Chapter Text
“Alright troopers, listen up,” Fox begins. He, along with the leaders of various squads, stand around the circular table in the briefing room. “In typical Corrie Guard fashion, we have a busy day ahead of us. I’ll be indisposed for the majority of the day escorting shiny senators around the hall. If anyone has an emergency please contact Commander Thire. Commander Thorn, you and Alpha squadron will need to be in the general assembly hall at 0800. They will be having debates regarding the refugee legislation. Senate Guard expects things to get heated. Commander Stone, you and Delta squad are on prison duty. There are multiple prisoner transfers. Check the schedule on the system drive. Ask if you have any questions. Lieutenant Puck I need patrols in sectors I-22 through 43; there have been multiple reports of increased spice trafficking through there. Assemble as many men as you think you will need to get that done. Are there any questions?”
“No, sir!” Everyone shouts.
“Dismissed.”
The group of men turn on their heels and exit. In the brief moment of silence before the shit storm of another day as the Commander of Coruscant Guard commences, Fox massages his temples and takes a deep breath. He is going to need some caf and a venator’s load of patience to get through today. There is nothing worse than personally escorting senators around the senate hall, especially new senators.
Every senator that Fox has ever personally met has been nothing but a complete and utter asshole, and that is putting it mildly. They talk to him like he is dirt beneath their fancy designer shoes and while he has gotten very, very good at not physically reacting, the commonplace of their maltreatment doesn’t raise his ire any less. Every time someone spits on him, it pisses him off just as much as the first time. Every time someone yells at his shinies, he wants to throttle them just as bad as if it were the first time.
But, despite his daily abuse, new senators are the worst. They think that just because they got elected, they deserve to have the world presented to them on a gold fucking platter. The worst part, Fox thinks, is that their insults aren’t even original. If someone were actually able to come up with an insult creative enough that he has never heard of before, he could maybe set aside his anger for a hot second to give them a brief kudos. If he couldn’t make himself find humor in it, then senators would be getting knee-capped left and right. There is only so much to a sleep deprived, caf-and-spite fueled clone’s temper. So far, the best insult has been ‘red-painted dildo’ and he almost laughed. Almost.
Today could stand a chance of being better if he were able to escort them in a large group. Like yanking off a bacta patch, he could get all the insults - and borderline physical abuse at times - out of the way. But no. Each senator who needs a tour is arriving at different times; so today will consist of him getting belittled on multiple occasions instead of all at once as well as repeating himself endlessly to people who just won’t listen .
He needs a raise.
Oh wait.
He knocks back the rest of his caf in one hefty swallow and slips his helmet on. Today is about to be a long fucking day.
~
Fox stands on the platform as the ship of senator number one lands. Settling into a formal parade rest, he quickly does a mental flip through the senator’s file. He had spent all of last night creating and reviewing these files. Char Bibbeck is from Colunda Prime and was elected to represent the Colunda Sector. He’s known for having populist political beliefs that aided in him getting elected despite his gambling scandal on Colunda, where he had lost almost a million taxpayer credits betting on eopie races. The senator measures just a little taller than the clones and features icy white hair and crisp blue eyes.
As the ramp lowers, Fox gives his head a small shake, readying himself to welcome the senator. Bibbeck saunters down the ramp and up to Fox. He’s wearing black robes with a fancy, crystal blue cravat tucked under his collar. Even from the distance between them Fox can see the several silver rings adorning his fingers and the shine of his genuine leather boots.
“Welcome to Coruscant, Senator Bibbeck,” Fox snaps to picture perfect attention. Heels together, shoulders back, chin up.
The senator looks past him and around. “Where is my grand welcome to the senate?”
“Sir?”
“Am I not to be welcomed by the Chancellor himself?”
“There is a dinner with the Chancellor at 1900 this evening, sir.”
Bibbeck clucks his tongue. “I cannot believe this disrespect. Sending a clone to greet me as if I am nothing less than a secretary. I am the Senator of the Colunda system. This is unacceptable.”
