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The GAR liked to pretend assignments were logical. That battalions and Jedi pairings emerged from tactical necessity, personality compatibility, or strategic planning. This was a lie. Mostly assignments happened because some overworked official shuffled paperwork around at three in the morning and decided it looked good enough.
Which was how Commander CC-1010 ended up assigned to the 212th Attack Battalion under General Obi-Wan Kenobi. And Commander CC-2224 was assigned to the Coruscant Guard. This changed everything.
The first thing Obi-Wan Kenobi learned about Commander Fox was that he was terrifying. Not loud terrifying, and, thankfully, not Skywalker-style catastrophic terrifying. He was a quiet kind of terrifying.
Fox arrived on their first deployment already carrying six backup tactical plans, three evacuation contingencies, two assassination countermeasures, and what appeared to be active disdain for the entire Republic chain of command.
Obi-Wan discovered this approximately twelve minutes after meeting him.
“The council believes negotiations remain possible,” Obi-Wan said diplomatically.
Fox looked up from the tactical display.
“They fired artillery at the relief convoy.”
“Yes.”
“So negotiations failed.”
Obi-Wan blinked once. “Well, I wouldn’t phrase it quite so-”
Fox zoomed the holomap outward. “They’re repositioning along the ridge.” A pause. “They’re planning to stall negotiations long enough to surround us.”Obi-Wan stared as Fox continued calmly: “We should strike first.”There was no aggression in his voice, which somehow made it more alarming.
“Commander,” Obi-Wan said carefully, “preemptive assault is generally considered a last resort.”
Fox frowned slightly. “Why?”
That was also the moment Obi-Wan realized something had gone deeply wrong on Kamino. Because Fox did not hesitate morally. He was simply too practical. But it was in a way that made natborn officers profoundly uncomfortable.
The second thing Obi-Wan learned was that Fox expected betrayal instinctively.
“Intelligence leaked our position,” Fox said flatly during their third campaign together.
“You don’t know that.”
Fox stared at him. “The ambush occurred nineteen minutes after transmission.”A beat. “Someone sold us.”
Obi-Wan wanted to disagree, to insist on optimism. Then Fox received a message of intercepted banking transfers linked to a Republic official. Fox wasn’t surprised and Obi-wan found that he wasn’t either.
Meanwhile, on Coruscant, Commander Cody was having an entirely different crisis. Because Cody believed in structure. Procedure. Functional authority. The Coruscant Guard believed all of these things were optional, and, at best, nice suggestions.
“Commander,” a Guard trooper said brightly, “we impounded a senator’s speeder.”
Cody looked up slowly. “You what.”
“He parked in an emergency lane.”
“…Did you issue a citation?”
“We towed it into the lower skylanes.”
Silence. Cody stared at the trooper. The trooper smiled back proudly.
“What is wrong with all of you.”
Another Guard trooper answered immediately: “Coruscant.”
The Guard was chaos wrapped in military precision. They blackmailed criminals, threatened politicians, weaponized bureaucracy, and treated Senate law like an irritating puzzle to solve aggressively. Cody developed stress lines within four months.
Fox in the 212th made the battalion terrifyingly effective. Because unlike Cody might’ve, Fox had absolutely no issue weaponizing fear against anyone opposing them. The issue was that Fox dismantled them psychologically before battles even started.
“Commander,” Boil said carefully, “did you just send the enemy commander his own security codes.”
Fox nodded. “Yes.”
“…Why.”
“He’ll assume there’s a spy.”
Waxer blinked. “But there isn’t.”
Fox smiled at him and it sent a shiver down Waxer’s spine. “There will be in about six hours. They’ll make one up.”
The 212th learned quickly that Fox fought wars like a man deeply familiar with institutional corruption. Probably because he was. Supply chains vanished mysteriously. Enemy officers turned on each other. Bribed officials got exposed publicly. Fox understood systems. Which meant he understood exactly how to break them.
Obi-Wan found this equal parts horrifying and impressive.
“Commander Fox,” Obi-Wan said once, deeply tired, “did you blackmail a planetary governor.”
Fox looked genuinely confused. “I leveraged sensitive information for strategic gain.”
“That is blackmail.”
“Oh.”A pause. “Then yes.”
And yet despite everything, Fox cared about the men under his command with frightening intensity.
Fox trusted almost nobody. Distrusted Natborns instinctively. Assumed corruption automatically. Expected abandonment constantly. But clones? The 212th? Those were his vod. And Fox protected his vod with terrifying efficiency. However, when it came to his own well-being, Fox did not share the same opinion.
