wixiany

He’d never seen it before and was completely over it.

Fox stood behind the console in HQ, gloved fingers poised above the interface. The single window at the end of the room framed a strange sight, the upper levels of Coruscant, usually grey and shining, were now muted by thick, white snow. It clung to ledges and railings, to every surface, soft, wet and heavy and completely inconvenient.

No one had seen this much snow on Coruscant in years. The official reason was a malfunction in one of the upper-level weather regulation units. Temporary, supposedly. But Fox was starting to think someone had deliberately reprogrammed it to ‘festive.’

He didn’t look up when the door opened.

“You’re early,” Fox muttered. “Or late. I can’t tell anymore.”

“Same difference this week,” Thorn said, stepping in. He carried two steaming mugs of caf in one hand. “You been here all night?”

Fox didn’t answer. Thorn handed over one of the mugs without comment. It was hot and strong, that’s all that mattered.

“Still snowing,” Thorn said after a long beat, glancing out the window like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “This planet wasn’t built for snow.”

“No kidding. Senate plaza had to be cleared by hand.” Fox set his mug on the edge of the console. “Apparently an elderly senator slipped near the monument steps. Fractured her hip.”

Thorn winced. “She okay?”

“She was still yelling at Thire when the medics took her. So, I’d assume so.” Fox tapped a control pad, flicking through incident reports. “We’ve got speeder collisions stacking up, three minor fires from faulty heating units that we had to reroute to Coruscant Fire, don’t ask me why,, two brawls tied to holiday parties involving Senate personnel, and a charity gala last night that resulted in one senator crashing his speeder after a drunk driving incident. Of course the Guard must be wrong on the cause of the crash.” Fox let out a sigh

Thorn leaned against the edge of the console, blowing on his caf. “So… Life Day.”

Fox grunted.

“Bit much?”

Fox gave him a look. “I’ll be happy when it’s over and the Senate is in recess. Nothing but music and decorations and the like. And now this.” He gestured vaguely at the window. “Tell me it’s not a coordinated attack.”

Thorn chuckled. “You think someone programmed the snow to match the Life Day ads?”

Fox shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the dumbest op I’ve seen run out of the Senate.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “If I see another dancing Wookiee advert I’ll have all screens removed from the barracks.”

“Come on,” Thorn said. “It’s not all bad. I mean, if you ignore the corporate saturation and the drunk senators. Some of the traditions aren’t terrible.” He raised a brow. “Food, drinks, lights. Decorations. That kind of thing.”

Fox gave him a flat look. “Ration paste and protein cubes under some strung up lights?”

Thorn sipped his caf. “You could at least try.”

“I am trying. I’m trying to keep us from being buried.”

Thorn set his mug down beside Fox’s. “Senator sent us a gift box yesterday.”

Fox didn’t look up. “I heard.”

“Expired fruitcake,” Thorn said. “Stamped three years ago. We had to toss the whole thing.”

“Not shocked.

“It’s our first one,” Thorn said, quietly. “Life Day, I mean.”

Fox didn’t respond right away. His eyes tracked a new alert flashing in the corner of the screen.

“It’s strange,” Thorn continued, “but… I don’t know. Doesn’t have to be bad.”

Fox exhaled slowly. “We’re not civilians. We don’t get leave. We don’t get bonuses or hot drinks or knitted scarves. We get day shifts, night shifts, and boxes of expired things from people who couldn’t pick us out of a line-up and consider it their tax write off.”

He jabbed a finger toward a growing stack of datapad. “You want to see Life Day? Here it is. Crashed speeders, fires, injuries, and one drunken senator who tried to kiss a trooper during a press photo op.”

Thorn blinked. “Which one?”

Fox flashed him an irritated look and ignored the question.

Another alert chimed.

Fox stared at the screen, jaw tightening.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.

#^#^#^#^#^

The Chancellor’s office was warm, too warm really. The polished floor, the towering windows, everything gleamed.

Not a single decoration or music to be found.

Fox stood at parade rest, boots clean despite the slush he’d walked through to get here. His back ached. He hadn’t slept properly in thirty hours.

Palpatine sat behind his desk, hands folded neatly.

