Chapter Text
Fox turned over the small, silver cylinder. In his short experience with Jedi, there was usually…. He looked up at the two Guards still standing at attention before him.
“Where’s the Jedi?”
Tally, the higher ranking of the two, hesitated, confusion flitting across his face. “..the….Jedi? Sir?”
“Yes,” Fox shoved back from his desk. “Usually there’s a Jedi at the other end of these things.” He gingerly set the shiny cylinder down. Tally stared at it, confusion now clearly displayed. Fox glanced between him and the lightsaber. It suddenly dawned on him that Tally had gone from Kamino to the Guard, and the Guard didn’t have a Jedi. Unlike CC clones, he wouldn’t have gotten much training on the people who might lead him.
“It’s a lightsaber,” Fox said.
Tally’s mouth dropped open. Behind him, Verily stiffened. Tally resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder, all too-vividly recalling how their squad had fooled around with the weird object when Verily picked it up.
“Hey, look!” Verily raised his arm, and the squad turned to eye his newest discovery. He pointed the grimy object in his hand at them. “It’s a pre-Coruscant relic!”
Trevin had snorted. “No, you di’kut. It’s a piece of trash.”
“Is not!” Verily indignantly sniffed, “It’s heavy, which means its made of good metal, not some cheap stuff. And its shiny!” He triumphantly rubbed a little of the grime off, revealing a shiny metal underneath.
“Hey, I wanna see.” Dutch shoved back from where he’d been taking point to examine the weird thing Verily held out. The other vode crowded around, curious why such a big fuss was being made over such a dingy little item.
Tally and Copper had gotten back from their side-excursion just in time to see Trevin atop a dumpster, poised in a very un-clone-like position, the weird object held defensively in front of him. Tally halted abruptly.
“Raise your other hand a bit more!” Dutch called. Trevin obeyed, and suddenly it clicked for Tally. He snapped a quick holo on his helmet cam before joining the fun.
“Behold, Jedi Master Trevin!” somebody hooted. The whole squad broke into a fit of laughter. Trevin swatted the air, adding in the sounds for what they imagined a lightsaber would make. They’d only seen holos of the Jedi and their famed weapons.
“All right, let’s keep going,” Tally chuckled. Trevin obediently hopped down from the dumpster. He handed the cylindrical item to Tally, who thoughtfully hefted it in his hand. It was heavy, much heavier than he’d thought. A brief exam showed not much, and he handed it back to Verily. “Might wanna clean it up and see what it is,” he suggested.
Now, as Tally and Verily stood before Fox, digesting what he’d said, Tally paled. If they’d accidentally ignited the weapon while fooling around with it… they didn’t even know which end the blade came out of, much less how to turn it off. Verily had made the right choice deciding to turn it in to their Commander after realizing it was an expensive, fancy item. Fox was studying them, and Tally closed his mouth.
“A lightsaber, sir…?”
Fox hummed. His expression grew distant, and Tally managed to relax a little. Abruptly, Fox pushed back from his desk and rose. “No sign of a struggle or dead Jedi lying around?”
“No, sir.” Tally searched his near-perfect memory of the nondescript alley, There had been nothing unusual. Fox had that thoughtful look again.
“All right. Thank you, Sergeant. Verily.”
Tally felt the familiar, fond glow as Fox not only recalled the trooper’s name, but acknowledged him in their dismissal. He withdrew from the office, hiding the little grin under his bucket.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Fox sat there--staring at his new problem--for far too long. Finally, he reached for his comm, tapping in Sketch’s familiar frequency. It only took moments for the front-desk clone to pick up, and his cheery accent caused Fox to feel a tiny flare of humor despite the situation.
“Sketch, I need you to see if any Jedi are deployed on Coruscant at this time.”
Momentary, confused silence followed. “As far as I’m aware, there’s a whole bloody temple full of the buggers!”
Fox pushed down his frustration, “Yes, living. Are there any deployed though? Like we sometimes deploy a special-ops squad here on Coruscant, despite being based here.”
“Ah, I get ye…” Sketch’s tone was already a little distracted as he searched. Fox shuffled a few datapads, then sighed and picked up the lightsaber. He was reasoning that no Jedi merely wandering from the Temple would get into the area Verily had found the saber in. It was a fine weapon, plain compared to some other lightsabers. Black grip bands encircled several points, the rest a solid silver. Fox wondered what color the blade would be.
