operate neutrally," I say carefully. "Can't guarantee future clients' political allegiances. War economy creates demand across all factions."
Rex's jaw tightens. "That's not acceptable. You're arming both sides of conflict killing clones daily. My brothers die fighting enemies using weapons you potentially supplied."
"I didn't arm Separatists."
"You said you can't guarantee clients' allegiances. That means you might have. Or will." He leans forward. "Here's where we stand. I can't officially endorse you. Can't stop clone network from buying—they're entitled to spend personal credits. But I can make your operation very difficult if you cross certain lines."
"What lines?"
"Don't sell to Separatists. Don't sell to anyone actively killing clones. Prioritize clone orders over other clients." He counts on fingers. "Three rules. Break them, and you'll discover Republic military intelligence is very effective when motivated."
"He's offering alliance with conditions I've probably already violated."
Eight's analysis floods my consciousness: "Captain Rex proposes alliance protecting clone network access if master agrees to constraints. Recommendation: accept terms despite past Separatist transactions. Probability Rex can verify historical sales: low. Future compliance is manageable."
"And if I can't agree to those terms?"
"Then we have problem." Rex's expression hardens. "I respect what you've done for clones. Quality equipment, fair treatment, no command interference. That matters. But I can't ignore you arming our enemies."
The threat is implicit but clear. Refuse his terms, and Rex becomes active enemy rather than neutral observer. Jedi investigation gets additional evidence from military intelligence.
But accepting means constraints on future operations. Means turning down lucrative Separatist contracts. Means prioritizing lower-profit clone sales over higher-profit alternatives.
"Clone orders get priority," I finally say. "First access to new equipment. But I can't promise never to sell to Separatists—war economy is complex, clients' affiliations are often unclear."
"Then verify affiliations before selling."
"That requires intelligence network I don't have."
"Work with me. I provide intelligence on Separatist operatives. You avoid them. Simple cooperation." He pulls out datapad, transferring file. "Confirmed Separatist agents on Coruscant. Updated weekly. Don't sell to anyone on this list."
I open the file. Thirty-seven names and descriptions. Wrynn—the agent who bought Senate bombing equipment—is on the list. Labeled as "CIS Intelligence, Priority Target."
"I already sold to someone Rex wants arrested."
The past transaction can't be undone. But future compliance is manageable if I'm leaving Coruscant anyway.
"I'll avoid confirmed Separatists. Clone orders get priority. That's what I can promise."
Rex studies me for long moment. "That's something. Not everything I want, but something." He extends hand across table. "We have understanding. Fragile understanding. Cross my brothers, and rank won't save you."
I shake his hand. The grip is firm—soldier's handshake that conveys both respect and warning.
[ RELATIONSHIP ESTABLISHED: CAPTAIN REX (CONDITIONAL ALLIANCE) ]
[ BENEFITS: CLONE NETWORK ACCESS, INTELLIGENCE SHARING, MILITARY PROTECTION (LIMITED) ]
[ CONSTRAINTS: NO CONFIRMED SEPARATIST SALES, CLONE PRIORITY, REPORTING REQUIREMENTS ]
"One more thing," Rex says. "General Skywalker is investigating weapons trafficking. If your name comes up, I can't protect you. But if you keep helping clones and avoid our enemies, I won't volunteer information about your operation."
The warning is clear: Rex won't actively assist my arrest but won't help me either. Neutral stance that preserves clone network while maintaining loyalty to Anakin.
"Understood."
"Good." He stands. "Equipment you've supplied has saved lives. Marker's unit used your armor during Ryloth campaign—zero casualties from equipment failure. That matters more than you know. Just remember whose side you're on."
He leaves. Professional exit that draws no attention. To other cantina patrons, we're just two men who had ordinary conversation.
R4 hovers close. "Master established alliance with individual actively investigating master's criminal activities. Logical assessment: tactically brilliant or suicidally foolish. Potentially both simultaneously."
"Rex provides intelligence on Republic operations. Shields clone network from command interference. That's valuable."
"Rex also has direct communication line to General Skywalker. One mistake, and master's operation is exposed to primary threat."
Eight disagrees: "Alliance is optimal outcome. Captain Rex exhibited honor-bound behavior—unlikely to betray agreement without cause. Master gained strategic asset while accepting manageable constraints."
"Manageable constraints that prohibit lucrative Separatist market."
"Separatist market is secondary to clone network sustainability. Master chose correctly."
I review the meeting while walking back to safehouse. Rex knows about my operation. Has intelligence on my clients. Could report me to Anakin at any moment. But he offered alliance instead—conditional, fragile, but real.
"I'm playing multidimensional chess with people far more experienced. Need to level up fast."
