Coruscant! After picking up Disaster Squad from Kamino,
Anakin Skywalker and the 501st head to the Republic Capital to resupply and rest.
The newer troopers of both the 501st and 303rd are excited to see the bustling centre of the galaxy,
but what surprising experiences does the city hold for them?
Hotshot wasn't planning on chaos today, but chaos never seemed to follow a plan, because, hell, it's chaotic.
He lounged wearing his fatigues while inside the mess hall of the Resolute, a bowl of thick porridge sitting on the table in front of him, complemented by pieces of meiloorun and jogan fruit mixed in. A cup with cider lingered within arm's reach, nearly drained of its contents. Wedge sat down the table from him, staring in disgusted fascination at the adjacent 501st trooper, Hardcase, a trooper with blue lines tattooed down the right side of his face, who was busy sculpting a Hutt from his gooey meal, using two round fruit pieces for eyes and a longer one for a mouth. From the data-scans Hotshot had seen while on Kamino of the bulbous creatures, the crudely shaped blob was actually pretty accurate, nose holes and all. Jesse was at the opposite end, reading a data pad while distractedly stirring his food. Echo and Fives, new to the 501st like the men of Disaster Squad, were talking animatedly from another table, bits of porridge occasionally flying between them. Other than that, the large room was empty. Music that Hardcase had dubbed 'Ry-Pop' played from the sound-system, filling the room with a mild paced and catchy ambience. Several beautiful female voices sang out the lyrics, accompanied by native instruments and techno sounds, a strong beat underlying the music.
One, two, three, four (hey!),
Ca, luuk, sor, wachamio!
Here we go, gettin' on out and dancin' through the nights.
Ain't got no brakes, can't keep keep us down, we soarin' to new heights.
Tuklii eyima'enki, feel the magic in the air.
Le'tol aj toli, eyima'go as loud as we dare.
Circoo koa'hiko tenii eyi'sef yagona,
Sur ardo xama'tusla'ma ilora'fanora!
The music suddenly cut off, and a clone's voice came over the intercom:
"All hands, be advised, we are now entering Coruscant space. Crews, prepare for landing sequence, ETA one hour."
"Hey, hey! Coruscant!" Hardcase called, porridge glob toppling over onto the tabletop. "Haven't been back in a while."
Wedge furrowed his brow at the mess, scooting back as it began falling off the edge of the table, splattering on the floor. "What's the city like?"
Jesse put his pad down, looking over. "It's large enough to make you feel claustrophobic, loud enough that you don't hear anything, and there are so many lights that it's dark."
Wedge snorted. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Hardcase grinned lopsidedly, ignoring the dropping goop. "What Mister Mystic means is it's chaotic, but fun. We can getcha down to 79's while we're there."
"79's?" Hotshot asked curiously.
"Yep," Hardcase said eagerly, rubbing his hands together. Echo and Fives had left their seats, walking over with intrigued spelled out on their faces. Echo had a smidge of breakfast on his cheek, while Fives' black shirt had flecks of mushed grain sticking to it. Without a helmet, his tattoo of the number 'five' was prominently displayed on his forehead. "It's one of the only bars we clones haven't been banned from in the capital. With shore days come nights having fun!"
"You mean drinking," Echo asked, arms folded.
Jesse laughed, getting up and coming over too. "That's part of it. The other part usually involves stupid stunts!"
"You would know," Hardcase teased. "I never saw the captain so mad as when you-"
"Hey!" Jesse interrupted, playful scowl wrinkling the GAR symbol on his face. "Not in front of the children!" He gestured towards the four newer troopers, who all wore smirks.
"Sounds like you know how to have fun, unlike some rules-nut I know," Fives said, shouldering Echo.
"Guess you can show us around the city, huh?" Hotshot asked before finishing the last of his food and washing it down with his beverage. "I mean, I've never been off Kamino before now."
Understanding dawned in Hardcase's eyes. "That's right, you're new!" A devilish grin spread on his face, and he glanced at Jesse who matched his look of mischief. "You haven't paid tribute."
"Tribute?" Echo asked apprehensively, eyes flicking towards the door as if checking his escape routes. "What tribute?"
"You can call it an entry-gift, if you like," Jesse offered. "It's something we do 'round here with newbies. When they join on, they add something of value to the Legion."
"Like...?" Fives questioned; brows scrunched.
"Well, when I joined, I got the ARF boys a new BARC speeder," Jesse informed. He pointed at Hardcase. "He got us the Dejarik table down in the barracks."
Wedge wrinkled his nose. "Why is this something you do?"
Hardcase whirled on him, a crazed look dancing in his eyes. "If you don't, then you invite the Curse."
"Curse?"
Jesse nodded, an odd glint in his eyes. "Yeah, the Curse of Hoarder."
Fives sighed dramatically. "Let's hear it."
"Hoarder was a trooper that was part of the 501st, long before either of us joined on. Before Rex even was assigned as Captain, or General Skywalker was put in charge. No one here was around on this ship when he was. They say he was the type to snatch gear, hoarding it for himself. A greedy fellow that looked out for himself and himself only."
"It was just days after Geonosis when he died," Hardcase intoned spookily. "Bullet Company was deployed on an uninhabited backwater world named Hlandus Minor, where the Seppies had holed up a listening post. From it, they raided passing traders and convoys, leaving no survivors. No one really knows what happened after Bullet Company landed on the mist-engulfed surface, though the footage from their shuttles was horrific. Body parts, blood, screaming, explosions. No one, not even the pilots made it back to the Resolute, except for one badly damaged shuttle. It wrecked in the main hangar, not far from the spot your friends Joystick, Dusty, and Shuriken did. Recovery crews and medics rushed to the burning ruin, cutting open the frame. Inside the blood-stained hull was nothing. They slowly made their way to the cockpit and opened it up. On the pilot's seat was Hoarder's helmet, sitting on a red-soaked seat. They lifted up, and inside was his right hand, severed neatly and cleanly. No body, no pilot. The only remains recovered was that."
