CT-1552 – Alderaan's Crest
The clone trooper wasn't sure what to expect when he'd jumped out into Coruscant space. Given the orders he'd been issued, he wouldn't have been surprised if the entire system was in conflict, much less the space surrounding Coruscant.
Yet when the dizzying lights of the stars—their brightness amplified by his throbbing headache—receded, he was treated not to a battle or incapacitated ships, but a strangely serene scenery. The triangular frigates of the Republic merely drifted around the orbital station over the capital. He saw no ships that had stopped in space to fight a battle in their depths.
Maker help me, Dreamer thought. They carried it out so well that the Jedi barely put up a fight. How?
"I thought things would be more chaotic than this," Corporal Looto said. "Have the Jedi truly fallen so easily?"
The young Rodian at Dreamer's side had taken up as a co-pilot, a corporal who'd only been a senate guard for a year, one who'd said he was a standout in his colony's garrison before he'd transferred to the esteemed ranks of the politicians' guardians.
"Perhaps they trusted their fellow brothers-in-arms more than they should have." Dreamer shook his head, disgusted that he'd been forced to say something so heretical. "Hours ago, I would've said that was nonsense."
"But you didn't turn."
"I've got an ache in my skull so bad I think a rampaging Rancor is pounding on the edges trying to escape. I don't know what went wrong with me, but I'd imagine I'm defective."
"Sad to consider your loyalty 'defective', Sergeant."
Dreamer said no more as he noted a small light flashing above their communications display. He knew where it would be from, and it was only with a warning glance to the co-pilot that he flipped a switch to allow transmission.
"This is Colonel Crag," said a clone from the other end. "We have you marked down as Senator Mon Mothma's ship. Confirm."
"I'm afraid that's not quite accurate anymore, sir," Dreamer told him. "My brothers and I executed our initiative to the letter. I'm afraid I'm going to have dock at the station to offload my brothers. I've also been given leave to bring this ship back to its hangar on Coruscant."
"Good man. Orders?"
The very idea that he was considered a 'good man' for the most base of betrayals turned Dreamer's stomach, but he let no indication of his simmering anger filter through to his voice. He had to keep calm if he wanted any chance of helping those on the surface.
"Not strict, sir, but the ship needs to go missing, as I understand it."
"Ah, yes. Very good. We'll send a crew to meet you. Bay Ex-Twelve."
"Yes sir."
As soon as he was finished, he turned back to speak to the co-pilot. Only then did he notice Senator Mon Mothma towering behind them. Her lips were draw in a thin line, as seemed to be standard for her.
"We're boarding?"
"Yes, Senator," Dreamer replied. "You have hatches to hide in, I assume?"
"We do, but if you want to find anything out from the surface about your friends, you won't have the clearance."
The sergeant already knew what she was suggesting, and he already didn't like it.
"That's...quite dangerous, Senator. If they notice the ship downloading information, we'll all be dead."
"We've asked many sacrifices of the Jedi Order over the years," she said, piercing eyes filling with sorrow. "Even before the Clone Wars, we've asked them to take the blows we couldn't ask of our soldiers or police. We've airily asked for them to protect us again and again, and they never asked anything in return. I think now, at the hour of their demise, I can at least do this."
"Understood, ma'am," he said. "I'll set you down in the cockpit. There's a hatch below the chair that you can—"
"I know where it is, Sergeant. You just keep them from discovering my crew."
"Yes ma'am," Dreamer told her, getting up and letting her take his seat. "You shouldn't need to speak anymore, but patch me through if they call."
"I will." He started to leave, but she wasn't finished. "Dreamer?"
"Senator?"
"I find myself quite glad that you're defective."
"Me too, ma'am."
Then he was away, activating his comlink to ensure he could be reached. He still disabled any voice transmission. He'd only get a beep if the senator needed to get in touch with him.
Dreamer hoped that the bodies on both sides would be treated with some respect. The clones were his brothers, and the senate guards had just been doing exactly what they were tasked with. There had been no ideological motivation, simply two people doing their grim duty.
When the ramp lowered, he was treated to a busy hangar. Far from the serene picture outside, several crews were being piled up by the clones. He was confused by their presence until he noted that they were sharing the bay with two Jedi starfighters.
"Sergeant." The voice dragged his gaze away from them and to a PFC waiting with a small team below him. "Permission to come aboard?"
"Of course, Private," he said, stepping aside. "They put up a fight in here and there weren't many of us. I was the only one to make it out."
"You must be pretty good, Sergeant." The PFC passed by, and Dreamer fell in behind him. "For everyone else to be dead, I mean."
"I was offered a position as an ARC Trooper a year ago," he said. "Denied the chance, however. Wanted to keep serving with the Jedi."
He was curious as to what reaction any show of favor toward the peacekeepers would elicit from his brothers, but the PFC simply continued on through the corridors.
They swept through the rooms one at a time, Dreamer's heart pounding in each chamber and his hand always remaining near to his weapon. Most stressful was the bridge, where Mon Mothma was supposed to be operating.
Yet when they stepped inside, nobody stood there. Only a pair of bodies—one clone and one senate guard—were in the cockpit.
"Looks like there wasn't much of a fight in here," the PFC said. "You'd think, considering how much fighting was out there—" He nodded to the hallway outside. "—that they'd put everything they have into this place."
"You clearly haven't seen much of the frontlines, Private." Dreamer noticed the monitor processing in front of him, and he slipped around to sit on the dashboard. "They weren't expecting us to get past the guys out there."