“You’re injured,” Obi-Wan said.
Fox continued reviewing reports one-handed.
“It’s minor.”
“You were shot.”
“It missed anything important.”
Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Commander, you are not expendable.”
Fox looked up immediately and studied Obi-wan carefully, like he was trying to identify a trap. “…That’s a dangerous thing to tell a clone, General.”
Obi-Wan’s expression softened slightly. “Perhaps.”A beat. “But it remains true.”Fox never knew what to do with kindness. That became increasingly obvious.
Meanwhile, Cody’s problem was the opposite. The Coruscant Guard adored him almost immediately because Cody organized their paperwork, improved operational efficiency, reduced accidental interdepartmental warfare, and somehow remained sane while doing it. The Guard viewed these feats with awe usually reserved for religion.
“Commander Cody filed six months of backlogged requisitions voluntarily.”
“Impossible.”
“He smiles at senators!”
“How?!”
Cody, meanwhile, slowly realized the Guard was effectively running half the Republic already. Mostly because senators were incompetent and someone had to keep civilization functioning.
One evening he found Guard troopers rerouting emergency response systems, intercepting corruption payouts, and threatening a lobbyist with tax audits simultaneously.
“…Is this legal.”
Shriek looked up. “No.”
“Then why are you doing it.”
Shriek blinked. “Well because it works, sir.”
Cody developed a migraine that would last for the next three years.
The funniest consequence of all this was Anakin Skywalker. Because Fox and Anakin got along alarmingly well.
Obi-Wan discovered this when he walked into the briefing room and found Anakin eating someone else’s ration pack, Fox modifying battle projections, and both of them discussing how best to psychologically destabilize a Separatist admiral.
“You cannot fake a surrender signal,” Obi-Wan said immediately.
Fox looked up. “Why not?!”
Anakin pointed excitedly. “See? That’s what I said!”
Obi-Wan stared at both of them in mounting horror.
The 212th became infamous shortly afterward. Not for recklessness, as surprising as that was, but for terrifying strategic creativity.
Enemy commanders started reporting impossible operational patterns: ambushes inside ambushes, false intelligence leaks, mysteriously sabotaged supply chains, entire garrisons surrendering after Fox somehow acquired personal blackmail material. Nobody could ever prove how. Fox never explained.
Meanwhile on Coruscant, Cody was accidentally becoming beloved by the Senate staff. Because unlike the Guard, Cody used proper forms, actually warned people before arrests, and explained regulations politely.
The Guard found this adorable.
“Commander Cody asked a senator to move his speeder instead of towing it.”
“Aw.”
“He called it ‘basic courtesy.’”
“That’s precious.”
Despite everything—different battalions, different Jedi, different warfronts—Fox and Cody still called each other constantly. Usually to complain.
“I was told I had to stop violating wartime laws.” Fox sounded extremely put out about this.
Cody snorted. “I had to stop a Guard trooper from blackmailing a senator with parking violations.”
Simultaneously: “…How is this my life.”
Fox leaned back in his chair. “You still think the Republic values us?”
Cody was quiet for a long moment. Then: “I think some people do.”
Fox surprised himself by immediately knowing who he meant. Kenobi. The Jedi. Maybe Skywalker too.
Fox stared out at the battlefield beyond the command tent. At the men of the 212th laughing around a fire despite the war. At Obi-Wan quietly helping a shiny repair their shell nearby.
“…Yeah,” Fox admitted quietly. “A few.”
Fox knew Chancellor Palpatine was a problem long before he knew why. Perhaps it was because he was a politician, and Fox barely tolerated politics as a concept. But Fox didn’t think so. What bothered Fox was simpler. It was the way the Chancellor looked at Anakin Skywalker the way Kaminoans looked at promising cadets that set him on edge.
Palpatine’s interest in Skywalker followed a pattern Fox deeply distrusted. The private meetings and personal praise were of the kind of attention designed to separate someone from their support systems. Fox had seen it before on Kamino. You isolated valuable assets before controlling them.
Unfortunately for Palpatine, Anakin Skywalker had recently acquired a best friend with profound authority problems, and enough combined paranoia between them to destabilize governments.
Fox was halfway through reorganizing supply routes when Anakin walked into the command room like a man haunted. Which, to be fair, described Anakin most days.
Fox glanced up. “You look rough.”