The thought isn't new. Been having it since Grax died in warehouse. But urgency is increasing. Every day, stakes get higher. Enemies get more numerous. Allies get more conditional.
My datapad shows updated balance: 512,095 credits. Fourteen sales completed. Clone network expanding. Mandalorians requesting resupply. Rex providing intelligence. Jedi investigation delayed but approaching.
The pieces are moving faster. Convergence point approaching where all threads intersect simultaneously.
"Master's stress hormones elevated," R4 observes. "Pattern suggests anxiety about multiple concurrent threats. Recommendation: focus on immediate priorities. Departure from Coruscant is scheduled tomorrow. Rex meeting is complete. Remaining task: survive extraction."
"Agreed," Eight adds. "Master has established foundation for Mandalore operations. Clone network provides recurring revenue. Mandalorian connection provides political protection. Rex alliance provides intelligence. All strategic components aligned."
"Except the part where Anakin Skywalker is hunting me and I owe mysterious Buyer undefined favor."
"Minor complications," Eight responds. "Manageable within operational parameters."
"Minor complications that could result in arrest or worse."
"Master's pessimism noted. However, probability of successful extraction: 67.3%. Acceptable odds given alternatives."
I reach safehouse—last night in Coruscant before fleeing to Mandalore. The space that's been temporary home for weeks feels even more temporary now. Everything packed. Equipment secured. Transportation arranged.
Tomorrow I leave. Tomorrow the accumulated decisions of six weeks compress into single departure from planet where I became... whatever I am now.
R4 projects final summary: "Master's Coruscant operations: 14 sales, 512,095 credits accumulated, 107 confirmed casualties enabled, multiple criminal alliances, pending Jedi investigation, neural damage from System overuse, psychological deterioration documented. Assessment: master survived but paid significant costs."
"That's cheerful summary."
"Accuracy is priority. Master should understand full scope of transformation undergone during Coruscant period."
Eight offers alternative perspective: "Master optimized from desperate survivor to successful merchant in six weeks. Casualty count is irrelevant statistical artifact. Credit accumulation and network establishment demonstrate superior adaptation. Assessment: master exceeded baseline survival parameters significantly."
Two AIs. Two interpretations. Same events, completely different conclusions about whether I succeeded or failed.
"Which one of you is right?"
Both respond simultaneously: "Insufficient data to determine objective correctness. Master must decide personal definition of success."
The non-answer is frustrating but accurate. Success and failure are subjective when operating in moral grey areas where every choice has casualties and consequences.
That night, I don't sleep. Just lie in darkness wearing cortosis armor, listening to Coruscant's eternal noise, thinking about tomorrow's departure.
Six weeks ago, I woke in blood-soaked alley next to dead Rodian with floating blue screens promising profit through violence. Six weeks later, I'm fleeing Jedi investigation with half a million credits and relationships spanning Republic military and Mandalorian warriors.
Progress. In some definition that requires either accepting moral compromise or admitting I've become exactly the kind of person I'd have avoided in my previous life.
Morning comes without resolution. Just deadline: extract from Coruscant before Buyer's protection expires and Anakin's investigation resumes with full Republic authority.
The transport to Mandalore leaves at 1400 hours. Thirteen hours until departure. Thirteen hours to finalize extraction and hope nothing catastrophic happens in the gap.
R4 hovers anxiously. "Master's survival probability for next thirteen hours: 78.4%. Concerning but manageable. Recommendation: maintain low profile until transport departure."
"What's the 21.6% failure scenario?"
"Early Jedi investigation resumption, Black Sun final assassination attempt, Buyer betrayal, Rex changing mind about alliance, random catastrophic event. Multiple low-probability scenarios with catastrophic outcomes."
"Comforting."
"Comfort is not primary function. Accurate threat assessment is."
I check equipment one final time. Cortosis armor. Personal shields. Emergency beacon. Backup identities. Everything required for successful extraction to Mandalore where Death Watch operates and Bo-Katan offered refuge.
The path forward is clear. The costs are accumulating. The person I'm becoming is unrecognizable from who I was.
But I'm alive. That counts for something.
Even if I'm not entirely sure what that something is anymore.
Reviews and Power Stones keep the heat on!
Want to see what happens before the "heroes" do?
Secure your spot in the inner circle on Patreon. Skip the weekly wait and read ahead:
💵 Hustler [$7]: 15 Chapters ahead.
⚖️ Enforcer [$11]: 20 Chapters ahead.
👑 Kingpin [$16]: 25 Chapters ahead.
Periodic drops. Check on Patreon for the full release list.
👉 Join the Syndicate: patreon.com/Anti_hero_fanfic