"They bombarded the base from the air," Jesse finished grimly, eyes travelling slowly across the room, meeting each and every individual's gaze. "Nothing remained, according to the reports, but nobody dared set foot down there again. That night, on the way back to Coruscant, the old Admiral woke up to a blood-curdling scream, chilling him to the bone. He grabbed his blaster and crept out into the halls, seeing movement off to the side. He silently followed it, down halls and past rooms. Finally, he came to a stop outside the barracks. Standing there was Hoarder, armour broken, face drenched in blood, and the right hand missing. He stared at him, horrified. And do you know what the trooper said?"
Not a word was uttered as the four clones stared at Jesse, eyes filled with trepidation, so Jesse continued.
"'Need...'"
"He then charged the Admiral, who shot the trooper square in the chest before being engulfed in darkness. When he woke up, he was in the medbay, his right hand gone, and the stump bandaged. When he questioned the other clones, telling of the dead one, they said that there was no one else in the hall when they came out of the barracks, only a scorch mark five feet from where the Admiral lay. They also reported that much of their gear was missing."
"When they got to the capital, the Admiral retired," Hardcase said, voice nonchalant. "Though ever since then, each new trooper on board has reported a sighting of a pale clone, wandering the halls in an endless search. To appease the spirit, they bring with them a gift, either individually or as a group. If they do so, that one sighting is all they'll ever have. If not... we fear the worst."
Wedge gulped. Hotshot glanced over to see the clone had owl-sized eyes in terror. If he wasn't so creeped out, Hotshot would be laughing at the priceless look. The ship felt sinister suddenly, as if the undead spirit were watching them at every moment, waiting. A cold feeling washed over the back of his neck, like a psychotic snowman breathing down his spine. Hotshot turned, seeing nothing but the empty mess hall. Or was it so empty?
Echo sighed. "How come you tell us about this now? We may have picked a different unit."
Jesse gave him a friendly pat on the back, smiling broadly. "Don't worry. In an hour we'll be on land, and you can go get something for the ghost. All of you can do it together for Disaster Squad."
"Did Raid and the others pay tribute?" Hotshot asked, one brow raised. How come their commander hadn't told them about this? What did they get them into by bringing Disaster Squad aboard this ship?
Hardcase nodded. "Yep. We made them promise not to let you guys know so we can do the traditional ghost story."
"Jerk," Fives muttered, but the two older clones just laughed. "What do we get and where from?"
Jesse wiped a mirthful tear from his eye, flicking it away casually. "That's for you to figure out. No one helped us, so it ain't fair spoiling you."
"Gee, thanks," Wedge spat, voice dripping with sarcastic gratitude.
Standing, Hardcase swatted him. "Oh, cheer up. We gave you plenty of info. You've a fair shot at-"
"Jesse!" A voice called from the left-side door. Redeye stood there, a metal pole in hand. One end of it was wrapped in adhesive tape which hung off like it had been ripped. "The bar broke again."
"Druk! Really?" Jesse walked over towards Redeye, shaking his head. "If I have to fix these things one more kriffing time, I'mma-"
"What's wrong?" Echo asked in concern.
Jesse waved him off. "Nothing. Our exercise equipment is a little... shabby, is all. We haven't been issued replacements because the company that makes them has been undergoing lack of employment. The war is hitting them hard. We might be able to get some new gear on Coruscant, but I'm not getting my hopes up. We'll just make do with patchwork solutions." He stopped at the door, looking back with a smirk. "You guys had best get ready for the city; we'll be down soon. And Hardcase, can you be less disgusting? Kriffing clean up after yourself!"
"Yes Mom," Hardcase muttered, sulking off towards the broom closet, leaving the four clones alone and looking at each other in concern.
Coruscant, capital of the Galactic Republic, was nothing like any of the clones of Disaster Squad had seen ever in their lives. The pictures they saw on Kamino did nothing to prepare them for the sheer massive size of the ecumenopolis. Skyscrapers did more than scrape the sky, standing erect and tall, casually parting clouds with their steel and glass sides. Lights flashed from buildings, speeders, signs, streetlights, lanterns, and an uncountable number of other sources.
Hotshot, Wedge, Echo, and Fives were in utter shock as they walked down the ramp of the Nu shuttle with the rest of Torrent Company and Fang Company at the landing pad for the 501st barracks; a garrison complex on the planet that General Skywalker had asked to be reserved for his troops for whenever they came to Coruscant for rest, resupply, and refitting. The afternoon sun shone down from the sky, making the gargantuan city shimmer vibrantly. The noise of heavy traffic echoed off of the structures, and the newer clones observed the zooming speedways in fascination. The rest made their way to the barracks, conversing and laughing loudly.
"Well... erm, I guess we head into town?" Hotshot asked, looking out pensively at the cityscape.
"Duh, laser-brain," Wedge said, beginning to walk away towards one of the ramps that led down. "On our way in, Mixer pointed out some of the commercial districts, remember? We start there."
Fives shrugged to the other two and began after. Hotshot, not one to chicken out, dashed to catch up.
Echo shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this."
If looking out on the city was chaotic, being within it was pandemonium.
