Fox did not want a Jedi. He'd never wanted a Jedi. And now, he was getting a Jedi.
"Cody," Fox was too annoyed to do more than growl out his brother's name. He stopped as he took in Cody's surroundings and appearance. "You're injured."
Cody squinted at him as if he was having difficulties focusing. "Yes... big explosion..." He gave a self-deprecating scowl. "Didn't run fast enough."
"Are you okay?" Fox's anger dissipated out of concern for Cody.
Cody lifted his head and peered down at himself. "I've looked better." He tilted his head to the side as if considering that statement. "Although, lately, I've looked worse. Why are you calling? You don't call me unless you need something."
That much was true. There were reasons Fox kept himself distant from his brothers, although the reminder still hurt. He tamped his emotions down and focused on business. "General Windu assigned me a Jedi. Someone named Quinlan Vos…. he said the idea came from you."
"Me?" Cody gave Fox an innocent look that made him look 13 instead of 26.
"Yes, you told General Windu I needed a Jedi."
His words were met with a prolonged silence from Cody.
"Cody?" Fox prompted.
"Eh... I'm thinking..." Cody's tone made it clear he had no memory of the conversation.
His old CMO came into view, tucking what looked like an ice pack behind Cody's head. Cody hummed with contentment and seemed to forget all about Fox. Silver tugged the datapad from his grasp and focused on Fox. "Commander Fox, hello. We're going to have to cut this conversation short. Commander Cody is severely concussed, and he's already been on the datapad too long."
"No," Cody protested. He turned a pleading look on Silver. " A few more minutes?"
"You've already been staring at that screen too long, Commander. No more." Silver's finger hovered over the disconnect button.
"Wait!" shouted Fox. "He said there was an explosion?" Fox asked quickly, desperate to get information from someone more coherent than Cody.
"The Separatists rigged the data center to explode. Commander Cody was caught in the blast," Silver considered his words, "with General Windu. They spent a lot of time together." The medic looked up sharply as an alarm went off elsewhere in the medical facility. "I have to go."
The screen went dark.
#
Fox stared at his datapad. He lingered momentarily, lost in thought about his brother's condition. Setting the datapad aside, he couldn't help but brood over Quinlan Vos's recent assignment. Jedi was always a complex issue in his line of duty, and this new development weighed heavily on him. He'd shared some things with Cody that were never meant to be repeated.
Quinlan Vos.
Fox wracked his brain for information on this particular Jedi and came up blank. Jedi were not in his area of responsibility. He had his hands full with the senators. What would possess Cody to tell General Windu he needed a Jedi?
What else had he said?
He buried his face in his hands and groaned, worried about what Cody might have revealed in his concussed state.
Fox's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a noise, a subtle disturbance that put him on edge. From the corner of his eye, he caught a dark shadow against his wall. Fox leaped to his feet, blaster in hand, kicking over his chair hastily to get up.
"Problem?" Fox was startled at the unexpected voice. The shadow materialized in a cloaked figure that stepped forward from the wall and raised the chair with a hand wave.
The sight of someone using unnatural powers immediately triggered Fox. "Who are you, and how did you get into my office?" He jammed his blaster harshly into the stranger's chest. "Your answer better be good." He allowed his blaster to wind up, the sound loud in the small office.
"Are you always this high-strung?" The cloaked figure peered down at the blaster, several strands of low dark hair escaping from the confines of his hood. His chest was broad, even broader than a clone's chest. His voice was deep but contained a natural hint of amusement as if he didn't take everything too seriously. He was the antithesis of Fox.
The broad-chested stranger leaned back against the wall, still wholly unconcerned about the blaster jammed into his chest. "Is your… eh… fellow… soldier friend alright?" The intruder's voice continued to do things to Fox it had no right to do.
"What?" Fox was finding it difficult to think, utterly unlike him.
The stranger gestured to the screen, unbothered by the blaster poking into his chest.