“Sir? There’s nothing about any Jedi being deployed on triple-zero.”
Fox huffed softly, “All right, thank you, Sketch.”
His door slid open at that moment, Thorn appearing. “Commander Fox.” Neither his voice nor mannerisms gave anything away, but Fox somehow knew at a glance that something was wrong. He half-rose, sending the datapad in his lap clattering to the floor.
“It’s the people, sir. They’re gathering, and they’re angry.”
Fox pressed his lips together, suppressing the urge to snarl. He snatched up his bucket and bolted out the door. Thorn hurried ahead. Halfway to the front desk, Fox hesitated when he realized he still gripped the lightsaber. He glanced back toward his office, then down at the valuable weapon. He couldn’t afford going back, nor leaving it lying around the base.
He clipped it to his belt, and ran after Thorn.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The Coruscant Guard was terrifyingly effective. Often, GAR brothers forgot that most of their vode on Coruscant were elite shock troopers, trained for critical situations. Once they reached Coruscant, Fox had trained his men even further, teaching them how to stay alive on the nightmare known as Triple Zero, a safe world for others, a deathtrap for the clones stationed there. Fox took the highly trained men given to him, and honed them into an emotionless, perfect representation of the clones that the Republic wanted to see.
Fox tried to protect those who refused to fit into the mold. He usually failed. The Corries learned fast; blend or die.
Now, they put every bit of their training to use. Red and white troopers, outfitted with shields and standing in a solid wall between the crowd and the Senate, faithfully stood guard. Their blasters rested in their holsters, set to stun per Fox’s orders. Everyone knew that no blasters would be drawn, no matter how many Corries died that day. Only if a Senator was in danger would the Coruscant Guard use their weapons.
Per Fox’s orders.
It hurt Fox, to tell his men to not defend themselves. To tell them to take the beatings given them. To tell them to never strike back at their abusers. He knew they would suffer much worse if they acted. After a few weeks, they didn’t need him to tell them. They knew.
Fox paced the line in front of his troopers, keeping himself between the crowd and his men. The crowd reluctantly parted when they recognized the unwavering presence of the Marshal Commander marching toward them. He managed to give his troops a little respite, a few seconds to breathe before the crowd flung themselves at the riot shields again, screaming and hurling abuses at the clones.
Fox’s comm blinked, and he muted his external mike to take the call. “Commander Fox.”
“Fox, it’s Thire,” he was breathless, “I got a call from one of my squads on level 2003. They just found Senator Chuchi. She’s asking for me, but I can’t get down there right now.”
Fox jolted. Senator Chuchi should have been up, safe in her apartment or senate office. He’d gotten no notifications of a senator descending into the lower levels, or getting kidnapped. “Have your Sergeant send me a ping and hold location. I’ll handle it.”
“Thanks, Fox.” Thire sounded as though he was in the middle of a foot chase, or something equally grueling. “It’s Lehi and his squad.”
A few minutes later, a notification pinged on his HUD as Thire’s Sergeant turned on his locator beacon to guide Fox to them. Fox commed Thorn, and handed control over to him while making his way toward a shuttle to the lower levels. While he hated leaving his men, he also knew that Thorn was a capable Commander.
If a Senator called, the Coruscant Guard answered. Fox pulled up Senator Chuchi on HUD. Pantoran. She was pretty. He quickly brushed away the thought. What was the Pantoran senator doing on level 2003? As the lift ground to a halt, Fox jumped down the step. Sergeant Lehi’s ping led him winding through the buildings. His HUD flickered, and Fox paused.
It glitched, then cut out entirely, leaving him staring through his dark visor in confusion. He reached up, tapping his bucket. He could function without his HUD, but he wouldn’t be able to find Lehi. Abruptly, it came back online. Fox frowned, noting that Lehi’s location had moved. He swung, adjusting his course a little. He knew equipment was finicky below level 3000, getting worse the further down the Corries went. It wasn’t usually this bad, though.
