Chapter Text
**1
This wasn’t routine. Clones worked with Jedi Generals outside of Coruscant. Not within the city planet itself. Commander Fox had protested the assignment, but the Jedi Council won their argument. The Jedi investigation suggested Force Users within the criminal gang which meant Jedi had to join the raid.
CT- 87/3001 scowled at the contingent of Jedi he had been assigned to. A Jedi Master. A Jedi Knight with her first Padawan. And a masked Jedi Temple Guard. Four Jedi to a unit of fifty Clone Troopers of the Coruscant Guard. They were one unit of twenty total and were to storm twenty different locations at the same time.
They were assigned the lowest Undercity level. Getting there unseen should have been impossible. Even the Jedi were a bit unnerved with the masked Temple Guard slicing the code in every out of bounds corridor from the surface to the lowest levels possible. CT-87/3001 thought he saw Level 395 scribbled on the last visible marker. That was over an hour ago.
Captain Gadfly signaled a stop in a deserted corridor. His grating voice sounded in their headphones only. “We’re in position. Confirmed other units are within two minutes of their points. Our points of entry are those doors. The Jedi will enter first.” He switched his external speaker on. “Master Jedi, we’re two minutes to time.”
“Thank you, Captain.” The pale yellow Rodian nodded. “Hathi and Reelop, provide cover to the Coruscant Guard. I’ll spearpoint the attack and you will join once the Guards have their position. Master Guard, I trust you will provide assistance where necessary.” The silent masked Jedi simply nodded.
Troopers did their final checks and prepared to storm the cargo door. Then the silence broke with Captain Gadfly shouting, “Go! GO! GO!”
The Jedi ripped the doors from the wall and dove into the darkness. Green and blue lightsabers flashed, blocking hundreds of blasters. CT 87/3001 pushed his shield into the space created by the Jedi. With his brothers, their shields secured a barrier for the riflemen take better positions. Blaster fire flew over his head in both directions, rammed against his shield. He shouted to the shield team. “Step!” They advanced two paces. “Step!” They advanced again. He got a clear view of the Rodian slicing through the smugglers and slavers and spice runners.
“Canon!” Trooper Ingot yelled from the left. CT 87/3001 had just turned his head to look when the blast decimated the line of shields. A yellow blade flashed between him and the cannon. CT 87/3001 blinked and realized his helmet was gone. The buzz of strange silence rushed into concussive blasts and stomping boots getting farther away.
He was too hot. His arms were too heavy to move.
“Do not move, CT 87/3001.” An even modulated voice reached him. “The Medic of this unit is dead. We are waiting for reinforcements.”
“I can’t…. I can’t breathe….” He weakly tried to pull at his chest armor.
The white faceless mask with the gold font of power peered down at him. “Your armor is cracked. If I remove it, you may bleed out.”
“Take it off!” He wheezed. “I can’t… breathe…”
“That is not recommended.”
CT- 87/3001 fought his own limbs. Gentle yet firm hands held down his wrists. “Do not move. The Medic is on their way.”
“Where….?” He searched the blank mask for anything to give true hope.
“On their way.” The Temple Guard answered. Their conviction slipped.
CT 87/3001 closed his eyes. A quick death was better than this fading.
**2
The life force of the Clone Trooper grew weak. The Temple Guard was alone in the criminals’s former stronghold. Troopers and criminals lay dead. This Trooper was the only one who survived the canon blast. The Temple Guard had taken out two other heavy guns when the warning had come. But they had been too late. The Troopers bearing the shields were gone.
Jedi Master Veena Lool directed everyone to rush after the fleeing criminals. The Temple Guard made the decision to remain to help the wounded. One by one those wounded perished. A failure the Temple Guard despised. They had been sent on this mission purely for their skill with slicing and knowledge of the ancient lower levels of Coruscant. They were a fighter. A shadow. Not a healer. While they understood basic first aid and medic supplies, they were not skilled in the finer details of medicines and critical injuries.
This Clone Trooper. CT 87/3001. He still breathed but only because the fractured armor prevented the clone from bleeding out. Now this trooper was fading. The Temple Guard couldn’t loose everyone they had attempted to protect. The Medics were not fast enough. This unit was too far down in the Undercity.