"Are you talking about Cody?" Fox stared at the stranger, completely baffled. Why would someone break into his office to eavesdrop on a call between him and one of his brothers? Fox didn't deal with anything strategic out on the battlefield. Cody had
The stranger looked taken aback. "That was Cody? Oh… I didn't recognize him."
Fox's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How did you know Cody?"
"Obi-Wan is a close friend of mine. We grew up together. He speaks very highly of his Commander." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "He buys him chocolate, you know."
"What?" Fox couldn't even begin to fathom Cody's Jedi buying him chocolate and for what reason. "Who are you?"
The intruder threw back his cloak, still unbothered by the blaster, and Fox's brain stuttered to a halt as he took in his features. He was... handsome. Annoyingly so.
Fox pushed his blaster further into the intruder's chest. "You have five seconds to tell me who you are before-"
Thorn burst into his office without knocking.
"The new General is-" He stopped and stared, looking at Fox and the dark-cloaked stranger.
"Fox, why are you pointing a blaster at General Vos?"
Fox gasped. "You're our new General?"
"Yes and no." He glanced down at the blaster still pressed into his chest. "You want to put that away?"
Thorn grabbed Fox's hand and started moving it for him. The movement helped Fox's brain unfreeze, and he slapped Thorn's hand away and finished holstering his blaster on his own. Together, he and Stone stared at their new General as he made himself at home in Fox's office.
The 'General' crossed the room and sat in Fox's chair. He did some Force thing to shuffle some datapads around, making room to prop his boots on the desk.
"Yes, I'm assigned here for the foreseeable future, but no, I am not answering to General Vos. I'm Quinlan Vos. Or, you can call me Quin. Or, Vos. Or, Quinlan, if you're mad at me."
"But, you're a Jedi Master– that automatically makes you a General," Thorn pointed out.
Vos shook his head firmly, dark dreadlocks flying with the movement. "I told Mace if I was going to do this thing, I was not accepting a commission."
Fox and Thorn exchanged a bewildered look. "This thing?" prompted Fox.
"Take over the Guard," prompted Vos. He looked around. "Rather drab in here, don't you think? Could do with a bit of decorating."
Fox scowled. "I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding about…" prompted Vos.
Fox took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the Jedi's feet on his desk. "Your presence here, General Vos, sir. I report directly to the Chancellor."
"You did report directly to the Chancellor. Now, you report directly to me. We must work on what you call me, Foxy; these formalities will never do."
Thorn covered up a laugh with a quick cough.
"Foxy?!" Fox sputtered. "This is not a suitable arrangement for me or the Guard. Sir, why are your feet on my desk?!" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. The General dared to smile. Why was he smiling? The Chancellor often smiled before he did something terrible.
"You and me, Foxy, are going to get along great. I can tell." Vos made no effort to remove his boots from Fox's desk.
Fox stared at him again, only belatedly aware his mouth was open in shock. It was rare that anyone managed to catch him off-guard like this. Throw him for a loop.
Stone came bursting into his office, and for once, Fox was glad of the interruption.
"They're not big on knocking, are they?" he asked Fox in a conspiratorial whisper. "We will have to keep that in mind." He winked at Fox.
No one in his 13 short years—no, his much too long and exhausting 13 years—had ever dared wink at him.
Vos' wrist comm chimed insistently, and he slapped at it to silence the alert before glancing down at the message. "Oh," he said softly, "forgot about that."
A second later, his comm device rang loudly and insistently. Vos sighed and answered- a Jedi Temple guard popping up in holo form. "Knight Vos, you are due-"
Vos cut him off before he could finish. "Don't badger me. I'm on my way." He cut the connection.
Fox exchanged a glance with Thorn and Stone. That is what passed for communications protocol among the Jedi? Unbelievable. This was going to be a nightmare.
Fox might have to do something he'd never done before– ask the Chancellor to intervene.