As the four troopers wandered the market streets, outdoor vendors hawked at them, beckoning them over to examine their wares. Objects clinked, people talked and shouted, and the crowds bustled. Hotshot found himself staring in an almost impudent way at every passerby who brushed past him, wondering at the various races and peoples represented. Humans of all pigments, Twi'leks with their graceful bodies, Togrutas with their particularly long lekku and montrals, short Cosians, Zabraks of different shades, Tholothians with tendrils running out the backs of their heads like hair, intimidating reptilian Vurks, weird and literally fishy looking Patrolians, and a menagerie of more bizarre sentients. Interspersed within the crowd were astromechs, protocol droids, and various service bots, performing tasks or carrying luggage. The hum and buzz of dozens of contrasting languages from different speakers mingled together into one, large, babbling nonsense that nearly drove Hotshot mad. This was a different kind of loud than the clone was trained to operate with. He was used to the thought of thunderous explosions, yelling orders, screaming ships and artillery shredding the air, groaning men, and blaster fire. He wasn't trained for... civilians.
"Hey, I think this looks like something!" Fives shouted over the noise of the street. At that moment, a speeder whooshed overhead, drowning out anything he said.
"What?!" Hotshot yelled back, bringing a hand up to his ear.
Fives rolled his eyes and got up right next to his ear before hollering. "This looks like a good place!"
Hotshot recoiled, rubbing the side of his head. "Geez, no need to be like that. Let's go then!" He gestured for Echo and Wedge to follow as he approached the door of a department on their level of the towering building. A neon sign flashed on the outside, saying in Aurebesh 'Droids Galore'.
As the door swung open, a electronic bell rung, but most of the people inside remained concentrated on what they were doing, going up and down aisles. When the door closed behind the clones, instantly the outside noises were muted, and soft, peaceful music filled the void left behind by the street ambience. The smell of cinnamon permeated the air, which Hotshot thought was odd for a droid storage.
"Alright, maybe a droid would make a good tribute," Fives said hopefully, turning his head to take in the many, many shelves, racks, and ports, all occupied by mechanical entities of a variety of shapes, colours, and sizes. "Stick together, and only one, got it?"
"Sure, sure, of course," Hotshot dismissed, already wandering towards some odd-looking vacuum bots. "Whoa, look at this guy! 'Triple strength motor?' Sounds cool."
"So much for staying together," Echo muttered, already walking after Hotshot. "I'll stay with him and find one, you guys grab another one. We'll decide at the registrations counter over there."
"Well, see anything that interests you, Wedge?" Fives asked, looking at the stocky trooper.
Wedge scratched his chin. "Hmm... oh, over there!" He pointed at a thickly built droid on two legs. It's bulky, powerful-looking arms had deployable shovels, picks, a buzz saw, and even a laser cutter. "That looks awesome, and useful."
"Let's go then."
Thirty minutes later Echo, Wedge, Hotshot, and Fives met near the counter, both teams with a droid in tow. Wedge and Fives had returned to get the burly construction droid. It couldn't talk, but it was strong, capable, and was advertised to be able to run. Meanwhile, Echo and Hotshot had selected an orange astromech designated R3-T8, which rolled alongside them and beeped to communicate.
"An astro?" Wedge asked haughtily. "There's already hundreds of those in the 501st."
Hotshot glared at him, offended. "This is an R3, the next model of astromech. Good luck getting a better copilot anywhere else. Right T8?"
The droid beeped appreciatively, rolling up closer.
"Pssh, that's nothing," Fives professed, smug expression in place. "This Z-86 B Heavy Duty Construction Droid can be a big help in operations: building forts, digging trenches, clearing rubble, and even smashing through obstructions. It even has a reinforced durasteel outer plating, making it resistant to all sorts of damage."
"Of course you two went for the big droid," Echo said, rolling his eyes. "It matches your big heads."
"Can I help you gentlemen with something?" a deep, throaty voice asked. They turned to see the four-armed manager walk over, wiping his huge, four-clawed hands on his apron. The grey besalisk was almost two heads taller than any of them, with his shoulders more broadly set and his yellow reptilian looking them up and down. A large pouchy waddle hung from the bottom of his face and a bony, three-pronged head-crest topped his head, completing the dinosaur look. Hotshot smirked at the peculiar odor the man had, obviously something from his species.
"Yes sir," Fives said after a moment's hesitation. "We are trying to pick a droid. Which would you recommend for an active military unit?"
The besalisk's throat rumble, and Hotshot realised he was chuckling, though the trooper's eyes were fixated on the huge, bulging muscle. This guy was even bigger than Wedge. He was tempted to ask if they were related, judging by their shared ugliness, but he didn't wish to upset the manager and not get a droid issued to them.
"I would definitely suggest the Construction Droid," the manager said, gesturing towards it with his two right hands. "It can hold up great in a combat zone, and has a wide range of applications, especially with the upgrades and outfits I have in the back."
"Like what?" Wedge asked excitedly.
The besalisk rubbed his flabby chin. "Well, I've just gotten in stock a grapple-shot for it in a shipment, and I even have demolition charge gear."
Wedge's eyes lit up at the mention of explosives. "We'll take those with it."
"Ain't cheap. Can you afford it?"
Hotshot paused. "Afford?"
The besalisk's brow furrowed. "Yeah, credits. You know, to buy it?"
Fives snapped, a look of frustration on his face. "Right. We're in the city now. We need money for stuff."
"Wait... you don't got money?" The manager looked around, snarling. "Is this some kind of scam? What's your game clone?"
"I like Dejarik, but my favourite is Cube," Hotshot said jocularly. "You play?"
Judging by his growling, he wasn't amused.
"And don't come back unless you can pay!" The besalisk shouted, throwing a clone from each arm out of the open door and onto the street, causing a few pedestrians to gasp as they tumbled dangerously close to the edge of the walkway, which dropped off into the air-speeder traffic.
They began picking themselves up off the dirt, groaning and dusting their clothes off. Hotshot shook his fist at the shop, though the door was already shut. "And your mother is an ugly fat rat-lizard!"
"Hotshot," Echo warned. "You don't want him to-"
"What did you say about my mother?!" The shopkeeper demanded as the door flung back open, crashing against the wall.