Anakin dropped into the chair opposite him. “That’s because Obi-Wan yelled at me for crashing a gunship.”
Fox nodded. “Reasonable.”
“I barely crashed it.”
“You’re missing the point.”
Anakin slumped dramatically. Then after a long silence: “…Palpatine says Obi-Wan’s holding me back.”
Fox stopped writing immediately and slowly looked up. “What?”
Anakin shrugged one shoulder. “He says the Council fears my power.”
Fox stared at him. Then very carefully asked, “How often does he say things like that?”
Anakin frowned. “…A lot?”
Fox leaned back slowly, every instinct he possessed suddenly screaming. “And he tells you this privately?”
“Usually.”
“He encourages distrust toward your support system.”
“…I guess?”
“He positions himself as uniquely understanding.”
Anakin blinked. “…Yeah?”
Fox put his datapad down with the grim focus of a man disarming a live mine. “That is deeply alarming.”
Anakin looked startled. “What?”
“That is grooming behavior.”
Anakin stared. Fox stared back.
“…I’m twenty-two.”
“And emotionally vulnerable.”Fox’s expression darkened. “You were enslaved as a child, separated from your mother, raised in a war, and handed unlimited violence before your brain finished developing.”A beat. “You are the ideal target for manipulation.”
Nobody had ever phrased it like that before. Not Obi-Wan. Not the Jedi. Not even Padmé.
Anakin looked suddenly, terrifyingly young. “…Oh.”
Fox rubbed a hand over his face. “How long has this been happening?”
“Since I was nine.”
“…Nine.”
“Yeah.”
“Nine.”
“I heard you the first time.”
Fox looked moments away from committing homicide preemptively.
“Fox?”
“The Chancellor has known you since childhood.”
“Yes?”
“And spends unusual amounts of private time with you.”
“...Yes?”
“And tells you authority figures who care about you are limiting your potential.”
Anakin shifted slightly. “When you say it like that-”
“There is no version of this that sounds normal.”
A very long silence followed. Then: “…Huh.”
Fox stared at him in disbelief. “Huh is your response?”
“I’m processing!”
“Process faster!”
It went rapidly downhill from there. Because once Fox started asking questions, Anakin answered them honestly. Which rapidly transformed concern into active horror.
“He knew about the Tusken Raiders?”
“Yes.”
“And what exactly did he say after you admitted slaughtering an entire village?”
Anakin hesitated. “…That anger is natural.”
Fox stared. “That’s it?”
“He said people in pain do terrible things.”
“That’s not wrong,” Fox admitted carefully. “But did he encourage accountability?”
Silence. Fox closed his eyes briefly. “This is so kriffed up.”
By the end of the conversation Fox looked ready to fight God personally.
“That man is horrifying.”
Anakin rubbed his face tiredly. “Okay but hear me out-”
“No.”
“He’s been good to me sometimes.”
“That’s how manipulation works!”
“I know that now!”
Fox stood abruptly and began pacing. Which Anakin had learned meant: Commander Fox is either solving a problem or planning a felony. Potentially both.
“We need evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
Fox stopped walking. “Worst-case scenario?”A pause. “He’s trying to politically isolate the Chosen One for personal control.” Another pause. “Actual worst-case scenario?” Fox looked at him flatly. “He’s the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for the whole time.”
Anakin barked a startled laugh. Fox didn’t laugh back. Slowly, Anakin’s smile faded.
“…You’re serious.”
Fox folded his arms. “Am I wrong?”
Anakin opened his mouth. Closed it. Then: “…I hate that I can’t say no.”
The investigation began with illegal surveillance. Naturally. Fox had spent enough time slicing to know where to look. Anakin had enough unrestricted access to accidentally break into anywhere. So together they became catastrophic.
“Are we allowed to be here?”
Fox sliced through another encrypted Senate archive. “No.”
“Okay good, just checking.”
They uncovered hidden financial channels, manipulated military contracts, Separatist communications, and enough emergency powers legislation to make Fox start swearing in Mando’a.
Anakin blinked as a particularly long string of swears escaped Fox. “…What does that mean?”
Fox didn’t look up from the datapad. “It means I hope the Senate explodes.”
Then they found the Kamino records about the chips.
Silence filled the room completely. Anakin stared at the files in horror. But Fox went frighteningly calm. The kind of calm that usually preceded violence.
“He knew.”Anakin looked sick.
“Seems that way.”
“Fox,” Anakin said slowly.
“Yes?”
“I think we might actually have to kill him.”
