Sixteen
"Senator Carr! A word if I may?"
She recognised the voice and steeled herself before she turned and watched in horror as the malformed face of the Emperor elect attempted an insincere smile.
Olphina knew there would be questions regarding the Peoples Representative for Oriis and had been trained by Fox in what to say.
"But what if he knows I'm lying? If he's one of these so called dark Jedi, don't they sense the truth?"
Fox didn't know how to answer her.
He had played it by the book since the order went down.
It had been just on a month and things showed no sign of slowing. The newly formed Empire was a juggernaut, unbeknownst to them, manufactured way before the Jedi were eliminated.
Way before they were even created.
Like a benign tumour, the Sith had sat back and waited until the time was right to turn on itself and grow into a all encompassing malignancy.
It seemed the Coruscant Guard had slipped under the HQ radar for the interim, and it had given the commander time to orchestrate a contingency.
"I want to leave," Olphina had stated one night after he announced another four former Republic soldiers had been transferred to the watch house. All men had been hunted down and brutally beaten by Vader's First. Once the fairest and the best, the former 501st were now the most feared within their own ranks.
Fox himself had been deplored at the ferocity in which the two 212th and the two 104th had been treated.
He pulled Olphina in close and whispered in her ear, "remember what I told you to say. That somehow, Representative Gem had become injured during the cull and you had her, and her daughter, transported back to Oriis to rehabilitate. That's all you know."
"But they'll check the medical records, the flight manifest!"
"I've looked after that. Just repeat what I said. Nothing more, nothing less. Keep it brief."
He continued to hold her tight, hoping that he had done enough to halt any further investigation into the flight that left Coruscant in the early hours of the morning which never reached it's intended destination.
Fox was privy to classified information and checked the lists that were updated daily and was aware that Flight Lieutenant Reed had been added to the, person of interest column.
The list grew daily.
Rex had been updated as MIA, which puzzled Fox, but with no one left he could trust, he remained tight lipped.
Wolffe was listed POI as well; his ship never landing back in the Hanger Bay after the notorious pack took out their General Koon.
Gree was dead and Commander Cody was back in his office, seemingly oblivious to the chaos all around him.
Not that Fox could tell.
With the new colourless armour, soldiers appeared as bland as the pristine white they wore. Devoid of character and personality, everyone was just going about their business without asking the one question that ate away at his thoughts.
Why?
Fox knew the Guard would be next to be refitted, but he had requested that they stay in crimson in the interim, to allow the politicians the dignity of differentiating between their Guard and regular troopers.
On the surface, no one would have guessed that Commander Fox was on the verge of losing it; appearing calm and outwardly in control, the cracks however, were starting to show.
The intrigue was beginning to get to him.
He had to shut down mentally towards the men delivered into lock up. Processing them, reading them their rights, the irony being that they had none to begin with, then bringing in the staff medics to treat their injuries.
He made sure that his men knew that the interned were to be treated appropriately, not in the manner in which they had been delivered by the 501st.
Fox was mildly envious of each and every one of them.
Individually they had the balls to make a decision for themselves.
Throughout the day Fox made it his business to monitor the CCTV screens and check on how each of the men were travelling.
All in solitary confinement, some slept, only rising to eat and use the 'freshers. A few he noticed, paced the cell, one in particular kept yelling and punching the walls, desperate to be noticed
To be heard.
But there was one he was worried about. Continually rocking back and forth, this trooper wearing the colours of the formidable Galactic Marines refused to eat. He had been pushed too far. Fox turned to Vail, "lieutenant, I want him on suicide watch."
"Affirmative sir."
Fox turned and watched as another group of medics arrived.
"This is a bloody jail, not a hospital!" He boomed causing the trolleys to stop dead in the corridor.
A soldier stepped out in front; a non clone wearing the new grey flannel of the Empire spoke condescendingly to the commander.
"Orders, Commander Fox, are orders. If you would like to take this up with Military High Command, I would be more than happy to accompany you down to HQ."
Fox moved swiftly, causing the young officer to take a step back when the more senior officer was within an inch of his face. "That won't be necessary, captain?"
"Harrigan, Captain Harrigan, sir."
Fox stepped aside with a sly smile and allowed them to pass. He then watched in horror as two from Bantha squad were pushed roughly into the holding cell, and the straw finally broke.
One had been kicked so hard in the groin he could barely walk, the torturous look of pain and fear written all over the gunners face.
Fox had to look away.
"No brother deserves to be treated like this," he was overheard to say as he marched back down to deliver another complaint to HQ, this time in person. On his way down to the barracks level, the elevator door opened and a soldier entered. With no markings Fox didn't know who he was, just one of thousands now seemingly all over Corsucant.
With a quick nod the soldier spoke, "Commander Fox."
He instantly knew this wasn't one of the new Sparti jobs. No, this man spoke with such familiarity and Fox was just in the mood. This was a Kamino clone, and Fox had him.
"What's your unit?" His tone was overly harsh.
"501st sir."
"You mean Vader's First?" He spat back vehemently.
The trooper stopped for a second and thought of the appropriate response, but Fox beat him to it.
"So you're one of the troopers responsible for getting stuck into the men before they get to me? Good. You can accompany me to HQ while I hand in this complaint!" He waved the flimsie in the troopers face. "What's your designation," he boomed, "or do you still have a name," then under his breath, "Vader's fekking First indeed."
The trooper removed his helmet, "my name is Whisk, sir. And I agree wholeheartedly about the treatment regarding the captured men. As a medic, it goes against all my training," then he took the biggest gamble of his short life, "things would be different if the captain was around."
Fox locked eyes on the medic and Whisk waited for the retaliation. Whisk held his breath, he had just spoken out against his new commander.
Fox knew the 501st men, mostly the tattooed Jesse, and the ARC's after a night down on the lower levels, but he had never come across this medic before.
He waited for what seemed like minutes before he answered.
"I don't think even Rex could have stopped this. Come on," the door swished open and they walked out together.
"Is Appo ordering you to beat the soldiers," he softened a little.
"He suggests we encourage them to come quietly, sir."
Fox slowed to a stop, "you're not afraid to rat out a commanding officer?"
"Not when I believe what he is doing is wrong, sir."
"It's an unwritten reg."
"Doesn't make it any more right."
Fox took in the soldier's appearance; unshaven and unkempt, he looked as tired and weary as he was from the mess they both found themselves in. He inadvertently crumpled the report in his left hand and Whisk could sense his frustration.
"Sir?"
Fox, lost in his thoughts, snapped back to his position and rank, "that'll be all, dismissed."
With a quick clip of his feet, Whisk stood to attention and nodded before he turned and headed back towards the elevator.
Fox remained standing in the corridor for another minute before he too, turned back towards the Senate building, the flimsie filled with angry words for his superiors could wait.
He now had a new mission, the one he thought he had put off until the time was right.
But the time would never be right, he understood that now.
Commander Fox went straight the Senate building to put his plan into action. Opening the door to her apartment, he was immediately struck by the relative quiet.
"Phina? Olphina, you here?" He checked each room, her clothes still hanging in the wardrobes, her perfume the only part of her lingering heavy in the room.
It was just that, she wasn't.
.