"-back."
"Run!" Fives yelled, scrambling away and into a sprint. Hotshot, slightly caught off guard, found himself being half carried half dragged by Wedge for about twenty feet before he was pumping his own legs. The crowd shrieked and shouted confusedly as the large besalisk gave chase.
"I will throw you over the edge and all the way to the underworld, you Hutt-spawned sculags!" Their pursuer bellowed, practically throwing people out of his way as he barreled after them. Hotshot's feet pounded in rhythm with his heart, which was slamming against his chest, threatening to break out and run away by itself. Echo behind him, Wedge beside him, and Fives before him, Hotshot did the only thing he could think of while running for his life.
"At least we smell decent and don't have fat frog faces!"
"Hotshot!" His companions screamed at him, but not nearly as furiously as their future killer.
"Raaarrr! You won't have a face when I'm done with you karking pieces of manufactured hardware! Let's hope there's a clone repair shop nearby!"
"You're just jealous we're all equally smart and good-looking while you're an ugly, four-fingered, half-liza-"
"Shut up!" Wedge shouted desperately.
"Turn here!" Fives ordered, taking a left turn into an alley and out of the crowd. The others followed without question, the sounds of their footsteps bouncing off the graffitied walls. Going full speed, they vaulted dumpsters and stacks of cardboard boxes, turned a few corners, and scared a few tookas from feasting on some scrounged-up rubbish. With the blood rushing through his ears, Hotshot could no longer hear the angered shopkeeper, but kept running, immensely glad for the intense running they had participated in on Kamino.
The alley spat them out into a large plaza, the details flashing by Hotshot's notice as he tried to stop from running into the crowd. No such luck.
Tumbling over some people who shouted and cursed, the four clones rolled out into the centre at the feet of a surprised old man in red robes. Before they could do anything, rifles were pointing at their faces.
"Don't move!" A Senate Commando in blue armour marked with white ordered, leveling a carbine at Echo.
"Whoa, whoa! No worries! We didn't mean to!" Echo said hurriedly, upraised hands protecting his face.
"Guards, stand down," a soft yet ordering voice commander. Hesitantly, the Commandos lowered their weapons. Hotshot and his brothers climbed to their feet, gazing at the man before them.
Hotshot looked at the man. Baggy red robes covered his average frame, though the years were not kind on his complexion. Wrinkles abounded on his aged face, and his hairline was receding. Two piercing blue eyes peered out at them, set on either side of a broad nose. His expression was kind enough, yet he seemed to be judging them silently. Hotshot felt oddly nervous.
"Hi," Hotshot greeted, raising a hand. Instantly, guns were pointed at him, arming. "Whoa, hey... please don't hurt me."
The man waved the guards down, smiling. "Can you not see that they are clones? Be more welcoming."
"Thank you," Fives said, brushing his pants off. "I'm CT 27-5555, or Fives. These are my brothers Echo, Hotshot, and Wedge. Sorry for barging through, sir."
"Not to worry, I welcome the chance to converse with you or your fellow clone troopers. I am Chancellor Palpatine."
Hotshot stared, surprised. This old prune? Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, the most powerful man in the Republic? Suddenly, Hotshot was aware that the people he had bowled over were a bunch of new crews, some of their gear damaged from the trooper collision. They were in a sunlit plaza with a large, bronze statue of some bearded man in the centre on a wide, raised dais. Judging by the guards and the annoyed looks on the spectators' faces, they were interrupting some important speech or another.
"Ch-Chancellor, sir!" Echo began stuttering out in his shamed embarrassment. "We are so sorry; we didn't mean-"
"Nonsense," Palpatine dismissed politely. "You have done nothing to be sorry for, my son. Tell me, why would you be running through the streets like how you were?"
Wedge gulped. "Oh, w-well... we were being chased, and we were just trying not to be murdered-"
"Murdered?" The Chancellor asked in concern, and his guards perked up, cocking their weapons. "My, are you injured?"
Fives stepped in. "Sorry, your Excellency. My friend is just using an expression. It was a disgruntled shop owner who we attempted to purchase a droid from, but we're pretty new to civilian lifestyles, so we forgot we needed money, unlike on Kamino where we just request the gear we need."
"Ah," Palpatine nodded in understanding, smiling once more. Hotshot didn't feel comfortable under his scrutiny, though. Something about the man was seriously creeping him out, but he couldn't name it. He shrugged it off. He was just edgy from the chase through the streets as all. The Chancellor continued. "Well then, I welcome you here since you are new. And to prevent further incidents, I will give you this." He produced from his robe a small stack of golden credits and put them in Echo's hand. "It is all I have on me," he apologised, as if the shining pile of pure gold was a single copper credit. "But it is a small thing compared to what you and your brothers do for the people of this Republic."
"S-Sir, thank you," Echo stammered, pocketing the money awkwardly.
"Think naught of it. Now, would you care to do a quick shoot with me?"
Fives nodded quickly. "We'd be honoured, sir."
Palpatine positioned himself carefully in the middle of their group, two clones on either side, and put his arms around them, smiling softly for the camera. Hotshot tried, but then the Chancellor's hand brushed his neck. He nearly shivered at the unreasonable cold he felt, sending a tremor down his spinal cord. Even once the photos were taken and Palpatine retracted his arms, he continued feeling the chilling touch. Fives was talking but, Hotshot was too distracted to hear it. After a moment, Wedge tugged his arm, and he reluctantly followed the others through an opening in the news reporters.
They walked in silence for a bit, going down a main avenue and coming out on a familiar street. Down the way was the very shop they'd been thrown out of.
"The Chancellor is a pretty nice guy," Wedge said, looking at the money that Echo fished from his pocket. "No wonder he's in office."