Fox considered this with concerning seriousness. “…Yeah probably.”
Shockingly, once they accepted assassination as a possibility, planning became much easier emotionally.
“Okay,” Anakin said, pacing. “So hypothetically—”
“We kill the Chancellor.”
“Right.”
“Which is treason.”
“Technically.”
Fox nodded. “Continue.”
They approached the situation with the energy of two deeply sleep-deprived soldiers trying to outsmart the galaxy. Which, unfortunately, they were very good at.
Fox handled logistics and Anakin handled ideas.
“Could I distract the Senate Guard?”
“Define distract.”
“Well I was thinking-“
“No explosions.”
Anakin looked offended. “You’re limiting my artistic freedom.”
The funniest part of the whole thing was the actual plan was horrifyingly solid.
Palpatine expected and planned for Jedi hesitation, political caution, and, most importantly, a huge moral debate.
He did not expect one paranoid clone commander, one emotionally unstable Jedi Knight, both of which already prepared to commit treason recreationally.
Fox studied the final tactical projection. “…This might actually work.”
Anakin grinned slowly. “We are either saving the galaxy or making history’s worst mistake.”
Fox grinned right back. “Probably both.”
Another funny thing about assassinating the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic was that the hardest part turned out to be scheduling. Not morality or security, or even the murder itself. Just timing.
Because, unfortunately, Palpatine was the Chancellor of the Republic. This meant he was constantly surrounded by guards, buried in Senate bureaucracy, and annoyingly difficult to isolate. Which meant Fox and Anakin spent three days planning what amounted to regicide around legislative meetings.
“This is ridiculous,” Anakin muttered.
Fox adjusted the holomap calmly. “Murder is logistics.”
“You say things that concern me deeply.”
“You’re helping assassinate the Chancellor.”
“Okay but somehow you still sound worse.”
Eventually they settled on late evening so there’d be minimal Senate traffic and one security authorization courtesy of Commander Cody. The irony of using Coruscant Guard clearance to assassinate the Chancellor was not lost on either of them.
23:41 Coruscant Standard Time
The Senate building at night felt wrong. It was simply too quiet, compared to the ever roaring traffic of Coruscant outside. It felt rather like the entire structure was holding its breath.
Fox walked half a step behind Anakin through the upper security corridor, orange armor muted under the low lighting. His bucket was tucked beneath one arm, and his hand rested casually near his blaster.
Anakin glanced sideways. “You nervous?”
Fox answered honestly. “Yes. There are many ways for this to go wrong. I hate variables.”
“You planned like seventeen contingencies.”
“Eighteen.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Two Senate Guards straightened immediately as they approached. “General Skywalker. Commander.” They were used to Anakin showing up at the Chancellor’s office at ungodly hours, but the Commander of the 212th was not someone they were used to seeing. Fox handed over the authorization from Cody without slowing. “I’m here as General Skywalker’s escort. I have been granted access by Commander Cody.”
The guards looked at it for moment. “Proceed.”
Fox resisted the urge to laugh. The Republic had handed him enough authority to walk directly into the Chancellor’s office carrying weapons, and have no one question him.
The doors slid open revealing Palpatine standing beside the massive Senate windows overlooking Coruscant with his hands folded behind his back. Fox felt the danger in the room instantly. Beside him Anakin went still.
“Anakin,” Palpatine said warmly. Then his eyes shifted. “Commander.”
Fox didn’t miss the subtle change in tone.
Interesting. Palpatine knew him.
“Chancellor,” Fox said evenly.
The doors sealed shut behind them and silence settled over the office.
Then Palpatine smiled slightly. “You’ve discovered me, haven’t you?”
Fox’s hand moved closer to his blaster. Anakin’s toward his lightsaber.
“You put chips in the clones,” Anakin said quietly.
Palpatine sighed softly. “Necessary precautions.”
Fox’s jaw tightened instantly. “Precautions,” Fox repeated flatly.
“For betrayal,” Palpatine clarified. His eyes lingered on Anakin. “The Jedi were always going to destroy the Republic.”
Anakin looked furious. “You manipulated me for years,” Anakin said.
Palpatine tilted his head slightly. “No,” he smiled, “I guided you.”
Fox spoke before Anakin could spiral emotionally. Smart decision probably. “You groomed a traumatized child soldier into dependency.”
Palpatine’s gaze snapped toward him sharply, the mask slipping slightly.
“How very protective of you, Commander.”
Fox’s expression didn’t change. “I know predators when I see them.”