“Commander Fox,” Palpatine said smoothly. “I trust your men are managing despite the weather?”

“We are, sir,” Fox replied. “Additional support requests have been in effect across several levels due to the disruptions. Emergency response times are delayed. We are doing what we can.”

Palpatine gave a hum. “I’ve seen the incident summaries. Tell me, these injury reports, ten troopers, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Mostly cold weather related.”

“Cold weather?” Palpatine raised one pale brow. “Your armor is thermo-regulated, is it not?”

“It is,” Fox said evenly.

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t mention how one of the shinies had slipped on an iced-over landing pad and fractured a wrist. How two more had to be treated for the early stages of exposure after being posted outside the Senate complex without proper gear overnight. That another had skidded trying to redirect a careening speeder and had nearly been crushed.

Palpatine didn’t comment, didn’t wish the Troopers well. He didn’t ask for details.

Fox stayed silent.

Palpatine set the datapad down. “I’m told one of our more senior Senators suffered an unfortunate fall?”

“Yes, sir. Senator Mallern. She slipped on the stairs outside the Senate rotunda this morning. Snow hadn’t been cleared yet.”

Palpatine made a small, sympathetic sound. “Unfortunate.”

“Medical services were delayed. The Guard remained with her. They performed an initial assessment and stabilized the injury. She was transferred to a Med Facility. Hip fracture. She’ll be in recovery through the holiday.”

“I see,” Palpatine said lightly. “And what has been done to address the issue?”

“My men cleared the area. It's been taken care of.”

“Very good.” Palpatine nodded, leaning back in his chair with that same unreadable smile. “Your vigilance never wavers, Commander. It’s thanks to men like you that the Senate may continue its business uninterrupted.”

Fox’s hands tightened behind his back. “Yes, sir.”

“It cannot be overstated,” Palpatine continued, “how essential your men are to the functioning of the Republic. Especially at this time of year. It will allow a great many to be able to spend the holiday with their families.”

There was a long pause.

Fox gave a stiff nod. “Understood, sir.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Palpatine smiled again, as if that was the end of it. “You’re dismissed, Commander.”

Fox turned on his heel and walked out without a word.

######

Headquarters was louder than usual when Fox returned.

Not in the way of shouting or alarms. Just voices and laughing. It took him a moment to find the source. Off-duty troopers gathered in small groups in one of the rec rooms. Technically they were off duty but told to stay close and ready on standby given all that was going on. They’d sprawled across benches and the floor. Most were in half kit. Fox didn’t have it in him to enforce any sort of rule today.

A screen was playing something loud and obnoxiously cheerful, a seemingly endless loop of Life Day ads. Animated families in matching sweaters clustered around fireplaces. And food. So much food.

One of the shinies, face still round with youth, tilted his head. “You think that food’s real?”

“They can’t possibly have so many different kinds,” another said, skeptically. “That bread looks fake.”

“Bet it’s real,” a third added. “Senators get all that stuff. The fancy meals. They probably eat like that every night.”

“They don’t even cook it themselves. They’ve got house droids.”

“Droids can cook?”

“Yeah. And serve it, too.”

“Day I let a clanker cook for me is the day you can write me off lads,” That one earned a round of raucous laughter.

Thorn was leaned casually against the door with a half-empty cup of caf in one hand. His eyes were on the holoscreen. He made a face.

“If I hear that song again,” he muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

It got a few quiet snorts. Fox could empathize. That particular song had been everywhere. In every kriffing office and elevator.

Fox watched from the hall, hovering at the periphery.

Thorn noticed him as he finally moved, heading toward the main office and caught up without a word.

Fox stripped off his gloves and set them on the side table, flexing cold fingers. Thorn busied himself topping off his caf, and handing Fox a fresh mug.

“You looked like you needed it.”

Fox accepted it, holding it for a moment to warm his fingers.

The office still colder than it should have been despite maintenance claiming the heating unit was functioning within acceptable parameters. Fox suspected it’d been turned to minimum to save costs.

“How was it?” Thorn asked eventually.

Fox took a long sip. “Standard. Minor injuries questioned. Emphasis on how much our presence supports is welcome, if only so that everyone else gets time off.”

