Chapter Text
“Fox, you're not going to like this.”
Just what Fox wanted to hear after being crammed in his office for nearly 12 hours, pouring over requisition forms, complaints from stuck up politicians, and the kriffing Supreme Chancellor’s paperwork because why would he do it himself?
“Thire,” Fox drawled slowly, pure exhaustion seeping into his voice, “someone better be dead or dying.”
Thire shifted uncomfortably–quite unusual for him nowadays. After the haran that was dealing with senators, he had mastered the art of being unshakable and had long grown out of the anxious juvenile commander he had once been. “Not yet…Sir, we have reports of an influx of GAR troopers on Coruscant, specifically on this level near the base and Senate. A variety of battalions too, not just one.”
Fox frowned, “on Coruscant? No major battalions are slated for shore leave right now. The closest one is the 104th in two weeks.”
He set aside the current datapad in his hands—some hissy fit a Senator was throwing over a trooper refusing to take off their helmet, despite the fact that it was due to the senators in the first place that troopers could not take off their buckets, let alone in the Senate Rotunda—and pulled up the GAR shore leave schedule on his computer.
As he expected, while a few smaller divisions were temporarily on Coruscant as they always were, no battalions were supposed to be stationed on triple zero currently. Hell, there wasn't even an alert that any had landed on Coruscant.
Due to the GAR generals being the Jedi, there were many times a battalion had to be recalled to Coruscant at the last minute for a Jedi osik emergency. But even then, the Corries were notified of their presence.
They had to be, when they were in charge of security for the entire kriffing planet.
Fox kept very vigilant tabs on who was on Coruscant when. Fox would say it's because the security of the planet is his top priority.
His commanders would probably say it was because Fox was a paranoid shabuir who was always avoiding his batchmates. As far as Fox concerned, they were all hypocrites who were paranoid too.
Either way, the fact of the matter is that there should be no GAR troopers on Coruscant let alone by the Guard’s base.
Osik, Fox did not have enough caf for this.
As if reading his mind, Thire lunged forward for Fox’s cup. Unfortunately for his vod’ika, Fox was much faster and much more desperate for the liquid cradled in the cup.
“Ori’vod, that is at least your sixth cup! And I know for a fact you haven't slept for several days, don't even try. None of the other commanders have seen you in the command barracks for days.”
“I’ve slept on my couch,” Fox lied. “Besides, I’m gonna need the caf to deal with this osik.”
Fox brought the cup to his lips with one hand while he typed away with his other hand. The first thing he did after reviewing the shore leave schedule was check the current docking report database, and sure enough–
“What the kriff!? ” Fox spit out his drink, spewing the lukewarm liquid over the many datapads covering his desk.
He blinked, once, twice, as if that would change the information the screen displayed.
“Fox?” Thire called out worriedly, moving around the desk to look at what had startled his commander so bad.
“Oh that's..” his vod’ika’s eyes grew wide. “That's not good at all.”
Not one, not two, but seven major battalions were currently stationed on Coruscant. Seven battalions that the Coruscant guard had not been informed about at all. To make matters worse, Cody’s, Bly’s, Wolffe’s, Pond’s and Rex’s battalions, his entire batch, were all a part of the list, as well as several others.
There had been maybe two times the entirety of his batch had been on Coruscant at once since deployment.
Why didn't they know about this? Why didn't they tell him?
With the vigor of a spice addict, Fox flew over the GAR report database. Why the hell were they all here? What was happening?
Has there been an internal conflict with the Jedi? Was there another Zillo beast situation? Maker, Fox could not handle another Zillo beast situation.
Fox couldn't find anything. No conflicts had been reported with the Jedi, nor the GAR or the Senate. And certainly nothing that demanded seven battalions on Coruscant with no warning.
Fox swallowed, anxiety tightening in his gut. Thire had the exact same expression on his face. His stationing on Coruscant had not been kind to him. The gaunter cheeks, paler skin, and heavy bags that haunted the entirety of the Guard had finally caught up to Thire. Gone was the animated shiny the commander had once been, replaced with someone who despite being the vod’ika of the commanders, looked far older than his years.
They all did.