"Sorry, boys, I have to go. Council meeting." He looked a bit sheepish as he added. "I guess I should look at my calendar more often." He scowled and sighed, not trying to get up or remove his boots from Fox's desk. "But, frankly, I'd rather meet with the Pyke Syndicate."
"Sir," Thorn objected, "you can't possibly be saying you enjoy the company of the Pyke Syndicate."
"I do," Vos freely admitted, apparently in no hurry to leave despite the fact he was due to appear before the Jedi Council. "I know most of the leadership."
"Most of their leadership is now dead," Stone pointed out. "Killed when they showed up here to Coruscant to a meeting last week."
"Ah yes, pipe bomb in the sewers just below the warehouse." Vos made a tut-tut-tut sound. "Very tragic." He waved one gloved finger in the air. "You have to admit, though. It was very neatly done. Minimal damage to the building and the sewer system. No civilian casualties."
"Exactly," Stone stared at Vos in puzzlement, "how did you…" His voice trailed off as he made the connection. "Oh."
"Nicely done, sir," Thorn said, obviously impressed, "crime rates have gone way down in that sector."
Vos blinked at the two of them with overt, innocent eyes. "Me? I only pointed out there was an explosion." His wrist comm chimed again, and he slapped at it again before rolling his eyes. He smacked a transmit button to growl a quick message back. "What?... Of course, I'm on my way- what kind of question is that?" He disconnected the comm and gestured to Stone and Thorn. "Walk me out, boys."
Without another word to Fox, the whirlwind that was Quinlan Vos disappeared out of his office. It was strangely quiet, almost too quiet.
Weird. Fox usually relished any moments of quiet.
Before he lost his nerve, he tapped out a quick comm to the Chancellor requesting a meeting.
He regretted sending the note the moment he transmitted it as a cold feeling of dread settled over him.
"I can still delete it.'
Fox frantically grabbed his datapad to unsend the message.
Thorn and Stone bounded back into his office.
"Not now!" he growled.
"Someone's in a mood," Stone muttered.
"I'll get you fresh caf," Thorn offered.
"I don't need a caf. I need both of you to get out!" Fox yelled, the urgency to delete the message growing with each passing second. It was wrong of him to take his frustrations out on his brothers. They left without another word.
Before he could delete the message, a note came back: 'Meeting requested accepted. 'The chancellor would like to see you immediately.'
'Fek!' he hissed, angrier still because he had brought this upon himself.
#
Fox hurried into the Executive Tower and jammed the button for the Chancellor's private lift. When the Chancellor requested your presence, he wanted you there immediately.
Clones were to use the service elevator unless they were escorting guests.
After a few floors, the lift stopped to admit a service droid toddling in with a cart laden with food. The food dishes were all covered lightly with a force shield to keep them hot and sterile, but the sight of them made Fox's stomach pinch with hunger. Palpatine continually reduced the rations of the Guard, insisting the supplies were needed by 'the brave boys on the front lines doing the hard work.'
If Fox believed the supplies were going to 'the brave boys on the front lines,' he could've tolerated their rations being cut five times. But, it was far more likely the difference was lining the pockets of Mas Amedda and his cronies. They were at half rations now, and Fox could do nothing to make up that severe a deficit.
His brothers routinely sent him troopers they deemed "too shiny for the front lines." It broke his heart every time to see the expression on their faces as life in the Guard sank in. Thorn made a practice of taking these shinies under his wing and ensuring they were alright. Fox didn't have the emotional bandwidth to do it. He could barely make it through each day.
And he'd willingly made this day harder on himself.
"Ah, Commander Fox, there you are," the Chancellor checked his Chrono. A subtle hint: Fox took too long to get there.
Palpatine graciously gestured to Mas Amedda. "We will continue this later. The Commander wishes to discuss something with me."
Palpatine could sound pleasant and condescending at the same time.
Amedda passed him with a smug look as if he knew everything that happened behind closed doors.
"Sit, Commander."
"I'd prefer to remain standing, sir."
