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Communication is spotty on Coruscant. It had been since the very first days of the war, which has always frustrated Fox immensely.
It’s not like he has much to talk about, but he wishes it was easier to keep up with his vode on the frontlines. He has to make do with the occasional message, or whatever short visits can be managed during shore leave.
And it’s not like he is completely unaware that all their messages are monitored—they’re a military unit, of course they are—but he hadn’t really given it much thought.
Before today, anyway.
“...Sir?” he says, unable to help the wariness that creeps into his voice.
Fox holds the datapad that the Chancellor handed to him like it’s a bomb, and he doesn’t consider it much of an exaggeration.
“Please take a look at that, Commander,” Palpatine says, waving a hand as he gives a weary sigh. “One of our technicians noted a communication that I found rather… alarming. I’d like to get your opinion on it.”
Fox grunts in acknowledgement, booting it up. He expects to see evidence of a senator colluding with the separatists, or maybe even insurgents within the army itself, but he freezes.
It’s not enemy action.
It’s a chain text from a group of clones—his training squad. The vode that he’d risked his life for during their later years on Kamino, vode that he’d barely seen since his deployment to Coruscant.
wolffee: everyone ready for the meet-up tonight?
CoCody: Yep. Pretty much everyone who’s going to be dirtside has responded. Only waiting on Gree.
blyguy: Yay!! I’m excited!!
pondplural: We can tell lol
blyguy: Hey, so are we inviting Fox?
wolffee: lol no?? Why would we
CoCody: I mean he was part of our training group on Kamino. And he’s stationed on Coruscant. It would be rude not to invite him.
pondplural: Yeah but like. This is supposed to be a fun time for us. And do any of us actually like Fox??
CoCody: He’s fine. Not who I would invite out for a drink, but he’s not a complete asshole.
pondplural: ‘not who i would invite out for a drink’ isn’t that just proving my point?? I'm not saying he’s a seppie or something. I just don’t really wanna hang out with him on my day off you know
blyguy: I would just feel weird about seeing him out on patrol or something and not even offering for him to join us.
wolffee: think of it this way - we’ll have a better time without him, and if he came only for us to be tense and moody the whole time, he’ll have a shitty night too. we’re sparing both of us by just not bringing it up in the first place.
blyguy: No, you’re right. It would be kinda awkward tbh. Probably better this way.
They move on after that, discussing their plans for leave, but Palpatine reaches out for the datapad, and so Fox returns it numbly, surprised that his hands aren’t shaking.
“So you see my point, Commander,” the Chancellor says gravely, steepling his hands in front of him. “I want to encourage cohesion within our units. Now, I am certainly not expecting you to address this situation entirely on your own. But if your fellow Commanders do not wish to engage with you… Perhaps it would be for the best that you comply with that desire for now. Just until you find a solution.”
Fox blinks, just once. He hadn’t even realized there was a gathering tonight. No one had told him.
“Yes sir,” he says. He’s never been more glad to be wearing a helmet. “I’ll take that into consideration. Thank you.”
He hates to say it, hates expressing his gratitude to Palpatine, of all people, who almost certainly manipulated these messages in some way (he’s literally witnessed the man do the same to his political rivals—why would this be any different?), but he knows what the Chancellor wants to hear.
“Of course, Commander,” Palpatine says, and he smiles. It’s a wretched, slimy thing, and Fox barely resists a shudder at the sight. “Anything for the Republic.”
Yeah, sure.
Fox leaves with light steps, walking purposefully. He needs to go back to his office. He has more paperwork that he needs to fill out—always more, regenerating any time he puts so much as a dent in it. He barely even has time to sleep anymore, especially on top of all his other duties.
Even if they asked, Fox probably would have declined. He just doesn’t have the time.
But it would have been nice to be asked.
He shakes his head, dislodging the thought as he makes his way into the barracks.
There’s nothing that he can do about it, and if that is their true opinion of him, Fox can accept that. It’s… disheartening, because he thought that their time on Kamino had at least made them friends, but he can’t control other people’s feelings.
Palpatine is a bastard of the highest degree, but he’s right about one thing; Fox needs to handle this delicately.
That’s exactly what he’s thinking about after he sends out a comm to Thorn, waiting for his arrival as Fox steadily makes his way through the mountain of datapads on his desk; and someone knocks on the door.
That was quick. Thorn was probably nearby already—his own shared office isn’t far.
“Sir?” It’s Thorn, and Stone is with him as well, a tinge of curiosity on his otherwise blank face.
Unsurprising. Fox didn’t usually pull his fellow Commander away from their own duties unless he can help it.
And in this situation…
Really, Fox should go do it himself, just in case they want to ask him any questions, but Palpatine’s words are echoing in his mind. It’s probably better that he keeps his distance.
“Thorn, you’re going to the meet-up at 79s later, right?”
Thorn and Stone share a shifty look, like they think Fox isn’t paying attention just because he isn’t looking at them.
“Well, a few of my batchmates will be there, so I thought I would drop in between shifts,” he says cautiously, like he expects a reprimand, and something in Fox aches that he’s made his subordinates so wary of him.
“When you go, please remind the visiting Commanders that all inner and outer-battalion communication is monitored and recorded. They should be keeping everything workplace appropriate.”
Thorn stiffens, and even Stone winces, face coloring slightly.
“Uh, yes, sir,” Thorn answers miserably, shoulders hunched. Fox has no desire to know exactly what kind of messages Thorn has been sending to look that queasy. “I’ll make a note of it.”
“See that you do,” Fox nods, never looking up from his datawork.
The collar around his throat is slowly choking the life out of him, but he can do at least this much.