Thorn made a low sound in his throat. “He say that?”

“Not in those words.” Fox paused. “But yes.”

Thorn sank into the chair opposite. “Snow’s still coming down. You think they’re going to bother fixing it at all?”

“No.”

Another silence.

Thorn tapped a finger against the side of his mug. “Some of the troopers’ve been watching those ads between shifts.”

“I saw.”

“They’re curious. First time they’ve seen a holiday from the outside. Some of ‘em were asking if decorations were regulation.”

Fox raised a brow. “They’re not.”

“I know.” Thorn shrugged. “Still. Might be good for morale. Let ‘em make a few. Nothing too over the top. String lights. Flimsi stars or something. I can look up some stuff.”

Fox leaned back, eyes closed for a moment. Then opened them again.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with duty rosters.”

Thorn nodded. “Understood.”

Fox added, “And for kriff’s sake, if I hear that song again....”

That got a real grin out of Thorn.

“I’ll let them know.”

#^#^#^#^#

The Senate rotunda was winding down for recess.

Fox’s boots echoed across the polished floors. The usual swarm of aides and attachés had thinned. The halls and offices still full of the Life Day decor.

Thire and another trooper were at the main entrance.

“Building’s nearly empty, Commander,” Thire said as Fox approached. “Not many left in the building. Chancellor’s already left. No incidents since the morning’s fall.”

Fox nodded. “Good. Let me know if that changes.”

He made his way along the upper corridor. A handful of senators still lingered in conference rooms, but most were already off-world or headed back to their penthouses or vacation homes or the like.

He was just about to move on when a figure stepped out from a side corridor, robed, composed, speaking quietly to an aide before dismissing them. Senator Bail Organa. His expression shifted when he spotted Fox.

The senator paused, offered a polite nod and a smile.

“Commander Fox.”

Fox straightened instinctively. “Senator.”

Bail stepped closer, hands clasped lightly behind his back. “Still working?”

Fox gave a short nod. “Always.”

Bail glanced down the corridor, then back at him. “I hope your men have something planned for Life Day. Something to look forward to.”

“We don’t get time off, sir. But we’re provided for.” Fox said after a moment of trying to get a read on the Senator. He always came across calm and composed and almost friendly. Made an effort to learn their names and succeeded most of the time.

A slight crease formed between Bail’s brows. “Surely not just the usual right?” he stopped himself. “I thought the Guard at least received a proper meal.”

Fox met his gaze evenly, through his visor. “We’re clones.”

Bail inclined his head. “Right.”

His tone was measured but he clenched his jaw before exhaling and shaking his head.

“I won’t keep you, Commander,” he said after a breath. “I’ll be out of here shortly. I have a couple more things to take care of in my office and then I’ll be gone as well. I’ll be sure to check out with Thire.”

Fox nodded. “Senator.”

At least he followed protocol.

Organa moved down the corridor, back in the direction of his office. He didn’t look back.

Fox stood there a moment trying to figure out just what the kriff that all had been before moving on.

#^#^#^#^#^#

Fox made it back to HQ some time later.

He needed to warm up, get to the reports waiting on his desk. Maybe, if he was lucky, five minutes to sit down before another emergency comm came through.

Instead, he stopped short just inside the main corridor, blinking as he removed his bucket.

The place was… glowing.

Glow rods of various colors ran the length of the ceiling supports, zip-tied in place at uneven intervals. Light were strung up.

He made his way into the rec room and it was busy as he expected it to be.

Paper cutouts hung from the rafters, some bearing the Guard insignia or various squad designations or the like, others painted with stylized stars, snowflakes, or other Life Day characters no doubt picked up from the ads. A few pinup girls had made it into the mix, tasteful by barracks standards at least.

What surprised him most was the makeshift “tree” built from a pyramid of supply crates, each one slightly smaller than the one underneath it. The top crate had a bent glowstick sticking out of it and it was strung up with lights and garland and gaudy colored decorations. It was ridiculous. And strangely… impressive.

Thorn was in the middle of it all, hanging up another one of the paper stars.

“Before you say anything,” he said, catching Fox’s eye, “they checked every light for shorts. I personally tested the whole set in the hall. Nothing caught fire.”