Palpatine studied him carefully now. Actually carefully. Like Fox had become unexpectedly dangerous.
“You were not supposed to notice.” The words escaped before Palpatine could stop them. A mistake.
“You underestimate clones. You all do.”
Palpatine’s pleasant expression hardened. The office suddenly felt colder.
“You are property,” Palpatine said softly.
Anakin flinched. Fox didn’t. There it was. The truth. The Chancellor was just another man who thought clones existed to be used.
Fox laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what Kamino taught us too.” His hand dropped fully to his blaster.
Palpatine’s eyes flashed yellow. “Unfortunately for you,” the Sith Lord murmured, “I improved upon Kamino’s design. CC-1010, active Order 66.”
Anakin whipped to Fox in terror. Fox just stared at the Chancellor. “You think I discovered something in my brain and left it there?”
Palpatine had the decency to look embarrassed for a moment before the Force hit the room like an explosion. The windows shattered outward instantly as lightning shot across the office. Anakin ignited his lightsaber with a SNAP-HISS of blue light. Fox moved simultaneously.
Palpatine expected Jedi reactions. The Force and lightsabers. He did not expect Fox immediately emptying an entire blaster clip on him. Still, the Sith twisted sideways unnaturally fast. Most shots missed. One hit his shoulder. Another scorched across his ribs. Palpatine staggered, more shocked than injured.
Fox drew a second blaster, because it was faster than reloading.
“SEE?” Anakin yelled over the chaos. “THIS IS WHY I KEEP SAYING BLASTERS WORK.”
Lightning crashed toward them. Fox rolled beneath the desk as marble exploded overhead. Anakin deflected the next strike directly into the ceiling. Fire alarms erupted instantly.
Palpatine moved like he was possessed. Robes whipping violently and face twisting. The kindly Chancellor was gone entirely.
“There he is,” Fox muttered darkly.
The Sith lunged for Anakin, fast enough to blur. Anakin caught the red blade mid-strike. Blue and crimson collided with explosive force. The office shook. Fox fired continuously from the flank.
Palpatine snarled. “You fight like vermin!”
Fox shot him in the leg. Palpatine screamed. Anakin stared for half a second. “…That worked suspiciously well.”
“He has knees,” Fox snapped. “Use them.”
The duel became ugly immediately afterward. Anakin’s elegant Jedi combat was completely gone, a brutal and desperate attempt to take Palpatine down. Fox fought like a clone: practical, relentless, and entirely willing to cheat.
Palpatine would shove Anakin back with the Force and then Fox would shoot him from behind cover. Palpatine would redirect toward Fox and then Anakin would drive him backward again.
There was no time for evil speeches or dramatic pauses. Then Palpatine made his mistake. He tried to get inside Anakin’s head again.
“You would betray the man who cared for you?” The hesitation lasted less than a second. But Fox saw it. So did Palpatine. “You fear losing everyone,” the Sith whispered, reaching out a hand, “I can save-”
Fox shot him directly through the hand, as Anakin slashed up, slicing off his arm. Palpatine howled. Force lightning detonated wildly across the chamber.
“DON’T,” Fox barked at Anakin. “LET HIM TALK.”
Anakin sighed. “Right, yeah, good point.”
The next exchange ended it. Palpatine lunged toward Fox in fury. Wrong choice. Anakin intercepted instantly, locking blades while Fox drew the vibroknife hidden beneath his armor and buried it straight into Palpatine’s heart.
The Sith froze, eyes wide, lightning flickering weakly around trembling fingers. Fox leaned closer slightly, voice low and cold, “Goodbye Sidious. We won’t remember you.” Then he twisted the knife.
Palpatine collapsed.
The room went still except for distant alarms. Smoke curled off the scorched walls. Coruscant glowed endlessly below them.
Anakin stared at the body. Then at Fox. Then back at the body.
“…Holy shit.”
Fox sat down heavily against the ruined desk, adrenaline crashing all at once.
“…Did we just save the Republic?”
Anakin looked around the destroyed office. The dead Sith Lord. The burnt walls. The active fire suppression foam flooding the floor.
“…not legally.”
Then the alarms escalated from concerning to catastrophic. Red emergency lights flooded the Chancellor’s office. The massive Senate windows were gone entirely, leaving Coruscant’s endless night yawning open around them, wind screaming through the ruined chamber. And somewhere beyond the sealed doors heavy footsteps thundered down the corridor. The Senate Guard. Lots of them.