Fox grits his teeth and rolls his eyes. “My apologies, sir,” Fox states dryly before he gets down to business. “I will be leading you on a tour of the Senate Hall, at the end of the tour I will escort you to your personal chambers.”
The senator rolls his eyes. “And what do I have to learn from a clone ? You only know how to fire a blaster and apparently speak in a positively uncivilized accent. Who taught you basic? You sound like you were raised in a backwater skughole.”
Fox sucks in a deep breath. “My apologies, sir. I believe you are on a very tight schedule, so if I may begin the tour.”
“What is your number? What commander do I need to speak to about your attitude?”
The edges of Fox’s vision tinge in red as he struggles to keep his voice steady. “My number is CC-1010 and I am the head commander of the Coruscant Guard, sir. If you have an issue with how I run things, you can take it up with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine himself.”
With a huff, Bibbeck shoves Fox out of his way and snarls, “Fine. Let's get this over with, clone.”
~
Fox stands at the landing platform, yet again, awaiting the third senator of the day that needs a tour - Senator Riyo Chuchi of Pantora. Recently elected just after her graduation from a prestigious university, Senator Chuchi has been fairly quiet about her ideals. She doesn’t give inflammatory speeches like Senator Organa and Amidala, but instead seems to keep everything close to the chest. Overall, there is nothing terribly remarkable about her. She has no criminal record, no scandals, not even so much as a parking ticket on her record. Fox allows himself a small glimmer of hope; maybe, finally , he will have a senator in his charge that isn’t a complete pain in the ass.
The ramp lowers and off steps a very petite - much shorter than Fox had expected, even with her height recorded in her file - blue, senator. Unlike the other senators he has greeted today, the Pantoran Senator is not dressed lavishly in robes and fine jewelry. She wears a golden headpiece - probably expensive, but possibly something of cultural relevance - and a modest burgundy suit jacket and skirt. Her shoes are black flats, but just from a quick glance he can see that they are scuffed all to hell - if he had to guess they are probably a favorite or have sentimental value.
Snapping effortlessly to attention, he greets, “Welcome to Coruscant, Senator Chuchi.”
“Thank you… I’m sorry, what is your name?” Her voice is smooth and soft. She speaks tentatively, like she is putting purpose behind each of her words.
“CC-1010, ma’am, I am the Commander of the Coruscant Guard here to escort you on a tour of the Senate Hall, brief you on safety procedures, and show you to your official chambers, ma’am.”
“Very well. I look forward to learning from your expertise.”
His expertise?
What?
Trying not to get too caught up in her words - senators tend to have silver tongues like that - he performs a flawless about-face and begins escorting her off the landing pad and into the Senate Hall.
They enter the main chamber, where large marble pillars hold up the high, domed ceiling. “This is the main chamber,” he begins. “You can access any of the lifts from here. Several councils and committees meet in the rooms that are branched from the halls on your left and right.” He turns, walking backwards and motions to the directions of the committee chambers. She, however, is staring with her jaw slightly agape at the fine detailing on the ceiling and pillars. Fox remembers the first time he walked through these halls, his face didn’t look unlike hers in this moment.
He flips back around and continues walking down one of the hallways that looks, well, less grand than the entrance. The walls are a simple egg-shell color and the carpet a drab brown. “This leads into the rotunda’s ground floor,” he explains. “You can also take any of these lifts to the floor with your Senatorial Pod, which is T-322. I’ll take you there now, so that you know where to go when the general assembly meets.” He presses the button on the lift and she looks around.
“This building is massive.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he acknowledges.
“Running security for this place must be nearly impossible.”
“We have help from the Senate Guard, ma’am.”
If by help he means migraine-inducing incompetence, then yes. He has plenty of help from the useless sacks called Senate Guards.
She falls silent again as they step into the lift, which was thankfully unoccupied, and Fox presses the button to lead them to her the floor where her pod is located.
“So how long have you been the Commander of the Guard?” She asks.
“Since the battle of Geonosis, ma’am,” he answers.
