Star Wars: The Clone War Chronicles/ Chapter 7: A Fox in the Henhouse

19 BBY

Character: Commander Fox

An Imperial transport roared its way through the sky of Coruscant, its rumbling engines startling passersby below to shriek and scramble for cover. Inside, a small unit readied their weapons while testing their coms and helmet lamps. Motionless at the rear of the transport, nearest the ramp door that would deploy this lethal force, stood Commander Fox. He faced away from his men, staring at the door and allowing his thoughts to center themselves. Without his helmet, his men could see the tattoos that ran in a straight line along his neck, perpendicular to his spine. Five small sashes, each resembling a miniature lightsaber.

One for each Jedi he had personally eliminated.

Without turning to face them, he addressed the unit. "Men, listen closely!"

The unit ceased their fidgeting preparations and stood at attention, observing their commander pull his helmet over his head and turn to face them. He scanned the four men before him in their combat armor, weapons at the ready.

"My neck itches. It's ready. I hope all of you are, as well."

"Hoo-rah!" shouted back the unit.

"Good. We've got reliable intel that a Jedi agitator, long on the run, has been cornered in an alleyway near the servants' quarters district in sector Seven. The Jedi has been identified as Houx-Tan, a Twi'lek female at 2 meters tall with distinctive red skin." He tapped a few buttons on his wrist command module. "I've sent you all the information we have thus far. Keep in mind that these Rylothians have heightened muscle groups, allowing for intense close-quarter combat and improved jumping skills. Add to that her augmented abilities with the force, and this promises to be a thrilling hunt."

"Looking forward to a bit of fun, sir!" shouted the trooper third from the left, chuckling a bit afterwards and looking to his comrades for agreement. None turned their heads to meet his eyes, but stared straight ahead at Commander Fox.

The Commander closed the distance between himself and the trooper who had spoken, and lowered his voice. "Did I hear you correctly, Zac? Did you say 'fun'?"

"I misspoke, sir!"

"I certainly hope you did, trooper. The Jedi are agitators; rebel rousers who threaten the order of this galaxy. They are a scourge towards peace and relentless killers of hundreds of our brothers. So if you think I brought you on this trip for 'fun' then you have critically underestimated the severity of this mission."

"Yes, sir!"

Commander Fox leaned back, then spun around and walked back to face the deployment door. With his comms online for the entire unit to hear, he added: "Besides, the fun will be after. He whoever makes the kill shot drinks on me tonight." He cocked his head to the right. "Ready?"

"Hoo-rah!" came again, louder and more enthusiastically than before.

"We're at the LZ. A small skip on you're on" came the news from the pilot, followed immediately by a harsh eclipse of light as the ramp door pulled away from the ship's hull.

"No mercy!" screamed Commander Fox as he leapt down to the street below.

-

After a grueling and uneventful door-to-door sweep that took far too long for any of the unit's patience, Commander Fox walked deliberately into the corner of a well-lit utility room, where he found a cowering Houx-Tan staring down four drawn DC-15 Blaster Rifles.

"Well done, men. I'm left to wonder why none of you have taken the shot, though." He looked around the tactical circle.

"Well, sir," started Zac, eager to make amends. "We got to talking, and you've only got five marks; seems uneven."

"I do prefer balance, yes."

"And we also thought that perhaps if you were take the killshot, you might cover the tab for the unit, seeing as it was a group effort."

"Damnit, Zac!" Fox drew his dual DC-17 pistols, activating each with the butt of the other. "Your diplomacy is exemplary. We may make an officer of you yet."

With a cacophonous crack of explosive ordinance, Houx-Tan fell dead before the elite Jedi Hunting Unit of Coruscant. The men wasted no time in congratulating one another as Fox radioed the gunship for pickup.

"Drinks are on me, boys! But first, a stop at the parlor."

The men shouted their approval. Fox removed his helmet and beamed a proud smile at the troopers before him.

"My neck still itches."