"I guess we can buy those droids now," Echo reasoned, flipping the credits. "Wow, this is worth eight hundred. Definitely enough for whatever those droids' cost."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Fives spoke, glancing at Hotshot. "That besalisk might not take kindly to us showing up again, money or no."
"I agree," Hotshot said, gears already turning within his head. "What someone said earlier has got me thinking. Things were free on Kamino, right?"
"Yeah, we just had to request and do the paperwork," Wedge remembered, scratching his chin. "Why?"
"What's the closest thing to Kamino?" Hotshot waited for an answer. When none was forthcoming, he continued. "The Republic Garrisons, instalments, and other bases around the capital."
Fives scrunched his brow. "You want to go all the way across the city to the central sectors to ask a random regiment to issue us their stuff?"
"Yeah, basically."
"I'm down with it, what about you guys?"
"We have the money to pay at a shop, and it doesn't have to be this one over here," Echo reasoned.
"Call this an investment towards our futures," Hotshot told him, patting his shoulder. "This'll be simple."
"I'm pretty sure that's what we thought when first coming down here," Wedge snorted. Despite that, both clones began to follow Fives' lead as the began towards the centre of the city.
As they walked, they took in the sights and the smells. Hotshot's stomach growled an enraged protest at him as they passed a Cafe, the aroma off fresh bread, muffins, and coffee wafting out the open windows and into the streets. Several tables were set up outside, mostly occupied. A young Tyrian Twi'lek woman in a skirt and a revealing top who sat alone met his gaze and giggled as he blushed, averting his eyes quickly. As they walked though, he was curious if she was still watching him. Glancing backwards surreptitiously, instead of seeing her looking at him, he saw several feet behind him a pale, burly human with shaggy brown hair, wearing a black leather jacket and torn pants, and he was following them. They met eyes and the man grinned evilly.
"Uh, guys? I think we've got a problem."
"Oh really?" Wedge asked. "You don't say." Hotshot realised they had stopped, so he turned and came face to face with four ugly goons, two of them dark brown Zabraks, one of them a teal Rodian, and the last a dark skinned, bald human with a golden tooth. All of the men had blasters in a holsters on their right thighs.
"Hey there, friends," one of the Zabraks greeted them casually, like they were meeting up for lunch or something. "Nice day, ain't I right?" All nearby pedestrians had quickly made themselves scarce, leaving the streets deserted.
"Oh, it was," Fives replied coolly, motioning the others to spread out slightly. "What do you want?"
The man behind them cleared his throat. "You're comin' in our protection zone. There is criminals 'round here, you gotta have some form of security."
Wedge cracked his knuckles, looking from thug to thug. "And that involves us how?"
"We can't keep our protections up without some... returns, if you know what I mean."
"What make you think we have what you're looking for?" Fives asked, an undertone of anger in his voice.
The Rodian pursed his extended mouth. "We saw the Chancellor slip ya some dough. If ya want to enjoy our protections, we need ya to hand it over."
Hotshot frowned. Four on five were not perfect odds, though Wedge could possibly take two at once. Glancing back again, he saw the pretty Twi'lek woman had produced a communicator and was talking into it, eyes on Hotshot and his brothers. Something in her look said, 'hang on.'
Hotshot forced a laugh, assuming the fighting stance Arjhan had taught him and wishing he had brought a blaster. "Well, I hope you have side jobs, 'cos our money ain't going in your filthy hands, punks."
The second Zabrak sighed, faking disappointment. "I hoped we could handle this civilly, but..." he produced his blaster, as did his friends. They trained them on the clones, who all prepared to fight.
Then the unexpected happened.
The sound of a lightsaber triggered behind them, and all eyes turned to the Twi'lek woman, who gripped a green blade, contrasting with her light purple skin.
"I'd advise against attacking soldiers of the Republic," she stated calmly, stance casual. She sported the faintest of accents, almost imperceivable.
The dark-skinned man growled, but a look of nervousness flashed across his face. "Stay out of this, Jedi. What do you care about what happens on the streets?"
"If you think I don't care about the people, you are mistaken," she said, shifting the grip on her lightsaber. "Now, move along."
In a flash of extreme courage, or maybe extreme stupidity, one of the Zabraks fired a red bolt at the Jedi, who deflected it into the ground easily. Fives tackled the bald guy, taking him to the floor, and while Echo and Hotshot dodged lasers, Wedge charged and did a strong uppercut punch to the Zabrak who had fired, knocking him flat.
"Die, Jedi scum!" The other Zabrak yelled, firing off quickly, retreating several steps as she blocked, slowly pacing forward. Hotshot, thinking to participate, struck the man wearing leather with a kick to the back of the knee. He buckled, hitting the pavement with a sickening cracking sound of the skull. Echo tackled the final Zabrak, pulling him to the floor and restraining him.
Sirens filled the air as a police cruiser hovered down. Three lanky police droids hopped down; blasters bared. "Halt, sentients! This is the police!"
Instead of halting, the Zabrak that Echo fought knocked him off and shot the droids in rapid succession before wheeling on the clone again. He tried to shoot Echo but the gun was ripped from his hand and flew through the air into the outstretched grip of the Jedi. The Zabrak, stunned, didn't see Echo's fist swinging towards his face until it impacted, sending him to the floor.
Another three cruisers came to a stop, depositing three blue police droids each. "You're under arrest, on the authority of the Coruscant Police Department."
"Good, officers. Can you- hey, hey! What gives?" Wedge blurted as the police pulled him off the thug he had been wrestling. Binders were being slapped on the wrists of everyone involved, excluding the Jedi, who turned her lightsaber off and approached the lead officer.
