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Seppie attacks are rare, this deep in the Core, but they happen more often than the GAR will likely ever know.
Now, usually, they were of no great magnitude. Isolated attacks on a specific senator, a few droids causing a ruckus, things like that. But every once in a while, something major would occur.
And this is one such instance.
A ground invasion of considerable force, droids already marching the streets of Coruscant as the Guard scrambles to catch up and move everybody else out of the way. There was supposed to be an important bill signing today, one that could have been a breakthrough in establishing diplomatic relations with the Separatists, so Fox isn’t surprised that some idiot decided to crash the party.
Fox is right in the thick of things, as usual, pointing panicking civilians in the direction of the evacuation routes as shocktroopers move in.
He’ll be joining them momentarily, and in fact, is about to pull out his blaster and head to the front, when a short natborn wearing the ill-fitting uniform of the Coruscant Security Force rushes towards him.
Fox takes one look and grimaces.
Ugh. Leland.
Now, Fox is not one to be too… emotional, to put it plainly. He’s always thought of himself as a rather reserved person, (no matter how much Thorn laughed in his face when he’d said that) and he’s long become an expert at letting small indignities slide right off him.
Senators treating him like their personal servant? Sure. The Chancellor calling upon him at all hours of the day, like Fox isn’t a human being that needs to sleep every once in a while? He can deal with it.
But Leland is a whole different matter.
Oh, how young Fox had been in their first meeting, how naive! He’d strutted into that conference room with full confidence that he could take whatever this natborn threw at him, no problem. He’d already been on Coruscant for months at that point, and had taken more than his fair share of losses. What could a CSF officer named Leland do?
Well, for one thing, he was constantly chewing gum. Loudly. Fox had developed such a pathologic reaction to the sound of that pop crackle snap that even the sound of Nightingale pulling on her surgery gloves had caused him to become irrationally angry.
Leland also had the most boring, droning voice that had ever been heard, in the entire galaxy. Fox was confident that testing for this could be done for the next ten thousand years on the voice of every single sentient being on every planet, and fucking Leland would still be at the top of the list.
It wasn’t just those things either. It was everything. Leland never tucked his shirt in. He never bothered to look Fox in the eye when he spoke, and had the nerve to look bored every time Fox was trying to go over important security details.
He’d taken the last cup of caf in the Guard barracks without even asking.
If it was legal for Fox to extrajudicially execute a natborn, there would have been a smoking hole through Leland’s fucking head the second after that happened.
So; the vibes, as Private Cardy would put it, were rancid.
Fox turns away, ignoring the man’s approach as he starts heading towards.
“Commander! Commander, I need to speak with you! CC-1010!”
Fox halts, despite everything in him screaming not to. Leland didn’t usually remember trooper designations, so he’d hoped he could get away with claiming not to know who the CSF officer was calling for, but it seemed like that wouldn’t be possible this time.
“Sir,” Fox greets, as Leland finally catches up. “I’m needed at the front. This isn’t a good time to talk.”
Leland scowls. “There are enough of you out there, I just need a moment!”
Blaster shots are already going off nearby, and Fox can feel his tension rising as he hears his men begin fighting back against the droids crowding the city streets.
“There really aren’t,” Fox says flatly, and turns.
“Wait, wait, what’s going on? We’re the Coruscant Security Force, we need to be kept informed!” the natborn insisted, jogging to keep up with Fox’s long strides.
Now, normally, Fox would be a bit more gracious in his dealings with someone who, however small and meaningless, had some form of authority over him. But right now, he just doesn't have the time.
“The CSF handles domestic crime,” Fox says shortly. He pointedly doesn’t mention the fact that they’ve barely even done that since the Guard were stationed here. “Our battalion is designed to act as exo-planet defense, which I can assure you a Seperatist attack falls under, sir. You aren’t needed here.”
Frankly, he wishes that he could just dismiss the man point-blank, but Fox doesn’t have that kind of power, not even for someone as annoying as this. Long days spent stock-still while some Senator or Aide brought all their complaints to him like he was a garbage can for them to dump their trash in has taught him that much.
Kriff. Fox stops, holding out an arm to block Leland from moving any further.
Troopers are fighting back, but they’re quickly being overwhelmed. With any luck, one of the Jedi at the temple will swing in soon, but for right now, the Guard needs to hold their ground.
“Go back, sir,” he says without turning his head. “It’s not safe. Head to a secure point and stay out of the plaza.”
“Wait, what about you?” Leland says, gripping Fox’s arm in a panic. It’s not very professional, but since when is that new?
“Just get out of here,” Fox says brusquely, shaking off the clinging man. He can afford a little rudeness right now. “Don’t worry about us.”
The natborn lets go, but he doesn’t move. Fox turns towards him, gesturing to the evacuation line not far away.
And Leland… hesitates. Fox looks at this natborn that’s been nothing but a bastard to him, an absolute asshole who seemed to exist just to make Fox’s life harder, who looks concerned for Fox, and the Commander turns away.
“Go,” Fox says—orders. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He raises his blaster, steadies his breathing. This is what he was made for.
“Let’s go, men!” he calls out, and those last strained, scattered voices rise in unison as Coruscant’s protectors step forward.
“OYA!”