She nods slowly, her headpiece chiming delicately. “Do you like it?”
His mind stops. “What?”
She turns to look up at him, her golden eyes fixing on the visor on his helmet. For a dizzying second, he thinks she can actually see his face, that his helmet has suddenly floated off into the ether. “Do you like serving here on Coruscant?”
No, he doesn’t. He feels like he is sitting around being about as useful as a screen door on a space shuttle, while his brothers fearlessly lead battalions. He files paperwork and listens to senators whine about not having material goods while his brothers bleed for them - die for them. The lie flows effortlessly from his lips, “Yes ma’am, it is an honor to serve the Republic.”
Like he even has a choice.
Maybe he is just as silver-tongued as the senators.
A soft smile curves her lilac lips. “Yes, I feel the same. I just… hope I can do some good in this position.”
Thankfully, the lift comes to a halt and Fox steps out, Senator Chuchi hot on his heels. “Here is the floor you will need, if you notice, there are signs pointing to where you need to go.”
The sign is simple, numbers and arrows denoting which pods are where. Her pod happens to be towards the left. He steps out onto the pod and shows her the Rotunda, also referred to as the General Assembly Hall. She gawks at the hundreds and hundreds of pods before she speaks.
“Traditionally, how many people sit in a pod at a time?”
“Three. However, some senators choose to sit by themselves, as well, ma’am.”
With a nod, she lets him lead her back from whence they came. Then, he takes her through a maze of hallways with which he is far, far too acquainted. As the commander, he has memorized every hall, every ventilation shaft of this building. He can name every senator’s office chambers without looking at the name plaques and comes to a halt at the door of her chambers easily. “Here is your office, ma’am.”
She enters the room and grimaces. “I will most certainly have to get some plants,” she comments as she flicks on the lights and takes in the modest provisions of the Republic.
He has no comment for that and instead reaches for a datapad clipped to his belt. “This is for you, Senator. It has all of the Coruscant Guard contact information as well as a map of the Rotunda and Senate District. It is recommended that you stay within the district. At no point should you ever travel to the lower levels. Senators usually have high bounties on them, even if they are newly elected.”
She swallows. “Yes, sir.”
He stiffens.
She… is actually listening ?
“Additionally, if you find that you require any additional furnishing, you can find them in the senatorial catalogue loaded on this datapad,” he unclips another and hands it to her. “Send me the item number and I will add it to the list of senatorial requisitions.”
She nods. “Thank you… I believe I may be in need of some extra chairs.”
“Any questions?” He asks with a stiff nod.
“Are there any other forbidden districts that I should be aware of, Commander?”
He shakes his head, “No, ma’am. Stay in the Senate District and you will be just fine. Regarding your day-to-day safety, you will receive a security briefing for all meetings. Please read them. In each briefing there will be information on emergency exits as well as the names of the troopers on duty.”
“Do you frequently attend senate meetings?” She asks, twisting a small gold bracelet on her wrist.
“As frequently as I can, ma’am.”
“I imagine you're quite busy guarding all of us Senators.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She wrings her hands and sighs.
To him, she looks uncertain as to what to do next, so he offers, “I can show you to your apartment if you’re ready, ma’am.”
“That would be quite lovely.”
~
Fox stands outside of her apartment door and hands her the key card. “You can program it to take a code as well. If you need any assistance, call the Coruscant Guard hotline and we will have a security technician out to help you.”
Accepting the card from him, she nods once before sliding it to reveal the luxurious apartment. The floor is a neat cream marble with dark navy and gold accents. The main sitting room is all he can see from the front door, but there are two long, navy couches and a golden table sitting in the middle between the two. “Wow,” she breathes as she enters.
He lingers by the door, standing at formal parade rest. When she realizes that he isn’t following her in, she turns to face him.
“Is there anything else you require, Senator?” He asks.
Her eyebrows furrow and she worries her bottom lip for a moment before she answers. “No… I think this will be all.” She marches up to him and extends her hand. “It has been a pleasure, Commander.”