Annoyance flitted across the Chancellor's face before his expression smoothed into its usual mask of pleasantry. "Of course. So, what is it you wish to discuss? Your request caught me by surprise since you, of all people, know how busy I am."
'I shouldn't be here. The Chancellor will use this against me.'
But he was here now, and it was too late for second thoughts.
"Sir, I was under the impression I report directly to you."
Palpatine looked at him as if he was daft. "Of course you do, my dear boy; I control you and all of the Coruscant Guard."
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What is this about?"
"The Jedi... the Jedi Council..." The more Fox mentioned the Jedi, the darker Palpatine's expression grew, "I... that is, Mace Windu... he..."
"He what? Spit it out, you imbecile!"
Palpatine showed a side of himself to Fox that he showed no one else.
An ugly side. A cruel side. A terrifying side.
"He assigned a Jedi to the Guard."
Fox waited for the explosion. Palpatine did not disappoint. It always started with verbal abuse first.
The Chancellor leaped to his feet and was immediately in Fox's face. How did he move so fast? It was unnatural.
"What Jedi?" Palpatine hissed; something dark and ugly glittered in his eyes.
"I... he... that is..."
After the verbal abuse always came the physical abuse. Fox knew how to take a punch, but the Chancellor's strikes were so fast, and he never knew where he would strike. The blow hit him in the right shoulder and sent him flying across the room. He hit a display shelf—hard—and his bucket flew off. A vase toppled on his head, shards of glass cutting his scalp and face. Before Fox could recover, Palpatine was looming above him.
"That was an exceptionally rare piece! You will pay for your clumsiness!"
Fox braced himself for another blow, but the 'Chancellor' did something far worse. "I'm afraid war shortages force me to ration the Guard's allotment of supplies by another 10%."
Fox opened his mouth to protest but immediately shut it. Protesting would only make things worse.
"Who is this Jedi?"
Fox suddenly felt it would be a bad idea to mention Quinlan Vos by name.
"I don't know," Fox gasped, hating how weak his voice sounded. "I only came to ask if my reporting structure had changed."
He coughed as blood from his head wound got in his mouth. He wanted to spit the blood out but didn't dare in front of the Chancellor. He was forced to swallow it.
"No, it has not, and it will not change. You belong to me."
Fox shuddered, staring up into Palpatine's menacing visage. Hopelessness and despair washed over him.
It was never going to get better, not for him and not for the Guard.
The Chancellor's automated assistant chimed in. "Your Excellency, High Council Member Windu is comming you on line four."
"Get out," Palpatine hissed.
He straightened his robes and walked regally back to his desk, getting back in character.
"Ah, Master Windu, what a pleasant surprise! I was just meeting with Commander Fox."
Fox was well out of holo cam range and struggling to his feet. He donned his bucket, using his left hand, and walked with as much dignity as he had to the door. None. That's how much pride he had left. None.
"Thank you for your report, Commander. Excellent work, as always." Palpatine's voice was the epitome of polite respect.
"Fek you," Fox hissed in the privacy of his bucket. That declaration gave him some of his strength back, like reclaiming the part of himself Palpatine always stole away. He whispered a quiet affirmation: "One day, I'll put a blaster bolt through your brain." In perfect detail, he pictured it feeling more like a Guard commander again and less like the groveling worm Palpatine reduced him to be.
He limped into the droid lift, still hearing the Chancellor's ebullient tones. "So, Master Windu, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your call today?"
##
Fox jammed himself with a stim while the lift descended. They'd run out of painkillers long ago, but for some reason, Palpatine had never cut their supply of stims. Stim addiction was a constant threat to his overworked, underfed men. He'd lost at least a dozen men to heart attacks from stim addiction. Both his medics told Fox it was a wonder his heart hadn't seized from too many stims.
Fox pulled another stim from his belt and stared at it contemplatively. Tempting. The faces of his men flashed in front of him, and he tucked it back into his belt. He had responsibilities and couldn't take the coward's way out.