Anakin turned sharply toward the entrance.
“What do you think the probability of surviving Republic custody after assassinating the Supreme Chancellor is?” Fox asked curiously.
“…Not ideal,” Anakin said.
Fox looked at the body. Then the lightsaber burns. Then the knife. Then the several hundred blaster marks decorating the office.
“No,” Fox agreed. “This may negatively impact our careers.”
The footsteps got louder. Shouting echoed through the hall now.
“Chancellor!”
“Seal the corridor!”
“Get medics-!”
Anakin looked at Fox. Fox looked at the shattered window. Then back at Anakin. A moment of perfect understanding passed between them.
“Absolutely not,” Anakin said immediately.
Fox pointed toward the open skyline. “Absolutely yes.”
“That is the top level of the Senate building!”
“You can fly.”
“With the Force!”
“That still counts.”
The doors began to open, metal screeching against damaged locks. Fox made a decision instantly. Which, in hindsight, was probably a terrible one.
“Last one back to the Negotiator has to explain to General Kenobi!”
And then he threw himself backward out the window.
Anakin stared in horror. “That’s not fair!” Then he sprinted after him and jumped too.
Fox dropped like a stone. Wind tore past him violently, and traffic lights blurred below. The entire planet-city stretched endlessly beneath his boots.
Then, with practiced precision, Fox fired the grapple launcher built into his vambrace. The cable snapped taut around a passing transport rail. Fox swung violently sideways through the skylanes with the kind of maneuver that would have killed a normal person instantly.
Above him, Anakin was falling, while also simultaneously screaming his head off. “YOU COULD’VE WARNED ME ABOUT THE GRAPPLE!”
Fox kicked off a traffic beacon. “YOU HAVE SPACE MAGIC.”
“THAT DOESN’T HELP MY ANXIETY!”
Three Senate gunships burst from the upper tower behind them, searchlights ignited.
“Oh, come on,” Anakin yelled. “We literally just saved the galaxy!”
Fox swung beneath another transport lane. “That has never stopped bureaucrats before!”Blasterfire erupted overhead, thankfully not aimed to kill. It appeared that they were attempting to disable and detain.
Anakin twisted midair, caught a passing speeder with the Force, and landed on top of it hard enough to dent the roof. The terrified driver screamed.
“REPUBLIC BUSINESS,” Anakin shouted apologetically. Fox landed beside him a second later with significantly more grace. The speeder swerved violently through traffic. Gunships pursued immediately.
“You know,” Anakin said breathlessly, “we’re technically traitors to the Republic.”
Fox checked the charge on his blaster. “Technically.”
“We killed the Chancellor.”
“He was a Sith.”
“Still counts legally!”
The driver finally found his voice. “WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!” the driver shrieked.
Anakin pointed at himself indignantly. “I’m literally one of the most recognizable people in the Republic!”
Fox leaned forward and slammed the accelerator harder. “Eyes on the road.”
“I WAS UNTIL YOU LANDED ON MY SPEEDER!”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
Behind them, Senate Guard gunships tore through traffic in tight formation, searchlights sweeping across the skylanes. Coruscant traffic control was already screaming over public comms.
“Unidentified fugitives, reduce speed immediately!”
Fox looked over his shoulder. Then at the gunships. Then back ahead.
“…Nah.”
The speeder shot sideways between two cargo haulers with barely inches to spare. The driver made a noise Fox privately noted as medically concerning. Anakin twisted around in his seat to deflect incoming stun bolts. Blue light flashed wildly across the night skyline.
“You know Obi-Wan’s going to kill us,” Anakin said.
Fox grabbed the wheel one-handed to avoid a transport shuttle. “Incorrect.”
“What?”
“He’s going to kill you.”
“That’s not fair!”
“You encouraged me.”
“You stabbed a Sith Lord!”
“You cut his arm off first!”
The gunships gained ground.
“Commander Fox,” a voice barked over external comms, “power down immediately!” Fox recognized the voice instantly as Commander Thorn of the Coruscant Guard.
“Oh that’s embarrassing,” he muttered.
Anakin blinked. “What?”
“They know me.”
“You are a clone commander!”
“Yes, but they’re co-workers with my brother.”
Another volley of stunfire exploded around them. The driver screamed again. Honestly fair.
“Okay,” Anakin said, “new plan.”
Fox narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I dislike your plans.”
“We jump.”
“We are currently six hundred feet above the lower lanes.”
“You literally just jumped out a window!”
“That was different!”