He stares at her outstretched hand for a moment, completely flabbergasted by this moment of humility. Tentatively, he accepts. Her hand is small, but she has a firm handshake. “Likewise, Senator.”
She smiles. “I thank you for your thorough tour and explanation of security procedures. I look forward to seeing you again.”
He has no response. Not once in the time that he has been Commander of the Coruscant Guard has he ever, ever been treated with such human decency. He supposes it is because he isn’t human - not to the senators. No, he’s a clone - just a fleshy droid. “A Senate Guard will be here to escort you to your welcoming dinner with Chancellor Palpatine at 1830, ma’am.”
And with a curt nod, he turns on his heel and leaves.
~
At exactly 1830 the chime on her door reverberates through her sparsely decorated apartment. Stuffing another pin in her hair to keep it up and within her headpiece, she rushes to the door. She presses the button to open it and is met with an indigo-armored man. She doesn’t think he is a clone. Clones wear only white armor, right? The Commander from earlier had worn white armor with the Coruscant Guard crest painted upon his shoulder plates - this guardsman wears no such symbol.
“Good evening,” she greets.
“Are you ready?” He asks.
She is not pretentious in any way, or at least she doesn’t think she is, but she does notice the lack of ‘ma’am’ at the end of that question. After being escorted around all day by the Clone Commander, she had begun to think her name was ‘ma’am’ he used it so frequently and crisply.
She nods and he turns, not bothering to wait for her. She practically has to run to keep up with his lengthy stride and when they get to the landing pad, he doesn’t even bother opening the door for her. Not that she was expecting that, no. She has two hands and is fully capable of opening her own doors, but she can’t help they way her mind flashes back to the Commander and how he had adjusted his pace and held doors open for her.
They arrive at the Chancellor’s home in less time than she was expecting, or maybe she just hadn’t noticed the passage of time. Coruscant is so alive and she can hardly tear her eyes away from all the twinkling lights. There are just so many people; speeders fly by them and in some she can hear melodies that she has never heard before blaring from their speakers. Coruscant, it seems, is going to be full of new experiences.
The Senate Guard doesn’t wait for her to get out of the speeder either, she bounds after him, trying not to trip in her heels and up to the door. “This is where I leave you. Have a good evening,” he states and quite literally abandons her at the doorstep of the Supreme Chancellor’s home.
She adjusts her fingers around the bottle of the Pantoran wine. Her mother had taught her never to show up to a dinner party empty handed.
Thirty seconds of courage.
She rings the doorbell.
Maybe she shouldn’t have brought the wine. Some may view it as bribery. Just as her heart lurches into her throat at the thought of making a poor first impression to the Supreme Chancellor himself, the door slides open.
“Ah Senator Chuchi! Just on time!” The Chancellor smiles.
“Chancellor,” she returns his smile, stepping into the apartment. “Please accept this gift on behalf of Pantora.”
“Oh, traditional Pantoran wine from the yunchki fruit! How delightful!” As he ushers her into the formal dining room, lavishly decorated in black and crimson, Riyo takes note of the two clone troopers standing in the periphery.
A shudder runs down her spine.
She imagines that she will get used to seeing clones in non-combat settings, but it’s hard. All she has seen is the near all day, every day coverage of the war. She has seen them brutally demolish their opponents and she is uncomfortable with cold-blooded killers sitting so close to her while she dines. She stamps down her fear - after all, they are meant to follow orders and no one is going to order them to shoot her - she takes stock of the room.
The table is long - taking up most of the length of the dining room - and shaped oddly like an eye, coming to a sharp point at each end. Senators from all across the galaxy are gathered around the table and she takes up a seat next to a woman wearing a very clearly expensive gown.
“May I sit here?” Riyo asks.
The woman simply waves her hand, giant gemstone rings flashing in the light, and turns back to the man sitting on her other side.
Tonight is about to be a long night.
~
Back in her apartment, Riyo crashes onto her bed with a sigh. Dinner had been miserable. She can’t even put it into words. She had been too nervous to eat, not that it mattered; the portions were so small she couldn’t see how the dishes could have ever earned the right to be called dinner . She thinks about writing to her mom, but she puts that thought away. It is only her first night on this uncomfortably warm city-planet. She can’t be homesick already.