His old medic, Silver, had kept after him to control both his caf and stim habits. The new medic, Justice, mainly left Fox alone, but the habits from Silver had stuck with him. He was an incredible medic. Letting him go had been difficult, but Silver belonged in the field. They all did. But this was something he could do to improve the life of at least one of his men. It was ironic. Rex, Wolffe, Bly, and Cody sent shinies his way, and he sent them back one of his finest troopers. He was, without a doubt, an idiot.
Blood was dripping down his neck. Hopefully, his bodysuit contained all of it. Senators were easily offended by the sight of such things. The last thing he needed was to deal with complaints about his physical appearance.
He took the most roundabout way to the hangar bay, sticking to service corridors and the emergency escape tunnels.
Fox's strength was flagging, and he considered stopping for a break. No one was down here and would notice if he slumped against a wall for a few minutes...
He didn't remember sliding down to the ground or closing his eyes. He briefly woke up when he heard footsteps.
'I need to get up.'
But his body had other ideas, and his eyes sank shut again.
"Foxy?"
Of course, it was Quinlan Vos that found him. "You're bleeding. What happened?
Fox struggled to get his eyes to open.
"Mmm... okay," he slurred.
"You are not okay," Vos huffed out a short laugh. "That sounds like something I would say. Can you stand?"
Fox nodded. Or tried to nod. "Ow." He attempted to put a hand to his aching head but hissed in pain when he tried to move his arm. No matter. He didn't need his head or his arm. He only needed to stand.
He pushed his back against the wall, trying to force himself to his feet, and discovered all the bruises on his back. He hissed again but kept moving, trying to get his legs under him.
Vos threw Fox's shoulder over his own, picking the uninjured one. Whether he was observant or it was a lucky coincidence, Fox was grateful to be spared further pain. "Where are we going?"
"There's a secret Jedi safe room on these levels."
"Wha..." Fox didn't know that and thought he knew every corner of the Senate building.
"Yes, well, if it was on the maps, it wouldn't be much of a secret," Vos murmured. Had Fox said that out loud?
Fox's legs gave out.
"Alright, that's it, I'm carrying you."
'No," Fox protested weakly, but he was already in Vos' arms, being carried toward the mysterious safe room.
"Who said you have to pay for a vase? What vase?"
Oh shab. Had he spoken aloud again? His head lolled against Vos's shoulder. At some point, he passed out again.
He awoke in an unfamiliar place. He hated it when that happened. "Fox, look at me." He blinked up blearily, trying to identify the long-haired man above him. Without thinking, he reached up a hand and traced the tattoos. "You're... Kiffar."
"Yes, and I think you may be concussed."
"No," Fox moaned, "not me, Cody."
"What? What are you talking about?"
Fox focused his eyes to focus. "General Vos." He tried to sit up. "I need to get back on patrol."
"You're in no shape to go on patrol."
"I... I'm not..." Fox groaned and reached both hands up toward his head. "Ow."
"Lie still, Fox; I need to remove your helmet. You have blood dropping down onto your armor."
Fox groaned again. "Senators hate that... they don't like seeing blood."
Vos shook his head. "That's what you're worried about right now?" He reached for Fox's helmet. "Help me take this thing off. I don't have any familiarity with your armor."
Vos gasped slightly with surprise as Fox's helmet came off. "Force, Fox! Who did this to you?" He examined the injured Commander, turning his head back and forth. Fox noticed the gloves he wore were buttery soft. "You have a lot of glass embedded in your skull. Is this the vase you were talking about?"
Fox groaned again. "Yes."
"The one you need to pay for?" Vos prompted.
Fox glanced at him sharply, eliciting another groan. "I can't pay for anything."
"Strange someone would ask that of you, then," Vos murmured thoughtfully. He reached out a hand toward the opposite side of the room, and a med kit shot into his hand.
"Handy," muttered Fox, but he couldn't keep the impressed notes out of his tone.