"Officers, there's no need to arrest the clones," she tried to reason as a transport speeder hovered over, the back doors opening automatically. Inside the cramped compartment was space enough for several prisoners. The only windows were the pair on the doors which were doubtlessly made of a extremely tough material. "I was here the whole time. They-"
"Step aside, Ma'am," the droid intoned in its dead, robotic voice. "We will be taking all of them to the nearest facility. This is in our jurisdiction now."
"But-"
The droid stepped forward. "I must insist you that cease and desist arguing. We must process all of them."
She huffed as the droids began forcing cuffed prisoners towards the transports, hands on her hips.
"Being citizens of the Republic, you have the right to remain silent," one of the droids began rattling off. "Anything you say can and will be used in the court of law. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time. You have the right to request a hearing before any one of the civil courts within the city and you will not be prohibited from said hearing. You have the right to-"
"The right to my butt," Wedge spat, being shoved into the awaiting speeder.
Echo sighed, looking at the news drones that were gathering overhead. "Can this get worse?"
Anakin and his wife, Padmé, sat on the couch in her apartment, talking and laughing in the fading sunlight that spilled through the windows, catching up on the past few weeks. With the war going on, Anakin relished the chance to spend some quality time with the Senator of Naboo. Even when he was on Coruscant, it was difficult to get time alone with her, between his Jedi duties, her Senate calling, and the fact that they couldn't allow anyone to know they were married.
See, the Jedi Code prohibited 'attachments', which traditionally meant Jedi couldn't get married or fall in love. If they did, they had to let go, which is something Skywalker was not willing to do. He had loved Padmé since he had first saw her on Tatooine all those many years ago. Though there were challenges to a secret relationship that often times had to be a long distance one, Anakin and his wife had remained perfectly faithful.
"So, then I said to him, 'Khan, your time of terrorising villagers is over'," Anakin said, one arm around Padmé, the other gesturing widely in the air. "He tried to attack me with a vibro-blade, but I tripped him over without moving much. Obviously, the guy spent more time being a tyrant than fighting. As Rex and the boys loaded him in the shuttle, I leaned over really cool like and told him, 'When you get to jail, tell 'em Skywalker sent ya.'"
Padmé giggled. "You didn't."
"I did! Then we flew him to the nearest-"
"Wait," she interrupted, leaning forward. "Aren't those your troopers? You sent me a picture of them and Rex."
Anakin looked over at the TV and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. There, from the news feed, was Echo and Fives, along with Hotshot, Wedge, and a bunch of random guys being loaded into police speeder, while a Twi'lek he vaguely recognised from the Jedi Temple protested with the chief officer droid. Padmé turned up the volume to hear the speaker.
"-arrest on Vlaggen Street of the combatants is complete. Weapons of the participants have been confiscated, and they have been transported into 65th Coruscant Guard custody upon the realisation that some of them are clones. Witnesses are being questioned, and it has been determined that these clones are the same ones who intruded on Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine's dedicatory speech at the statue of Gryffon VanGyff." On the screen came a picture of Palpatine with his arms around the four clones, posing for the camera crews. The troopers all had various degrees of nervousness, from Fives seeming the calmest, to Hotshot who had a very disturbed face on, yet smiled weakly nonetheless. "We go now to live street interviews of some of the bystanders of tonight's disturbance. Kyle, down to you..."
Anakin had stopped watching, looking down at his now buzzing comm. When he answered, the voice of Rex came over.
"Sir, I take it you've seen the news?"
"Yeah Rex, are they alright?"
"We got a call from Jek. He says they were actually assaulted while on their own business. They'll be released in no time. I'm sending Joystick in a speeder down towards the compound to pick them up."
Anakin sighed, relieved. "Sounds like it's under control. Alright, call me if anything happens."
"Sir, yes sir."
Padmé put a hand on his shoulder, and Anakin smiled at her. "Don't worry, Rex is handling it."
"That's a very responsible Captain of yours," she said.
Anakin snorted. "Unlike some other troopers I can name."
"You have to be lenient with them. They are fresh from Kamino."
"Yeah, you're right. Anyway, where were we?"
"You were saying how you made cheesy one-liners to hardened tyrants and warlords?" She offered with a sly smile.
"Heh, yeah. Right, so..."
"Echo, Hotshot, Wedge, and Fives, is it?" A clone in red marked armour asked, disabling the shield to their cell. He had a black kama and an elaborate symbol of the Coruscant Guard on his chest plate. A red visor complemented his look of awesomeness. "I'm Commander Fox. Come with me."
The four troopers followed the Commander out and down the halls. All of the cells were empty, as the real criminals, including the thugs from earlier, were all transported to an actual detention facility across the city. Good thing, too. The halls were mostly empty of the red marked 65th troopers.
"Somebody from your unit is waiting outside for you," Fox said in a voice that invited zero conversation. "I advise you to return to return to your barracks for the evening. My security forces are needed for an event, and we can't have shinies wandering around causing trouble, you get me?"
"Yes sir," Echo replied as they exited into the late evening air.
As they crossed the compound, Hotshot noticed many details about the place. Perfectly lined up buildings, well-polished gear, crates in orderly stacks, and vehicles parked in straight rows. 'Great,' he thought. 'It's the OCD Legion, polished, waxed, and buffed. No wonder they're the Chancellor's police force.' He nearly stopped in his tracks when a clone walked out of a building. The brief moment the doors were open, he saw inside many different, shiny, good quality exercise equipment, from treadmills to different press machines. At that moment, he smiled widely.
They proceeded to a large blue speeder that waited, hovering inches off the ground. Inside sat Joystick in his armour, helmet on.
"Hey, you idiots, giving the police a good time?" He asked.
"Joystick, we were, um," Wedge stumbled over his words, but Joystick just waved him into the speeder.
"No explanation needed. This place needs a little trouble now and again. Thanks for babysitting these chumps, Commander. You're a legend, man."