Anakin pointed ahead. “There!”
Fox followed his gaze. A Republic maintenance platform connected to an upper transit rail. Beyond it was the Negotiator. It was only docked three sectors away.
The speeder slammed onto the maintenance platform hard enough to nearly flip. Fox and Anakin bailed out instantly. The poor driver peeled away at maximum speed without looking back. Gunships roared overhead and troopers began rappelling downward.
“STOP IN THE NAME OF THE SENATE!”
Fox kept running. “The Senate is dead to me!”
Anakin barked out startled laughter. “You can’t say that after killing the Chancellor!”
“I think I’ve earned it!”
They sprinted across the platform together, boots hammering metal, alarms blaring everywhere around them. Anakin used the Force to yank open a maintenance hatch. Fox dove through first without hesitation. The tunnel beyond was cramped, dark, and full of cables.
“You know,” Anakin said while crawling after him, “this is probably the worst thing we’ve ever done.”
Fox snorted. “You crashed a battleship into another battleship last month.”
“That was tactical!”
“You blew it up.”
“It was necessary!”
Behind them, voices echoed through the hatch.
“They went into maintenance!”
“Seal the lower sectors!”
Fox crawled faster. Anakin groaned behind him. “Why are you so fast in vents?!”
“Kamino training.”
“What kind of training involved this?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
Eventually the tunnel opened into a transit bridge overlooking the docking bays. And there, gleaming under Republic floodlights, sat the Negotiator. They were home, scott free. Well, excluding the fact of certain doom once Obi-Wan heard about this.
Fox slowed slightly. “…You should explain it.”
Anakin looked outraged. “ME?!”
“You’re the Jedi.”
“You’re the one who actually stabbed him!”
“You supported the stabbing.”
“That’s not a crime!”
Fox vaulted the railing. Anakin immediately followed. Both landed hard on the lower docking platform just as clone troopers turned toward the noise.
A dozen members of the 212th stared at them. Or, more accurately at, the soot stains on their damaged armor, the fact that General Skywalker looked mildly electrocuted, and Commander Fox had blood on his vibroknife.
Boil blinked slowly. “…Sir?”
Waxer pointed carefully. “…Is the Chancellor’s office on fire?”
Everyone looked upward. Far across the skyline smoke poured from the Senate building. There was a long silence.
Then Anakin said: “In our defense-”
Fox pointed at him instantly. “This was his idea.”
“YOU STABBED HIM!”
“YOU CUT OFF HIS ARM!”
“That was teamwork!”
The troopers stared at them. Then at each other. Then back.
Finally Waxer asked the important question. “…Did it work?”
Anakin and Fox looked at one another. Then simultaneously: “…oh, yeah.”
At that exact moment a familiar voice spoke behind them. Calm. Tired. And deeply, deeply suspicious. “…Anakin.”
Both men froze instantly. Obi-Wan Kenobi stood at the top of the docking ramp, with his arms folded, and expression unreadable. Which was far more frightening than anger.
Fox immediately took one strategic step backwards. Anakin betrayed him instantly. “HE SAID LAST ONE BACK HAD TO EXPLAIN IT.”
Fox looked genuinely offended. “You agreed to the race!”
“I DIDN’T THINK WE’D SURVIVE!”
Obi-Wan’s gaze shifted between them slowly. Then to the burning Senate tower visible through the docking bay. Then back again.
“…What,” Obi-Wan asked with terrifying calmness, “did you two do?”
Silence. Fox made a decision. Technically, a cowardly one, but an intelligent one. He pointed at Anakin. “He killed the Chancellor.”
“YOU HAD THE FINAL BLOW!”
Fox considered this. “…I mean, yeah.”
For one long, horrible moment the only sound in the docking bay was distant alarms from the Senate District echoing across Coruscant. Smoke still curled into the night sky. Emergency gunships screamed overhead. Somewhere in the city, the Republic was actively realizing its Chancellor had just been murdered. Which was, admittedly, a fairly significant political development.
Obi-Wan stared at Anakin, then at Fox, then at the blood still dripping from Fox’s vibroknife.
Very calmly, Obi-Wan said: “…You assassinated the Supreme Chancellor.”
Anakin raised a hand slightly. “In our defense-”
“No.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly. Fox recognized that expression. It was the exact face of a man mentally calculating whether becoming a hermit in the Outer Rim was still a viable career option.
“Oh, bright side,” Fox said suddenly. Obi-Wan opened one eye slowly. Fox smiled with deeply concerning optimism. “I’m pretty sure the war’s over now.”