Vos smirked at him. "That's the least I can do."
Fox rolled his eyes and regretted it, as even that simple action hurt. "We don't need a Jedi in the Guard. We've gotten by just fine without one."
"Obviously," Vos agreed. He selected an antiseptic. "Close your eyes." He sprayed Fox's scalp generously and then studied the kit again. "Getting all this glass out will be painful. You're going to want a painkiller."
"The Guard doesn't get painkillers," Fox blurted out the statement and instantly regretted it. Shab. That caught the Jedi's interest. The last thing he needed was the Jedi interfering in Guard business. Palpatine would cut Guard rations to zero.
"Well, they do today," Vos said mildly, injecting the shot before Fox could protest. He leaned back and waited a few moments for it to kick in. "Why doesn't the Guard get painkillers?"
"Rationing," Fox muttered, "supply shortages."
"Ah..." Vos said as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation; he leaned in again to gently- oh so gently- examine the wound. "Who told you about the... uh.. supply shortages?"
Fox averted his eyes. No good would come of revealing his 'talks' with the Chancellor.
"Doesn't matter," he muttered softly.
Amazingly, Vos did not pursue the issue.
"This may feel a bit strange." Vos held his hand out above Fox's head and closed his eyes.
"What are you-'
"Shhh... this won't work if you distract me." Vos peered one eye open. "And you are very distracting."
What was that supposed to mean?
Fox was silent and let the Jedi do whatever the Jedi did. Strangely enough, he trusted this particular Jedi. Not enough to tell him about the Chancellor. That was too dangerous. He already dreaded telling the men he'd screwed up, and there would be another cut in rations.
Okay, that did feel strange. One of the glass pieces was pulling free from his scalp. There was no pain. Painkillers weren't that good. Vos must be doing some Jedi thing.
The first bloodied piece appeared in Vos' hand. He scowled at it and set it aside.
Fox's head wound started bleeding afresh. He blinked furiously, trying to clear the sticky mess from around his eye.
Vos frowned, pulled a wipe, and cleaned Fox's face. It was a strange sensation to be touched by someone other than a brother. Or a droid. Or a Kaminoan. This felt nothing like any of those touches. Vos closed his eyes again. Another piece came loose, and this time, he immediately cleaned Fox's head and brow before blood could get into his eye. Fox found himself leaning into his touch.
'Stop that!' he chastised himself. 'He's a Jedi, for fek's sake.'
"This is the last one," Vos said softly, saying nothing about Fox's disgraceful behavior. For someone who had a habit of showing up unannounced, the Kiffar was surprisingly tactful.
Vos closed his eyes again in concentration, and Fox took the opportunity to study his face. He was beautiful. The Kiffar had stunning features. His facial structure differed from a clone's, which made him all the more intriguing. He had facial tattoos, like Bly, but not like Bly's at all.
Vos pulled out the final piece of glass and set it aside. "Alright, I'm shit at Jedi healing, but I'll see what I can do. You're bleeding a lot."
"Head injuries always bleed a lot," Fox grumbled.
"It's because of all the blood vessels in the brain; 20 percent of the blood from your heart goes up to your brain," Vos murmured, focusing on what he was doing and missing Fox's puzzled expression as he regarded the Jedi more closely. "External bleeding from the scalp just causes blood to spill out, but if you hit your head hard enough, you end up with internal bleeding." He looked at Fox, and their eyes met. Vos broke the moment first, returning to business. "How hard did you hit your head?"
Fox panicked, not wanting to go into specifics. "I..." Vos must have sensed something, or maybe Fox wasn't in any condition to hide his facial expressions.
"I'll assume you hit your head very head. I believe you have internal bleeding, and that's a lot more serious."
Fox tried to stand up, but the Jedi quickly restrained him, holding him in place. "You're in no condition to go anywhere."
"You can't tell me what to do."