He turned a corner, and it was sheer instinct that had him duck the first punch. He came up under it, driving into the dark figure with an armored shoulder. There was a whuff of air as Fox drove the air from the beings lungs. He twisted, grabbing an appendage and yanking his attacker over his shoulder. The being went flying through the air, landing hard against the alley wall. Fox hesitated, glancing around for more attackers.
That was his second mistake.
His first was not drawing his blaster the instant he’d gotten the chance.
The loud explosion threw him down the alley. He lay still, ears ringing even through his bucket. He gritted his teeth, forcing his shaking limbs to cooperate and stand. One hand against the wall for support, he drew a blaster. His HUD sputtered, then steadied. A few notifications flashed, and he silenced them, changing the setting for something more appropriate for the narrow, smoke-filled alley. It showed nothing. He wondered if there was a connection between his attacker and the explosion, deciding there was almost as soon as he considered. He didn’t believe in coincidences.
He ran a quick check of himself, finding all his limbs working. His armor had protected him beyond the ringing of his ears and rapidly forming bruises where he’d hit the ground. The blast had been more noise than action. He swung around, trying to locate Thire’s Sergeant again.
His HUD brought up the map, and he started rapidly walking. He felt no desire to go back and ensure his attacker was dead. All he wanted was to find his men, find the senator, and get everybody back to the surface.
Alive.
He’d only gone ten or fifteen paces when a “high heat” alert flared on his HUD, microseconds before the explosion hit him.
There was a shrieking, grating noise from above, distant, and annoying. “Nothing like being blown up twice in less than ten minutes…” he groggily thought to himself. He had no idea how long it had been. He wiggled a little, feeling a warm wetness down his backplate. Something heavy lay across his chest. He shoved at it, feeling pain spark lightly down his back. It was manageable. He ignored it and pushed harder. The thing budged, and suddenly murky light flowed into his little hole.
“Commander!” somebody hollered. No, not somebody. A vod. He tried to answer, ash catching in his throat. He coughed, and the rattle of feet turned toward him.
“Get this off!” a vod order. The heavy object across Fox lifted, and he gasped, drawing a breath he hadn’t known he needed. Somebody was kneeling by his side. A scarred section on his pauldron showed where his medic’s sign had been scratched off; the Coruscanti people could be more cruel than a warzone.
“Are you hurt, Commander?” He slid a careful hand behind Fox as the latter sat up, running over his checks.
“Nothing vital,” he reported, coughing again to clear the ash and dust from his lungs. His helmet filters couldn’t keep up with the amount in the air. “Are you with Sergeant Lehi?”
The medic nodded, body language grim. “He was just killed in a skirmish. Can you walk? We need to get out of here.”
Blaster shots reinforced his words, and Fox lunged to his feet fast enough he felt blackness begin to close in before his body system caught up with him. The medic took his elbow, and Fox allowed him to, anxiously scanning the area.
“How many of your squad are here?”
“Three, counting me.”
Fox winced. What had happened down here? He’d hoped the two Corries he could see flanking them were not all that was left. “And the Senator?”
The medic obviously faltered. “I’m sorry, sir. We never found a senator. It was a trap.”
“It’s not your fault…?”
“Tekoda.”
“Tekoda,” Fox repeated. “Your Sergeant did the right thing calling for me.”
“We didn’t want you, sir.” Tekoda was getting even more agitated as they picked their way through the rubble. “You were the one they wanted. It’s a trap specifically for you.”
“Oh.” Fox couldn’t think of anything else to say. His mind raced ahead. If this was a trap for him, and it failed--which it obviously had--then they would try again. He suddenly shoved Tekoda ahead. “Get your teammates out.”
“But sir!”
“Get them out!” Fox reinforced his words with a beskar tone, and Tekoda reluctantly motioned for the other Corries to follow. The three hurried ahead, Fox lingering on the rubble. He bared his teeth, aware of blood trickling from his nose within his helmet. He couldn’t save the entire squad, but he’d be dammed if he lost every man of them.
He half-expected the blaster bolt that found him, perched atop the rubble in order to distract from his men. He certainly expected the pain following the hit. He crumpled, trying to give an accurate impression of a dead man as his body glitched in pain. Another bolt glanced off his helmet. His HUD flickered wildly at the last blow, and pain lanced through his head, but no warning flow of blood. He forced himself to stay still among the crumbled building. He expected the sniper to stay trained on him until they were sure he was down for good.