Just last week, Thire had passed out on duty while guarding a lavish banquet. Thankfully, he had slumped backward into the wall, rather than forward onto the floor. His men had been able to carefully shuffle him off to the med bay without detection.
He had passed out from hunger. While guarding a banquet.
Fox hated it, hated that he couldn't do more for any of his vode. No matter how many back alley dealings he made, how many politicians he swayed through blackmail or favors, or how many requisition forms for more rations and medical supplies he sent to the chancellor, it was never enough. It was just budget cut after budget cut, and as the troopers stationed on the homefront, surely you need it the least, right commander?
No matter how many times Fox borderline begged the chancellor.
As the home front, the Corries also got the youngest troopers pushed out. As the demand for more and more clones grew, the eldest had to be sent to the front lines while the youngest were sent to the Guard. So that the front lines could have the more "experienced" and “capable” troopers.
They had received vode as young as seven. Vode that needed much more calories for their growth cycles than the current daily rations supplied. So, the commanders as well as the oldest of the Guard had taken to skipping meals so the youngest could eat more.
Next to him, Thire’s face hardened and he squared his shoulders.
“I'm going to go out and investigate. We need to know what's going on. Stone will cover for me as I go talk to the GAR.”
“No,” Fox immediately protested, “you're not going alone. You know protocol. There has to be someone else with you, especially with the GAR.”
“You need to stay here and handle this! I’ll grab one or two of my men to bring along, it'll be fine.”
The GAR relations hadn't always been this bad. Things had been remarkably normal between the two groups for a staggering amount of the war. Then, as the war dragged on and got worse, so did the relationship between the Corries and the Fronties. The GAR, while still caring for their fellow vode, began to resent what they viewed as the safe assignment while the GAR troopers died on the front lines.
Fox couldn’t blame them, really. None of the Guard did. But still, the divide grew as more drunken disorderly arrests turned to brawls, and more social visits turned to official ones only.
It wasn’t just the war’s fault either. As the depth of their situation sunk into the Coruscant Guard, they realized they had to keep the GAR away for their own safety. They couldn’t risk their fellow vode, not to a sith.
Fox slowly stopped answering his batchmates texts, their holocalls and requests to see him during their shore leaves. While his excuses about being busy were completely true, it was more than just paperwork keeping Fox away from them.
Not only was Palpatine monitoring everything Fox said to them, but the closer they were, the more leverage Palpatine had over Fox. With the wave of his hand, he could send one of his batchmates battalion’s to die under the excuse of “faulty intel.”
They had no way of telling the GAR what was wrong. At first, they wondered if it was just pride. Then maybe if it was fear. It wasn't until Thorn had held Thire’s hair back as he choked and sobbed hard enough to vomit black tar on the floor that they realized it wasn't that they wouldn't, it was that they couldn't.
And so, Fox stopped answering texts. He began to only see Cody, Wolffe, Bly, Ponds, and Rex when they had to pick up their men from the drunk tank or had to visit about official business. The last time he had seen Rex, any of his batchmates–really, in person had been the Tano incident. And that sure as kark hadn’t helped relations.
Shiny Corrie’s had started to ghost their GAR batchmates within weeks of their deployment on Coruscant.
He knew how the GAR viewed the Guard. They interpreted their immediate ghosting as a stuck up belief that they were now superior to the GAR, that they had no need for their other vode anymore.
Fox just wishes there was something they could do to show that that wasn’t true.
“Two of your men atleast,” Fox decided.
“I’ll report to you as soon as I know what's going on,” Thire nodded, then left for outside.
Fox sighed slumping back into his chair. He pulled out his comm and began to scroll through the dozens of unread messages. He hadn’t seen anything recently about any of his ori’vode coming to Coruscant. Usually when an event like that occurred, they’d go to any length to have a meet-up. Even Fox couldn't escape those instances, his batchmates going so far as to physically drag him out of his office as his traitorous Guard vode cheered them on.
There was nothing. In fact, there were no direct messages to him in the past month. He tried not to let that hurt, after all, it was him who wasn't replying, but the realization that his batchmates might have truly finally given up on him was both a bittersweet and depressing one. On one hand, it meant they’d be safer, but on the other, it meant Fox had finally lost one of the only good things he had left.