"Technically, I can because I am your-"
A sharp knocking on the door interrupted them, causing them to draw their weapons. Vos tilted his head to the side just as a sense of familiarity crossed Fox's face, and he holstered his blaster. "It's Stone and Thorn." He stared at Vos. "You called them? How?"
"I asked for their comm codes, although before the day is out, I want to be looped into Guard comms."
Fox growled. Vos was sounding more and more like a General.
Vos turned the tables on him. "How did you know it was them at the door?"
The sharp knocking repeated, saving Fox from answering. "Come in!"
The two Coruscant Guard commanders entered, walking side-by-side in their full gear, and then stopped, taking in the scene.
"Fox," Stone recovered first, kneeling beside his brother, "you don't look good. Do you want us to take you to medbay?"
Vos noted that neither of the other commanders asked what happened, as if this was a typical event for Fox. At the same time, the hackles rose on the back of his neck; he realized it was a good sign. He may have found an essential clue in his search for the Sith.
"No, I don't want to go to medbay," Fox muttered as if it was the worst suggestion he'd ever heard. "I have to finish my shift." He struggled to rise and promptly fell on his ass again.
Vos addressed the two commanders, ignoring Fox. "I think he has a brain hemorrhage. I can heal him but won't do it without his permission. It goes against my Jedi beliefs."
"Shit," Stone murmured, staring Fox down, "another head injury. Justice is going flip."
"Not if we don't tell him," the fight seemed to go out of Fox, and he closed his eyes with a groan. "Can someone turn down the fekkin' lights?"
Stone exchanged a worried look with Thorn, and they both nodded before looking at their new General. "Heal him, sir."
Fox opened his mouth to object but then closed it again, wincing and breathing deeply as he was hit with a bout of nausea.
Stone removed his helmet, leaned close to Fox, and whispered softly. "We need you around, you di'kut. Now let him heal you with his Jedi..." he made a dismissive wave with one hand, "shit."
Vos snorted. "Thanks for reducing my whole order to one derogatory term." He sounded more amused than offended.
Stone's eyes widened. "Sir, I meant no-"
Vos put up a hand to stop his objections and focused on Fox. "Look at me, Fox. I need you to understand this part." The ailing Guard commander opened his eyes a crack. "I'll need to touch you with my bare hands to make this work." Vos removed his skin-tight gloves with a sense of intimacy like he was removing clothing.
Stone and Thorn looked to Fox for context. "Kiffar," Fox said weakly.
"Begging your pardon, General, but what does it matter what planet you are from?" Thorn asked.
He glanced at Fox to see if he'd fill him in, but his brother had closed his eyes again.
"It matters very much," Vos said. "Among my people, being skilled at tai vordax is common. My family is unusually skilled at this power."
"Psychometry," Stone figured it out first, expressing a new appreciation for their General.
Fox opened his eyes slightly and glared at his brothers. "And, for the record, he's from Kiffu. He's Kiffar, but he's from Kiffu."
A smile tugged at Vos' lips before he returned to the serious business of healing. "I may see something when I touch you," Vos told Fox gently, "likely just impressions, but ethically, I need to disclose it before we proceed."
All three guard members froze up, their alarmed reactions not lost on Vos.
"You'll share with me everything you see, right?" Fox whispered hoarsely. He glanced up at the bare hands hovering by his scalp, breathing deeply to keep down panic and control the nausea.
'This is a bad idea,' whispered one part of him, the dark, uglier part of him that had been tortured repeatedly by the Chancellor. But, another inner voice that had kept him and his men alive against all odds pushed back: 'Trust this Jedi.'
"General," he stopped Vos before the hands touched his skull, "you're one of us now." He stared the Jedi down the best he could, with his vision blurring. "Tell him," he implored his brothers.
"It's a code of honor, sir," Stone told him, looking worried at Fox, whose pallor was getting worse by the second. "What happens in the Guard must stay between Guard members-"
Fox's limbs seized up.
"Hold him down!" Vos ordered, placing his hands against Fox's scalp. "We have to do this now."
#