The troopers of the 212th looked between them like they were watching a shuttle explode in slow motion.
Obi-Wan inhaled deeply. “And the downside?”
Fox finally sheathed the vibroknife. “We’re fugitives now. Please start up the ship.”
Another long silence. “…You’re serious?”
Fox frowned slightly. “The Senate Guards are currently trying to arrest us for treason and homicide. Yes, I am serious.”
“That sentence should upset you more than it does.”
Fox considered that. “…I think the adrenaline muted it.”
Anakin finally stepped forward. “Obi-Wan, listen-“
“No, you listen,” Obi-Wan interrupted, remarkably calm for a man moments from cardiac arrest. “You disappeared for four hours.”Fair. “You refused all communications.”Also fair. “And now the Chancellor is dead.”A pause. “The Chancellor you were absolutely not supposed to murder.”
Anakin grimaced. “When you say it like that-”
“How else should I say it, Anakin?!”
Fox stepped in helpfully. “To be fair, he was a Sith.”
Obi-Wan looked at him immediately. “And you stabbed him.”
“He was trying to kill us.”
“You stabbed the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic!”
Fox tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yes.”
The silence afterward was so profound that even the clones looked uncomfortable. Which was pretty impressive. Then suddenly a comm unit crackled somewhere nearby.
“—repeat, all military personnel are ordered to remain in position pending Senate investigation—”
Another voice cut in, “Jedi Temple security has initiated emergency lockdown until assassins are discovered.”
Fox’s comm pinged. He picked up.
“Yes?”
“Fox,” came the voice of Commander Cody, “we’re about to lock down the airspace. Please tell me you’re leaving now.”
“Uh. Yeah, Kote, heading out now.”
“Good. Estimated time, five minutes til shutdown.” Then he hung up.
Fox turned to the Jedi and the 212th. “We need to move now.”
The atmosphere changed instantly. There was no more arguing. Obi-Wan straightened slowly. “What exactly did you discover that led you to this course of action?”
Fox and Anakin exchanged a glance. One of those terrible silent conversations between people who had committed several crimes together already. Then Fox said carefully: “The Chancellor orchestrated the war.” Obi-Wan froze. “He controlled the Separatists and was manipulating Anakin.”Obi-wan’s face did something complicated.
Anakin added quietly: “And he was a Sith Lord.”
Obi-Wan stared at them. Long enough that Fox briefly wondered if he’d broken the General psychologically. Finally: “…You discovered all of this.”
“Yes.”
“And your solution was murder.”
Fox folded his arms. “It was a very good murder.”
Anakin nodded immediately. “It really was.”
“THAT IS NOT HELPING.”
A nearby trooper coughed suspiciously into his fist. Waxer was visibly trying not to laugh. Boil had simply accepted this as his life now.
Obi-Wan turned slowly toward the 212th. “Why are none of you reacting appropriately?!”
Waxer answered honestly: “Sir, Commander Fox once blackmailed a Separatist governor using tax fraud.”
Boil added: “General Skywalker crashed a Venator into another Venator. This honestly feels like a natural escalation.”
Obi-Wan suddenly looked very tired. Then the Negotiator’s alarm systems began blaring. Incoming transmissions, dozens of them, all about the Chancellor’s assassination.
Fox moved immediately toward the bridge ramp. “General, with respect, we need to leave orbit.”
Obi-Wan blinked. “You’re giving me orders now?” he asked surprised.
Fox paused. “…Would it help if I sounded more apologetic?”
“No.”
“Understood.”
Anakin followed close behind him. “You know,” he muttered quietly, “this is probably the point where our lives permanently derail.”
Fox snorted softly. “Skywalker, your life derailed years ago.”
“Fair.”
Behind them, Obi-Wan called out: “If I start this ship, I am officially complicit.”
Fox looked back over one shoulder. “Correct.”Another beat. Then, because apparently he’d completely lost emotional self-preservation tonight: “…Please, Obi-wan.”
The word had more of an effect than Fox intended. Obi-Wan went still. The clones nearby did too. Fox almost never used Obi-wan’s name.
Then Obi-Wan sighed the sigh of a man surrendering entirely to fate. “Of course you would only call me by my name immediately after committing regicide.”
Fox allowed himself the smallest hint of a grin. “It seemed strategically wise.”
The Negotiator’s engines roared to life. And somewhere far below them the Republic began to crack apart.