Fox exited his direct messages and opened his batch group chat. Strangely, there were no messages in that one from the past two weeks. While Fox rarely, if ever, replied to it anymore, it was still usually extremely active between his brothers. Surely, if they were all on Coruscant, they’d be scrambling talking about whatever was going on?
He hesitated, thumb resting over the keypad.
He could just.. ask them.
Sure, he hadn't sent a text to the chat in months, but surely they'd respond.
Fox frowned, before typing up a basic text asking what was going on. Just before he could send it, there was a knock at his door.
Thire, Fox first thought, closing his comm with the unsent message. Maybe his investigation had gone much quicker than they anticipated. Or Stone, checking in on what was happening.
In the end, it wasn't either of them. It wasn't even a Corrie at all.
First, two 212th troopers marched into his room, brandishing blasters at their sides, before karking Cody entered his office.
“Commander Cody!” Fox spluttered, hurriedly reaching for his bucket that he had stupidly taken off a few hours ago, “What are you doing here?”
His attempt to grab for his bucket, his shield, his barrier, his–all Guard must keep their helmet on when interacting with non-Guard personnel, was foiled when his Ori’vod strode forward and snatched it before Fox could.
Cody yanked the helmet back, frowning at the state of the room, clearly taking in the mess of datapads, stacked empty coffee cups, and finally Fox’s disheveled appearance in front of him, arm still sluggishly reached out from when he tried to grab his bucket.
Fox knew he wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes. The Coruscant Guard posting was hard on any vod unlucky enough to be stationed there, but as the Marshall Commander it was especially harsh on Fox and he knew he looked it. Still, the scrutiny Cody was surveying him with was not deserved.
Cody made no moves to put the helmet down or give it back. “I’m going to hold onto this,” Cody hummed, clipping Fox’s helmet to his belt.
Fox huffed and slumped back into his chair, “Cody, what’s going on? Why have so many battalions been recalled to Coruscant with no alerts? why have—” he gestured towards the other two troopers “—you brought these troopers here?”
Fox ran off of information. Even before Coruscant, he was a clever and conniving bastard who always held all the cards. He didn’t like going into any situation blind, and right now, he’d practically been blindfolded.
Even more unsettling, his di’kut older brother who was always more brawn than brains did seem to know what was going on.
“There’s been an internal rearrangement in command,” Cody sighed. “A large number of the battalions have been recalled to Coruscant to carry it out.”
“A rearrangement in command?” in the GAR? Fox hadn’t heard of any incidents with the army, but considering he hadn’t heard anything about this, that didn’t mean much. Had the republic decided to relieve the Jedi from being generals? Fox sincerely doubted it. Were the GAR commanders being rearranged to outrank the less qualified natborn officers? Somehow, he doubted that even more. Was the vode being moved down then?
Oblivious to Fox’s internal monologue, his brother nodded, “Yeah, the many battalions are on Coruscant to make the process as smooth as possible. It’s being shifted around due to some new concerns that have been aired.”
Fox shifted around in his deck, shuffling a few data pads out of the way before— aha, pulling out the one he was looking for.
“How many Guard personnel are going to be required for this? I'll try and do what I can to get you as many as you need but we’re pulled quite tight right now with several off-planet escorts and other missions.” He pushed the Guard personnel request form over to Cody, and picked up his stylus to twirl in his hands.
Cody made no moves to grab it, he didn’t even look down to glance at it.
Fox’s eyes flickered over to the two troopers on either side of Cody, before returning back to his brother. A silent question.
“Cody?” Fox frowned,
Suddenly, a static noise sliced through the air. From Cody’s waist, Thire’s voice patched itself through. From Fox’s internal helmet comms.
“--Fox?...Fox- on’t let any…n.on Guard in–... GAR.. osik, let go–” static interrupted nearly every time Thire spoke, making his voice mostly inaudible. It almost sounded like Thire was fighting someone, panic leaking into every one of his words.
Fox stood, making an aborted gesture towards his helmet in a silent give it.
Cody wordlessly moved a hand down to Fox’s helmet, and instead of passing the helmet to Fox, he muted the comm, effectively cutting off both Thire and the loud noise.