He didn’t expect Tekoda to return.
Tucked amongst the rubble and still dazed, he didn’t notice until strong arms grabbed his backplate and pulled. He almost gave up his act, coming alive under Tekoda’s unexpected touch, but just in time managed to stay limp and flop over. The medic’s skilled hands darted over him, searching for the wound. A blaster shot skimmed overhead, and Tekoda cursed. Fox twitched a little.
“Get out of here!” he hissed. Tekoda visibly startled, glancing down at Fox, who cursed softly. “They think I’m dead! Get out of here!” He trusted himself to get away once his men were safe.
“No!” Tekoda snarled. He flipped Fox around to a little different angle, seizing him under his shoulders. As another bolt crashed dangerously close, he lunged for the nearest cover, dragging Fox. An explosion sounded nearby, and a heavy weight dropped over Fox as Tekoda threw himself over his Commander in a protective manner. He whuffed at the expelled air, feeling the heat from the grenade washing over them.
A distant part of his brain noted that his thermal regulation must have been destroyed for him to feel the heat so easily, and he made a mental note to try and get ahold of a new thermal regulator before his next patrol in the lower levels. The lower levels could get deadly cold.
Tekoda scrambled off Fox as the shock waves dissipated, yanking his Commander the last few feet to relative cover. He heard the seals on his helmet pop, and then he was blinking through shadowy, dusty light up at Tekoda’s dark visor.
The medic only took a moment to gently prod around Fox’s head and ensure the blaster bolt had only glanced off the helmet before hurriedly returning Fox’s helmet. All the medics knew the safety that came with a helmet.
He ripped into the cuirass, nimble fingers undoing straps to get to the bleeding that stained his fingers and caused his adrenaline to shoot up. Fox’s gentle catch on his wrist paused him.
“It’s ok, Tekoda,” Fox murmured, voice low, but reassuring. Tekoda breathed out, allowing his Commander’s confidence to carry him.
“I got the others out!” The words spilled from his lips. Fox nodded.
“Good, good. We need to go.” He lurched forward. Hastily, Tekoda shoved him back.
“Please sir! Just wait while I get a pressure bandage on that. I’ll have a better chance of getting out alive if you don’t pass out from blood loss.”
Fox grunted irritably, but sunk back against the hard ground. Tekoda certainly knew how to pull the right strings. Definitely a little brother. He must have let the words slip out because Tekoda let out a breathless little laugh.
“Yessir. I’m everyone’s kihvod .”
Fox took the momentary lull to run a system checks on his kit. At least his helmet was still working, showing nobody approaching through the maze of buildings and wafting smoke. As long as his helmet worked-
His HUD went dark. Fox swore softly. He began checking his armor system, getting progressively more discouraged the further he checked.
Tracking system? Offline.
Night vision? Offline.
Heart rate? Offline. That was ridiculous, thought Fox. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, likely far faster than it was safe. Perhaps it was good the system wasn’t tracking it; it would probably be alerting him--and Tekoda--to a dangerously elevated heart rate.
Comms? Offline.
Emergency locator? Offline.
Fox huffed softly, swearing again under his breath. Every system was down. His fancy, high-tech helmet was no better than an expensive speeder helmet now.
“Done, sir.” Tekoda was tightening the straps on his cuirass. Fox hissed in pain as he tugged them against the bandage he’d secured under the armor, drawing only a mildly apologetic look from his medic. Fox knew it was a technique passed around medics in the Guard. At first, it had merely been to hide injuries from natborns who would have them decommissioned. Then, Toch had realized the value of using the armor as a make-shift pressure bandage, as their own emergency supplies were woefully lacking.
Fox gathered his feet under him, trying to keep Tekoda between him and the wall as they hurried toward the lift. It wasn’t far. The medic had a little tussle at the door, then relented to go in first, dragging Fox after him despite his preference to put his patient on the lift before of him. Fox wearily leaned against the side as Tekoda punched the button for the top level. The lift groaned and squeaked ominously, then began slowly rising. Fox eyed the level as they left it.
A chill that had nothing to do with shock ran over him as he saw a shadowy figure dart from a corner to stand near the hole, staring at the lift as it rose.
Fox decisively turned away, knowing there was nothing he could do.