Yet she longs for the cool, breezy, marshes of her homeworld.
With a sigh, she gets back up. This is no way to behave. Idle hands do nothing for a racing mind. She meanders into her kitchen and looks through all of her cabinets. Fully stocked.
She could make actual dinner.
Or she could make cookies.
Stumbling around the kitchen until she finds everything she needs, she gets to work.
~
Riyo hesitates as she stands outside of the Coruscant Guard office. It's a modest building, a glass door that actually needs to be pushed open with the Republic crest frosted upon it.
Thirty seconds of courage.
Sucking in a deep breath, she charges inward.
Behind a desk with a truly massive switchboard and several computer screens, is a helmetless trooper. Instead, he wears a headset and speaks clearly, “Coruscant Guard Office, how may I direct your call?” He is silent for a beat before he speaks again, “Please hold for one moment while I connect you.” He pulls one cable from the switchboard and moves it to another.
“Can I help you ma’am?” He asks and it takes her a moment to realize he is addressing her.
“Um, yes. I am looking for the commander?”
“Which one?” he asks, his face impassive. She has never seen a clone without his helmet and she is shocked by how young he looks - no more than twenty-two standard years at most.
“I, uh,” she shifts her weight back and forth. “I don’t recall his name.” It was a number, CC-something? “He gave me a tour yesterday of the senatorial facilities.”
“Oh that’s Commander Fox, all the way down the hall, last door on your right,” he instructs, pointing down the hall before returning to his switchboard. “Coruscant Guard Office, how may I direct your call?”
Taking another breath to renew her courage in actually doing this, she squares her shoulders and continues.
But her supposed renewed courage does nothing to ease the feeling of utter stupidity gnawing at the back of her mind.
They’re clones. Are they even capable of feeling gratitude? All she has ever heard is that they are deadly and easily sent into a homicidal state. They had been bred to kill after all. In the cafeteria today, she had heard chatterings from the other senators that the clones don’t even feel sentient emotions. Not knowing any other fellow senators, she had resorted to eating lunch by herself, and ultimately moved to her office to eat in silence as she read the security briefings for her first meetings. They were flawless in every sense of the word. It had made her wonder if the senators in the cafeteria had been right - that the clones really are no different than droids.
Standing outside of the Commander’s office, she forces herself to breathe. It’s just cookies. Just a tin of cookies and a helping of gratitude. He had spent all afternoon showing her the ropes and answering any questions she had. She knocks.
“Come in.” The Commander does not sound nearly as pleasant as he did yesterday. She presses the button and the door whirls open.
“Good afternoon, Commander.” Riyo forces herself to smile. Fear rolls in her stomach once again at being in such a small room with a clone.
His eyes jolt from the datapads piled around him to her and then at the tin. Upon spotting the tin, his eyes narrow. “What can I do for you Senator?” He looks positively terrifying and her first thought is a reminder that they were bred to kill. He has a military haircut, that is to be expected, but his dark eyes are shadowed by equally dark brows making him look a breath away from homicidal.
She swallows. “I wanted to stop by and thank you formally for your kindness yesterday. I baked you traditional Pantoran cookies.” She offers the tin to him.
He stares at it and then her and then back it as if an explosion was imminent. “I was just doing my duty, ma’am.”
Her heart plummets when he doesn’t reach for the tin. “For which I would like to thank you.” She shakes it at him slightly.
Slowly his face softens, the deep crease between his brows lessening. He looks… younger. “Thank you,” he mutters and accepts her gift, taking extra measure to make sure their hands do not brush.
“Feel free to share,” she smiles and this time it feels less forced. He may not have given her a smile of his own, but his face looks significantly less irate.
“Thank you, Senator.”
“You’re welcome, Commander.” She nods in acknowledgement and takes her leave, only letting out the breath she had been holding when she is back in the safety of her speeder.