Behind him, both of the troopers shifted their stances.
“Fox, I'm gonna need you to come with us.” Cody said.
“What?” Fox’s brow furrowed, and he lowered his outstretched hand.
“The rearrangement isn’t within the Grand Army of the Republic. The Guard is being restructured. While this process is being undergone, you are required to stay in the custody of a GAR commander or higher.”
what.
Fox took a step back from his desk, “You're joking, right?” Cody certainly didn’t look like he was joking. “On whose orders?”
“Mine.”
“You don’t outrank me Cody,” Fox growled, “we're the same station. I don't take orders from you.”
For the first time since he entered the room, Cody’s unreadable blank expression finally shifted. It almost looked smug. “Now you do.”
“What do you mean?” Fox pressed, tempted to take another step back but unwilling to back down. Backing up would show fear, submission.
Fox was in this blind, and he was starting to think Cody was the one who had put on the blindfold.
“You're demoting me?”
“Not demoted.” Cody shook his head, “You're still the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard, but any GAR trooper outranks you. The entirety of the Coruscant Guard now takes orders from any Grand Army of the Republic soldier, even a shiny.”
Fox paled drastically, to kark with not showing submission, and took multiple rapid steps back until he hit the wall.
Cody couldn't, why would– “you can't do that,” He breathed.
This would screw everything. They had worked so hard to keep the GAR in the dark about the Secret Corps, about the not-actually decommissioned troopers and the supply issues and illegal operations the Guard was running. If a single one of those things was discovered, Fox would be slated for decommissioning immediately for treason.
“Actually, I can,” Cody hummed, looking every bit like his Jedi General, serene and calm. “It was first put to a GAR-wide commander vote, then the Generals approved it. High generals that far outrank you. It's been decided that things on Coruscant are not being handled appropriately, and that the Grand Army’s intervention is needed.”
That was-
“I don’t answer to the generals, I answer to the Supreme Chancellor.” Fox argued.
At the mention of Palpatine, a barely noticeable shadow flitted across Cody’s face. “That doesn’t matter, technically, the Coruscant Guard is still a battalion under the larger Grand Army of The Republic. As such, you are still subjugate to the command structure of the army.”
Fox sighed, “How did you find out?” What did you find out?
Cody shifted, a darker look visibly crossing his face. “Fox, how long have you been without the required stock of rations?”
Since this sith-damn war started. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Cody pursed his lips, “and the fatality rates of the Guard?”
Kark.
“Those files were classified, you don't have the authority to access them.”
Only a Guard commander, a high general, or the Supreme Chancellor could access those files. Fox had made sure of that.
Cody smiled, though it didn't hold a drop of humor or joy. “Funny, that didn't matter much to my slicer.”
Ok, new angle.
“Yes, the Guard has high fatality rates, that’s the job Kote” Fox drawled, relaxing his stance and spinning the stylus in his hand, plans already beginning to draft in his mind.
The GAR knew about their supply issues and their fatality rates, he could work with that. In truth, he was surprised that was all it took to motivate the GAR into action.
Their supply and fatality issues were the least of the Guard’s difficulties.
“Not on Coruscant, it shouldn’t be. The Guard may see more action then most GAR troopers assume, but you are still a static battalion. You’re not seeing clankers in everyday combat or carrying out gruelling campaigns, there’s no logical reason for your number to be on par with some of the highest of the GAR’s.” Cody rebuked, eyes hardening and hands tightening.
The troopers behind him didn’t fare much better. If Fox was anyone else, it would have gone unnoticed, but because he was Fox, he noted how their stances tightened just so and they glanced at each other just a bit.
Apparently, this was a shared frustration with the entirety of the GAR, not just the commanders.
Fox could work with this, in fact, maybe he could even turn this in his favour. If the GAR thought the Guard was just suffering from supply cuts and a more dangerous posting then they originally assumed, maybe Fox could convince Cody and the others to lend them some more medical supplies and rations. That would allow them to cut down on some of their more illegal operations while under the GAR’s apparent scrutiny.
Cody clucked his tongue, cutting through Fox’s mental scheming, and his face changed to his knowing ori’vod—I know that your scheming, Fox—expression.