Fox grunted, walking away. The clones piled into the speeder and Joystick took off, headed in the direction of the 501st barracks.
"Hey Joystick, can you do me a favour?" Hotshot asked from the backseat.
"And what would that be, my criminal friend?" Joystick asked humorously.
"We need to go back to the 65th compound."
Joystick snorted, looking back at him briefly. "What, you want back in jail?"
Hotshot shook his head, looking at his curious companions. "We need to get a tribute for Hoarder, and I found the perfect thing."
"Hoar-? Oh, the ghost. Is that what this is all about?"
Fives nodded from the shotgun seat. "We tried shopping, but we couldn't pay for anything."
"What's your idea, then?" Joystick asked Hotshot, voice betraying his interest.
Hotshot grinned mischievously. "We 'tactfully acquire' the 65th's exercise equipment."
"You want to rob the Coruscant Guard?!" Echo sputtered incredulously. "You are looking to land back in that cell!"
"Not if we're not caught," Hotshot rebuffed. "Anyway, they're Palpatine's personal guards. They can afford new crap, while ours is decrepit and all our requests for newer gear go unanswered."
Fives snatched his chin, his smile matching Hotshot's. "We may be able to pull it off. Most of the 65th is going off to some important event. If we can jam the cameras-"
"Jam cameras?!" Echo asked as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "We could be court martialed or worse!"
"Would you rather have an angry ghost trying to eat you?" Wedge retorted, looking on board. "You think you can help us out, Joystick?"
The pilot laughed. "Of course I am! No one needs to ask me twice about stupid stunts! What's your idea?"
"We have Nerd attach his jammer thingy to Mate, who we drop in the compound. That'll scramble communications and the cameras. We then drop in and grab the goods."
Fives smirked thoughtfully. "We can't afford to be recognised by a guard, especially since we've been here before. We can wear plain armour to disguise ourselves because our markings on the normal gear would give us away. As shinies, we could be from any Legion, Battalion, Company, or Squad."
"We can't steal equipment," Echo protested weakly.
"Not steal, of course not," Joystick said slyly. "We'll give them ours."
Wedge laughed loudly at that. Hotshot looked at Echo, who seemed indecisive. "Don't worry. I'd rather face corporeal justice than spiritual damnation for not giving a greedy ghost a stupid welcome gift."
Echo hesitated, then sighed. "Okay. Let's do it quickly."
"Nerd, is Mate ready?" Fives asked as the approached the compound. In the back of their large borrowed brown cargo speeder driven by Joystick were Nerd, Echo, Wedge, Hotshot, Recoil, and Mate the astromech. The cold night air blew past, but Hotshot didn't mind. He was too busy admiring the light show that was the city, glinting, glimmering, shining, and blinking in dark. Unlike every speeder below, the clones did not have their headlights active, instead hoping to catch the 65th by surprise.
"Almost," Nerd replied distractedly, finishing attaching a large pack with an antenna on it to the droid. Mate made some disgruntled whooping noises, and Joystick laughed.
"You're not being paid at all, you grump," the pilot said, looking out over the edge. "Get ready for the drop. Remember, don't engage the jets 'til you're almost down."
The droid waved an arm in dismissal as Nerd sat back. "He's done and ready for the op."
"This is going to be epic," Recoil said excitedly, patting the net that held the 501st's very well used and 'loved' equipment secure to the speeder.
"Drop... now!" Joystick ordered, and the droid rocked over the side of the craft. "Alright, I'm coming around. Fifteen seconds people."
"You okay Echo?" Fives asked.
"Let's get this over with," his brother sighed.
"Landing," Joystick informed quietly them as they descended rapidly, alighting in the compound beside the astromech. "Alright, you know the plan. Move!"
Recoil, Wedge, Fives, Hotshot, and Echo all hopped out, while Nerd uncovered the package in the back. Turning on the hover-carrier platform the equipment rested on, he floated it off. The five other clones rushed it towards the building that Hotshot had described, finding the door unlocked. As the rest pushed the cargo inside, Fives hit the lights, illuminating a large gymnasium.
"Okay, offload their replacements and let's grab the goods!" Fives ordered in a hurried whisper. The troopers began easing the old, taped up and dented gear onto the floor. When they finished, they went about grabbing the 65th's equipment, grunting and panting at the exertion needed to move such heavy equipment so quickly.
Wedge stumbled, nearly dropping the pull-up bar, earning a scolding from Echo, whose helmet was rotating constantly.
In the space of five minutes, they filled up their carrier and were on their way out. Fives shut off the lights as everyone jogged as silently as they could towards the speeder, where Nerd, Joystick, and Mate were waiting. They were almost home free. Naturally, that's when things went south.
"Hey, stop there!" A clone in red and white yelled, pointing his blaster from twenty yards away.
"Move!" Joystick ordered, beginning to lift off as they loaded the gear onto the back. Nerd secured it while the others dove into the back seats. A few stun rings were fired from the guard as they flew off, the clones in the back cackling like madmen.
"Joystick! We've gotta make sure we don't get followed!" Echo called, the only trooper not finding the past events enjoyable.
"Now you sound like a criminal!" Fives teased.
"Hang on back there!" Joystick laughed, jerking down into city traffic.
About twenty minutes later, they all set down outside the Resolute, which was docked in the shipyards. The clones piled out, still chortling and talking loudly.
"Alright you buffoons," Joystick said through his laughs. "Get this into the training room onboard and then we can call it a night."
"Been up to much?" A familiar voice asked, and they all turned in dread to see General Skywalker standing there, arms folded. Beside him stood Captain Rex, Jesse, and Seargent Appo, helmets tucked beneath their arms.
"Oh, General! We... erm, were..." Echo stuttered, and Fives quickly stepped around him.
