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Fox has made many mistakes during his time as commander of the guard. Perhaps not as many as he has been accused of by various unreasonable natborns, but enough to weigh his conscience down.
He’s about to make another one. His biggest one yet, perhaps.
Himself and one of his finest troopers stand in one of the hidden rooms under the senate building, in the aftermath of the chancellor announcing that one of them will be subject to decommissioning ‘with immediate effect’.
They hadn’t even failed their mission. They’d disrupted the reporter’s investigation easily enough – they just hadn’t recovered all of the expected evidence. There hadn’t been anyone left alive who could have accessed the information again, and yet the chancellor had still deemed the outcome unacceptable and ordered one of them dead.
The words still ring in Fox’s ears.
There isn’t any doubt as to who the lucky trooper will be. The chancellor had cottoned on long ago to the fact that the easiest way to punish Fox was through his brothers. This is just the first time that any of them have had to pay for his errors with their life.
Coil is one of the older troopers under his command. He isn’t a shiny who might speak out against this injustice – he just stands there, silently. He has been on Coruscant for long enough to know that ending up in a situation like this is inevitable. There is no justice for any clone of the guard; no heroic endings. Fox doesn’t even need to look at him to know that he’ll find resignation in his eyes.
It isn’t fair.
This likely isn’t even because of something he and Coil had done recently. Fox knows that there are an abundance of mistakes that he has yet to pay for, that the chancellor will probably be bringing up as soon as Coil’s body hits the floor. This is never something he could have stopped no matter how well he’d prepared his troopers or otherwise tried to protect them. It isn’t fair.
The red guard who had been put in charge of the decommissioning – execution – looms closer. Fox doesn’t hesitate a moment more before stepping in to make what will hopefully be his last mistake of his life.
Everyone freezes as he puts himself between Coil and the red guard. The red guard himself halts mid-swing of the electrostaff.
Fox doesn’t say anything. Just stands his ground, trying not to shake as he does so, as the chancellor circles back in front of them to stare him down. He can hear Coil shift behind him and wills the trooper not to do anything rash.
The chancellor tilts his head, narrows his eyes. He looks at Fox as if he’s a puzzle to figure out.
“What is the point of this?” Palpatine finally says. “You have to know that you can’t change anything here.”
That’s not true. For the sake of his men, Fox has always allowed himself to buckle first. Not this time – this time, he’ll make a different choice.
If he were a stronger man he’d move aside and live to fight another day. He’d take on the burdens of being commander of the guard again without hesitation. If he dies here then another clone will have to take his place – another brother will have to suffer where he has suffered for so long.
But, Fox is tired. Tired of bowing his head in resignation, and tired of letting everyone else fall around him while he has to remain standing strong.
Fox hasn’t truly been strong enough to save anyone in a long time, but perhaps his weakness can save someone now.
Palpatine seems to sense the change in his resolve, and takes the staff from the red guard’s hands. He lowers it himself, which Fox might have once found amusing had he not seen the man performing other feats of strength that would have seemed beyond his elderly disposition.
“Move,” the chancellor orders. “Or I will strike you down.”
Fox looks Palpatine in the eyes, and thinks of never having to make a choice like this ever again.
He stands his ground.
There’s movement and Fox can’t stop himself from flinching, and –
Palpatine does strike him down, but not with a killing blow. He takes the staff and jabs it into Fox’s stomach, the shock leaving his blood boiling and the flesh melting then fusing – then Palpatine stops. He gives Fox just enough time to catch his breath and focus the other trooper before turning the weapon on them instead.
Fox, still doubled over, stands no chance of getting to his feet and intercepting the blow. He can only watch as Coil takes the hit and goes down, contorting on the floor next to him with the staff pressing into his ribs. Coil’s screams die to a gurgle as they start to cough up blood.
Before Fox can make any attempt at stopping the execution two of the red guards grapple him from behind. Fox is pinned down, trapped, too weak to shrug them off.
In front of him, Coil has stopped moving.
Fox stops moving too, letting himself go slack in the red guard’s arms. There isn’t any point in struggling. Coil is a lost cause. Fox has failed. He had been right that tonight would bring his biggest failure yet, he realises dully, but not in his expectation of what that would be.
The chancellor hands the staff back to one of his guards, looking down at Fox with clear disdain.
“If you think that you cannot possibly bear the weight of my expectations for any longer,” he says, “then you are mistaken. If you think that you have hit your lowest point and that I can’t make things worse for you and your men, then you are wrong. And if you think you’ve done enough to earn the mercy of death, then you are duller than I thought.”
Fox can’t look him in the eye but on this occasion the chancellor doesn’t seem to care.
“Now, get back up,” Palpatine continues. “I expect to see you back here tomorrow. Do not be late.”
Everyone leaves. Coil is left, broken, on the floor.
Fox gets back up.