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Sometimes Rex wondered if his General would ever learn.
R2D2 had been captured, again. And Skywalker hadn’t wiped the little droid’s memory banks, again. No matter what Cody and Rex tried to say, no matter how diplomatically they worded their disagreement, Skywalker would not be swayed: they were going to rescue R2, at any cost.
With General Kenobi entrenched in politics on Mandalore, Skywalker had temporary control of both the 501st and the 212th. They’d had no choice but to go along with his plan, and as predicted, it had been an unmitigated disaster.
Resulting in their current situation. Rex didn’t know how many of their troops had managed to evade death or capture, but Commander Tano and the damned droid had managed to escape. So there was a possibility of rescue. General Skywalker was in one cell, bound in Force-inhibiting cuffs and locked in with ray shields; Rex and Fives were in mirroring cells across the hallway.
At least, he’d been in a cell, before the Seppies had come in and dragged him out. His armor was gone, along with his shirt; Rex shivered in the cold hands of the Trandoshan fighters.
They pulled him to the end of the hall, where terrifying-looking apparatus lay waiting. Metal cuffs had been welded to a metal frame, braced above an array of spiked electrodes. The whole horrible thing crackled, slightly, as Rex was dragged towards it.
“Strap it in,” the lead Trandoshan snarled. Hands grasped Rex’s shoulders and shoved him in front of the frame.
It. The term didn’t bode well for Rex’s treatment. There’d be a lot more where that came from, and in preparation Rex started the breathing pattern Cody had taught him. His body could take this; it’s what he’d been built for. He’d gone through the interrogation modules, same as every command-track clone.
It hadn’t been fun, but he’d done it.
“What are you doing?” Anakin shouted, ignoring Rex’s silent pleas to shut his trap. “I’m the highest ranking officer here, I should - you should -”
“Do you think we are stupid enough to interrogate a Jedi?” the leader scoffed. His subordinates pulled Rex up and strapped him to the back panel of the machine. Wrists and ankles went in the welded manacles; tight straps bound his chest and legs and neck.
“We’ll start with your cannon fodder, first.”
“But - he won’t tell you anything either!” Anakin’s voice was desperate. He was giving too much away.
“No?” the Trandoshan sneered. “Then perhaps you will.” He nodded; the panel tilted forward on its axis, bringing Rex’s chest closer to the red-hot array. It sparked, making tightly tensed muscles jump; another spark, and another, until his entire torso felt like it was on fire.
A yelp ripped out from Rex’s throat, despite his best efforts, and he kept screaming as the agonizer flooded his system with unrelenting pain.
Finally, the panel tilted him back, and he gasped for air through his raw throat. Tremors shook his body, making Rex almost glad for the restraints - he couldn’t even hold his chin up.
“You will release him!” Anakin was shouting. Fives was staring at Rex, unblinking, even though his jaw was strained so tightly he might crack a molar. Rex stared back, breathing hard, and took what strength he could from his brother.
“The location of the Republic’s bacta factories, please,” drawled the Trandoshan, with a casual hand on Rex’s shoulder.
Rex shook his head minutely. The leader turned to Anakin. “Well?”
Anakin had shifted from helplessness to fury. “I'll kill all you criminals,” he snarled. “I’ll strap you to that machine and-”
“Let’s remember it was you that surrendered, then broke the terms of that surrender,” the leader said mildly. “By galactic law, you are as much of a war criminal as I am.”
“I’m not torturing people like a sick freak!”
“You are,” sneered the Trandoshan, slick and condescending. “You are torturing this clone, by not divulging the location of the factories. Don’t worry. If it dies, you’ll be able to get another one that looks just like it.”
Rex’s stomach clenched with nausea. Even Fives had to drop his gaze at that.
Anakin shook his head. “This is sick, you’re sick.”
“I’m not sure I understand. From a general who is so cavalier about the lives of his troops,” the leader said smoothly, “You seem to care about this meat droid quite deeply. Strange. But I guess I will never understand humans.”
For a moment, Anakin was too shocked to speak. He sputtered, “That’s not - I don’t - that’s not what happened at all!”
“Is it not? What do you think, clone?” Said the leader. He slid a claw under Rex’s chin and lifted it, until Rex’s neck was bent back and he was staring into his eyes.
Rex was too tired to navigate this emotional minefield - he fell back on his training. That’s what it was for. “CT-7567, Captain, 501st Battalion.”
“See!” crowed the Trandoshan. “It even answers like a droid.”