"We were getting the tribute we need for joining the 501st," he told him. Anakin's brow furrowed for a moment, then he snorted.
"Oh, this again? I still haven't seen this 'ghost' you guys talk about."
"It's real sir," Jesse said. "We've all seen it once."
Anakin shook his head. "Whatever. Just don't go exploring the city without telling an officer first. Otherwise, you end up on Galactic News with the Chancellor or in the hands of the 65th." He raised an eyebrow, and every clone had a brief thought, wondering if he knew what they had done. "So, what did you get?"
"New workout equipment," Hotshot boasted, gesturing grandly at their haul. Anakin and the other clones walked over to examine it.
"Good quality," Appo admired. "Looks brand new."
"Now we don't have to buy so much duct tape," Jesse muttered, stroking the shiny metal. "This is pretty good. Where'd you get it?"
"We talked to Commander Fox earlier then got some of their gear," Joystick said slyly. It wasn't a lie, but not the whole truth.
Rex nodded. "Fox is a good man. Strict, but I expect he was happy to help. Well, let's get this stuff set up then get off to sleep."
The clones and Mate all followed Rex and Anakin, bringing their haul behind them. They entered via the boarding ramp, going down dim halls and towards the Torrent Company barracks. Conversation was idle if not non-existent as most of the group's individuals were lost in their thoughts. They reached the barracks quickly and navigated around bunks, crates, and various objects inside before entering into the training room. Appo turned on the lights as everyone began unloading.
"This stuff looks even better in the light," Jesse approved after a bit, helping Recoil and Wedge with the treadmill. "Nice and shiny. Hoarder will be more than satisfied with this. He may even want more."
"Oh, shut up," Echo grumbled, setting the pull-up bar in place. "We played your game, ran around town getting into trouble, so you can-" All of a sudden, the lights went out. Everyone froze, looking around at each other.
"Okay, who did that?" Wedge asked nervously. "It ain't funny."
"Nobody's near the lights," Appo said, gesturing towards switch that was still in 'On' position. "They must've died." A sudden chill swept the room, chilling each person to the bone. Rex produced his blasters, while Mate turned on his flashlight eye.
"Alright, is Hardcase hiding somewhere?" Fives asked apprehensively, lifting up a weight like a weapon. "If it's him, I'll kill him myself."
"He's sleeping at the barracks," Jesse informed them slowly, eyes flicking around the room.
Anakin's hand was straying towards his lightsaber. "I sense... anguish. Pain. Fear."
"I think the fear might be Wedge," Hotshot joked halfheartedly, but earned not one chuckle.
Joystick produced a pistol, holding it ready, and Appo unclipped his carbine from his belt. Hotshot was wishing he had a weapon when he turned, seeing in the midst of their group was an eleventh clone.
"G-G-Guys?" he stuttered, backing away from the pale trooper. His armour was broken and beaten, like he was trampled by a herd of nerf, and he wore no helmet. His gaunt, shallow face was spattered with blood, dripping down from his chin. His right hand was missing at the wrist, leaving a perfectly clean-cut view of the muscles and veins inside. His haggard frame looked barely able to support his own weight.
The group began spreading out and away from the apparition, weapons held ready. Anakin ignited his lightsaber, blue light almost reflecting off the trooper in the centre.
"Hoarder," Rex whispered cautiously, blasters trained on the ghost's head. What good could weapons do against something that was already dead though?
The trooper faced each one of them in turn, glassy eyes emotionless. When its gaze passed through Hotshot, he felt as if it really was through him, leaving a hole in his soul, empty of all joy and hope.
Finally, it stared at Anakin, who glared defiantly back. Its mouth moved, uttering a single syllable in a voice like theirs, but cold, raspy, and hollow, sending creeping chills up Hotshot's back.
"Need."
In the blink of an eye, it was gone, and the lights reengaged, blinding them all briefly. Slowly, weapons were replaced.
"I think I believe in your ghost now," Anakin muttered, turning his blade off and hooking it on his belt. "I'm almost ready to go get some help from a Jedi who knows more about this kind of thing."
"I-I saw him... again," Jesse stuttered in fright. "I never thought I would."
"That's it! Krong this druk, I'm out," Echo declared, grabbing Fives by the arm and leading him towards the door.
Nerd cleared his throat. "I have... a thing to recalibrate."
"I think bed is calling me," Recoil said swiftly, retreating as well. The clones all began leaving hastily, soon leaving only Anakin, Rex, and Appo.
"Have... you both seen this ghost before?" Anakin asked slowly.
Appo gulped. "Yes sir, when I was a private."
"Did you two do this 'Tribute' thing?"
Rex nodded. "Even I did it, though not a private."
Anakin thought, reaching out through the force. He couldn't sense it anymore, though something told him it was still there. "I definitely will talk to Obi-Wan about it, but for now, how about you two get some rest?"
"Yes sir!" They said in unison and saluting before leaving. Anakin lingered for a moment before following.
"Commander, sir!" A trooper saluted, and Fox waved to put him at ease. "We have accessed the city cameras and come up with this."
A holo-recording played on Fox's desk, and he paced over. It showed a speeder full of unmarked clones breaking acceptable traffic laws in downtown of the Trendar Sector. He paused it, zooming in. Inside was an astromech of the C1 model.
"I want that droid and the speeder ID on my desk," he ordered.
"Sir, yes sir!" The trooper left, and Fox marched to his window, glaring out at the city.
Somewhere out there, a group of hooligan clones had stolen his men's gear and replaced it with rundown junk. It wasn't a major crime, but it was an embarrassment; an insult to the 65th's honour. A forensic was almost useless, as all the fingerprints found were exactly alike. The downside of the entire army consisting of billions of the same man.
"I will find you, troopers, and you'll be sorry."