For the longest time, longer than he cared to admit, Rex couldn’t remember what happened on Umbara.
He was told it may have had something to do with Krell messing with their minds before Dogma had killed him. “Jedi can alter memories, hide things and change things, even long after they’ve passed.”
Rex didn’t believe that, or maybe he just didn’t want to. The idea that any remnant of Krell could be crawling around in his head sends beads of cold sweat dripping down his back.
Others accounted it to PTSD. “Things like this can’t be cured with a hypo, CT-7567. It’s something we’ve yet to program out of any living being. Everything and anything can inherently change you, and the mind fights back best by forgetting.”
Rex liked that even less. No matter how terrible, he’d rather remember something than not.
Yet days turned into weeks and he couldn’t piece together exactly what had happened. Bits and pieces came back. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night, positive that he was under attack. Sometimes he’d have his blaster in his and and the sudden inhibition to shoot it washes over him like a wave.
When he finally does choose to remember, because, really, it was always him holding himself back from remembering, it’s when they’re sending Fives’ body back to Kamino to be processed for its genetic material and turned into more clones.
We’re made from our dead brothers, Rex thinks, and with those words, Umbara comes back.
Did they matter, or were they simply replaceable bits of a larger machine? Were they truly any better than droids?
Yes. He has to keep remembering that. They are men, no matter what.