“I’ll repeat myself: you are to submit to GAR custody for questioning and supervision.” His ori’vod ordered.
Hold on.
“What– You’re arresting me?” Fox stuttered, leaning as far back into the wall as he could go.
“Not yet, but I will if you do not cooperate.” The order went unsaid, but Fox still heard it loud and clear. Stand down, or I’ll make you stand down.
The troopers behind Cody shifted again, and suddenly it became quite clear what they were there for. The blasters, not currently trained on Fox, but certainly not holstered either.
Well, Fox was never one for following orders in the first place.
Fox shuffled once more, closer to the window this time. Cody’s eyes tracked the movement, expression shifting to his warning look that both Fox and Rex were on the receiving end of many times on Kamino. His “I know what you're thinking, don’t do it” look.
“I’m sorry Cody, I can’t do that.”
If the GAR was forcefully investigating the Guard, Fox couldn’t stay here. It was one thing for the Corries to be investigated, it was another for them all to be removed from ranks and put into custody.
He didn’t know why the GAR was behaving as it was. This response was much too disproportionate to the issues they were referencing. In what galaxy did supply cuts and high fatalities translate to forceful removal of command?! With seven battalions of response no less.
Seven battalions forcefully taking control of the Guard, kark. Cody had said they were here “to make the transition of command go smoother.”
At the end of the day, it was either his batch mates or his Guard. And Fox knew what his choice would be. His men always came first, even against his own batch. The Guard could not afford Fox being removed from his command. Surrendering his position meant Thorn or, kriff, Thire, would have to take his place and he would not, could not, let them take the hits that he took for the Corries.
There was a reason there were certain senators only Fox was allowed to meet with, or that only Fox may report to Palpatine.
Fox’s hands shifted down just slightly towards his own blasters.
“Fox..” Cody warned.
Moving much quicker than a Guard commander should be able to in GAR’s eyes, Fox grabbed his blaster. The troopers raised their own just as quickly, but Fox didn’t aim his on them or Cody, instead, he whirled around and blasted the window behind him.
The loud bang and subsequent shatter of glass temporarily stunned the 212th troopers and their Commander, arms coming up to shield their faces. They probably expected Fox to do the same.
A foolish assumption on their part, Fox had lost any self preservation the second he was stationed on Coruscant.
Their blunder was all the time Fox needed to vault through the now smashed window and onto the nearest rooftop. Fox hit the ground running, tucking himself into a roll to absorb the impact and sprinting to the edge of the platform.
“Fox!” Cody barked behind him. Fox looked up from the edge he was on just long enough to gaze at his ori’vod, who was leaning out the window to stare at Fox.
Fox shared one last long look with him, toeing the edge of the building. Cody’s posture conveyed nothing outwardly, but he was Kote. He was Fox’s ori’vod and Fox could read him better than anyone. In his eyes he saw frustration, anger, cold calculation, and most oddly of all, fear.
Fox shifted onto the balls of his feet, and before Cody could blink, he jumped over the ledge. Gone, lost to the endless maze that was Coruscant.
—
Both Marcher and Razzle immediately moved to jump out the window and pursue Fox, but Cody held out an arm, stopping them both in their tracks.
“No,” Cody intoned sourly, “we won’t get him in a foot chase—not like this.”
Everyone in the GAR knew that the Corrie’s were beyond just the “troopers stationed on Coruscant”. They were called the “Corrie’s” for a reason. They were an integral part of Coruscant just as much as Coruscant was a part of them. Nobody knew the convoluted city levels better than the Guard.
They were practically one with the endless levels. The few precious seconds Fox had bought himself with his window shattering stunt were more than enough for him to melt into the labyrinth of Coruscant.
Fox was much too fast and smart for these troopers, and the Guard specialized in urban warfare. For all the GAR condescended the Guards skills, there was no argument that the Corrie’s had them outmatched in every sense of the word when it came to urban environments.
Marcher and Razzle didn’t stand a chance against Fox.
Cody turned back to his two troopers, walking briskly out of his vod’ika’s shoebox of an office.
“Someone get me Commander Wolffe.”