"Suppose that's true," he muttered. He turned to his small crew. "That's the last of them, come on."
The crew started to leave, but the PFC lingered, leaning up against the bulkhead.
The worst curse I could ask for: A talkative PFC when I'm trying to get out of here.
"You wonder what'll happen to us when this whole Jedi thing is over?"
"Still got the war ahead, Private."
"Not what I hear. Rumors are that General Grievous was killed by General Kenobi. Before the orders, I mean."
"Then it looks like a peacetime garrison. That's gonna be no fun."
"Seems to be all I've already done. At least you've got some notches in your belt, you'll probably get..." He trailed off, and Dreamer looked around. "What's that?"
He heard it, then. A twitch below them, little more than a rustle. The PFC looked down, searching.
Dreamer moved fast. He grabbed the back of the clone's helmet and tore it off. The young clone's eyes widened, mouth opening wide as he straightened up. Dreamer gave him no time to make a sound or fight back, pinning him to the wall by his mouth. Dreamer pulled one of his blasters and shoved it into the PFC's midsection.
"Sorry, Private," he said. "Just doing my job."
Another shot, and another of Dreamer's brothers were dead at his hands. Once the clone slumped to the ground, Dreamer glared down at the seams of the hatch.
"Apologies," Mon Mothma said, climbing from the hatch. "I had to brace down there, something slipped from under my foot."
"What's one more?" Dreamer asked.
"Don't pretend you aren't affected by it, Sergeant." She brought her comlink up to her mouth as she sat at the edge of the opening. "Are they out?"
"The crew is, ma'am, I can't see the clone."
"Close up. Close up now."
"Yes ma'am."
"Is our download complete?" Dreamer asked.
"Let me check." Mon Mothma raised herself up and checked the screen, then nodded. "We're good. Get us out of here, I'll check the data over." Her mouth went to her comlink. "Corporal Looto, get up here quick."
Dreamer took back to his seat, and gave a final report to the colonel in charge.
"Thank you for the assistance, sir." Dreamer said. "I'll be heading planetside now."
"Understood, Sergeant."
"We don't have much time before they realize their team leader is missing. Let's go, Sergeant."
Dreamer was eager to leave the hangar, and it took everything he had to avoid shooting out of the bay at top speed. Instead he guided the corvette slowly from the hangar and through the atmosphere of Coruscant.
He was soon joined by his co-pilot, who gave him a nod before seating himself.
"I've got the location of a smuggler ship carrying a Jedi," the senator said from behind him. "It might be your friends, Sergeant. They're being chased. To these coordinates, quickly."
The direction appeared on the monitor, and Dreamer guided them down into the brightly-lit city below, hoping against hope that Neria and Kurik had managed to survive the betrayal at the Jedi Temple.
It felt like they flew for hours before someone spotted their smuggler vessel.
"There!" Corporal Looto shouted.
Dreamer found them quickly. The familiar freighter swerved in between the spires and towers of the city, trying to flee a trio of ARC-170 starfighters, couldn't manage to outrun the nimble dual-winged fighters. A corvette sat above them, not quite as fast as the freighter but able to keep up by virtue of being in the sky.
They'd penned the ship in, and if Dreamer didn't get down there quickly, there was a good chance that they'd manage to eventually encircle it. From there, even the best pilot in the galaxy
He heard the senator's hand clutch tightly at the seat as Dreamer engaged the weapons.
A series of laser cannons along the bottom of the corvette opened up, flashing red and raining lasers down. Dreamer didn't aim for the corvette; it would take too long to destroy the ship of equal class, and that length of time would allow the fighters to box Kurik in.
Instead, he aimed in on the fighters. It was only the accuracy of the corvette that allowed them to pick of three fighters on the right side without slicing through the buildings around them. Had he been piloting a starfighter himself, he could've counted on at least a dozen onlookers perishing as a result of the attempted rescue.
To his credit, Kurik took the advantage immediately, veering to the right and immediately aiming up at the atmosphere.
Dreamer cut in front of the enemy corvette, forcing it to slow to avoid hitting them. That gave Kurik the clearance he needed, especially once the fighters rose from the streets and made themselves easy targets for the corvette.
From there, it was easy for them to outpace the enemy corvette, and it didn't seem particularly interested in following a ship of the same class and a modified freighter.
Besides, given how much they've been willing to do to kill the Jedi, I bet someone's waiting above.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice over their communication console.
"What—Who's there?"
It was Kurik, the kid sounding more stressed than Dreamer had ever heard him. He was glad to hear the voice, happy to see that the teenage pilot had managed to survive the ruthless backstabbing by Dreamer's brothers.
Before he could answer, a voice he was far more intent on hearing broke in.
"Dreamer, you're here!"
"I am, Knight Halai." A smile lifted Dreamer's lips. "I'm relieved to hear you're well. Please tell me it's more than just you in there."
"We've got the former Sith prisoners here, and I have a small class of children with me. Nine of us, total. You're...You're okay?"
"Whatever took my brothers, it didn't quite take me. Not for a lack of effort, though."
And indeed, the pain was starting to become stifling. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to push it aside.
"Thank the Maker," she muttered. "Well, I hope you're ready for more, because Kurik's telling me that our sensors are finding a small flotilla up there."
"I must make a call," Senator Mon Mothma said. "Get them through, Sergeant."
"Gladly, Senator."