This failure would haunt the Temple Guard for years to come. They had to do something. They were out of hemostatic bandages. Nothing could tourniquet the chest cavity. Medically they were lost. Their lessons with the Jedi Healers had only included the medical apparatuses and the healing of a mind shattered by the Force. Using the Force to heal physical wounds was expressly forbidden.
Life could only come from Life.
They had read ancient scripts explaining how to Force Heal. Ancient Jedi had done so.
The Temple Guard could not loose this Trooper. If this Clone died, then the Temple Guard may as well forfeit their position as a Jedi and leave the Order. They were a Protector unworthy of protecting anyone.
Reaching out in the all pervasive Force, the Temple Guard put all their focus on the wound. On the plastoid puncturing the clone’s chest. On the blood vessels. On the muscles and lungs. They placed a hand on that wound and sent their life into the Trooper. They could never have practiced this before and yet they were determined to keep this clone alive.
The Force shone brightly to their mind’s eye. Guiding them. Fixing what was broken. The Thread of Life spun between them. Strengthening the Clone’s connection to the Living Force.
A sudden thud against their chest broke their meditation. The Temple Guard latched onto that thread, trying to keep it alive even as they stumbled back.
Coruscant Guards in their white armor and red stripes shoved between the Temple Guard and the wounded Trooper.
Feeling unusually hollow, the Temple Guard retreated to a wall to watch. The Medic quickly bandaged Trooper 87/3001. Unknown to the Clone Troopers, the Temple Guard’s communication was still tuned to their frequency. They heard everything.
**3
“Look at this karking mess! Did the Jedi even do anything?”
“Half the unit is here. And this one is barely clinging to life!” The Medic prepared several hemostatic bandages and three vials of injectable bacta. “Oars and Padlock, you’ll need to hold him down. This will hurt and get very bloody real fast.” Two Troopers knelt on either side of CT 87/3001. The Medic injected a vial before ripping the fractured chest piece off.
Blood oozed rather than spurt rivers. The bacta had slowed the arterial bleed.
“Lot of help that one is,” Oars grumbled, putting all his weight on CT 87/3001’s shoulders to keep the panicking clone still. “Easy Oh-one. You’re alright. Inatta is fixing you up.”
CT 87/3001 moaned as the pain caught up with him. “The canon…”
“Destroyed. You’re the only one left.” Oars tried to sound reassuring. He doubted it worked with how agitated CT 87/3001 was.
The Medic placed both hands on the large hemostatic square on the wounded clone’s chest. “Hold still, Oh-one. The bandage hasn’t fully sealed. It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long and I will get you back to the surface. Gears, I need the sedative. No one should have this much energy after a wound like that.”
Padlock grumbled into the private comm. “Think that one did something?”
Unseen eyes flickered to the Temple Guard. “Could have killed them all before we showed up,” Gears passed Inatta the vial of sedative.
Oars shook his head. “Better that they’re useless than a murderer. But with those Jedi, it’s hard to tell.”
Slowly CT 87/3001 stopped fighting and went into a medicated sleep. Inatta pulled back and studied the injured clone. “Captain Gadfly,” Inatta called on the comm. “Are there more who need treatment?”
“Negative,” Gadfly’s response crackled through the distorted connection. “We are taking the surviving criminals to the surface. A squad is organizing the retrieval of the dead. How bad is it there?”
Inatta sighed heavily before answering. “Twenty-six out of twenty-seven are dead. Oh-one is alive but I don’t know if he’ll make it to the surface. And the kriffing Temple Guard is alive.”
“Understood. Get CT 87/3001 to the surface and a bacta tank. I’ll send the squad to sort through the casualties.” Gadfly closed the comm link.
Oars helped lift CT 87/3001 onto the hoverstretcher before he marched over to the Temple Guard. “Alright, Jedi. Can you get them through the fastest route to the surface?” The Temple Guard nodded once. “Oh, wonderful. You’re not karking useless. Padlock, go with Inatta and the Jedi. The rest of you, we’re going to sort out this skragging mess.”
The Temple Guard took the lead, guiding the Clones through the Undercity and to the most direct path to the surface. The denizens of the deep Undercity were shocked to see the Coruscant Guard escorting a wounded Trooper. They made way and whispered about the raids against the crime syndicate.
While in the long turbolift ride, the Temple Guard had to control themselves from trying to itch their own chest. As if they had a deep healing bruise just under their heart. It was irritating. And extremely distracting.