Fox’s eyes flicked from the lights to the crate tree and back.

“Paper’s all been written off, sitting in storage for months,” Thorn went on. “No shift coverage was missed. The glow rods expire next month anyway.”

Fox raised a brow.

“And the tree,” Thorn added, nodding toward it, “was my idea.”

The shinies working on the garlands paused when they noticed him. One straightened a little too fast. Another instinctively tried to salute with his hands full before Fox waved them down.

“It looks good,” he said, voice even but just a touch softer. “Keep up the good work.”

The nearest trooper blinked at him like he hadn’t expected that response, and the room thawed, smiles all around. Pride. “Yes, sir.”

Thorn grinned. “See boys? Told you he wouldn’t hate it.”

Fox smiled as he turned away moving toward the hallway and leaving them to it.

He grabbed a cup of caf and made his way back to his office and dropped heavily into the chair behind his desk. Datapads were stacked across the surface, shift rotations, requisitions. Never ending. The holo unit on his desk blinked twice signalling an incoming call and Fox accepted. It blinked in and out before stabilizing.

His twin’s image flickered into view as the holo stabilized. They tried to make an effort to talk when they could. As time went on, it was less and less.

Wolffe was bundled in heavy cold-weather gear.

“Where the hell are you?” Fox asked, brow raised.

“Khorm,” Wolffe grinned. “Colder than a Kaminoan’s heart.”

Fox took a long sip from his mug. “I’d trade my left nut for that gear right now.”

Wolffe snorted. “What, Coruscant finally freeze over?”

“Pretty much.” Fox leaned back. “Weather control system’s glitched. We’ve got snow in the Senate plaza, iced-over walkways, cold weather injuries. Civilian speeder skidded straight into a monument.”

Wolffe’s expression soured. “And they haven’t issued you cold gear?”

Fox shrugged. “We’ve got weather control, remember? Official stance is, ‘doesn’t happen here.’ If I file the request, it’ll bounce around, and sit in a supply crate until the end of time.”

Wolffe grunted. “Think they rigged it for the holiday? If that’s the case, same thing’ll happen next year, might as well get to requisitioning it and be ready.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Fox’s voice was dry. “Might be my Life Day miracle.”

“It’s not that bad, maybe not as good looking as regular plates…”

Fox snorted, “If they let you, you’d be wrapped in a fur cloak like an Outer Rim noble”

Wolffe’s eyes gleamed at that, “Think they’d let me requisition one?”

Fox shrugged, “Knowing your General? Sure.” Fox took a sip of caf.

“You holding it together over there?” Fox asked after a moment.

“Barely. The natborn in charge of this op thinks he’s smarter than command. Keeps trying to rewrite our protocols without telling anyone.” Wolffe rolled his eyes. “I’m tempted to tell him he’s going to get someone killed, or you know, forget about him when we move out.”

“That’ll go over well I’m sure.”

“I’m cold,” Wolffe said. “My diplomacy has limits.”

Fox sighed. “How long are you stuck there?”

“Another week, maybe less. Depends. I’d almost prefer a firefight to all this osik. Some real action.”

Fox let the edge of his mouth twitch upward. “You always say that.”

“It’s always true.”

The feed flickered for a second, signal strain. Fox’s comm went off.

“Glad you’re still upright.”

Fox looked at him, steady. “You too.”

Wolffe nodded once. “Alright. I need to thaw out before patrol. Stay alive.”

“You too.” Fox agreed

The feed cut and Fox answered his comm.

Thire’s voice came through, calm but slightly puzzled from the sound of it.

“Commander? You’ll want to come to the front.”

Fox sighed. “Now?”

“Now.”

He set the stylus down and pushed himself out of the chair, joints aching more than he cared to admit. He really would give almost anything for that cold weather gear, just to feel warm again. The hallway lights flickered overhead as he made his way to the front entry. Paper stars twisted above him as Fox passed. It really didn’t look half bad.

The scent hit him before he turned the corner. Food. Real food.

At the front entrance, Thire stood beside a uniformed civilian, someone from a delivery service, holding a datapad and looking faintly nervous.

Behind them, sealed containers sat on two hovercarts. Thermal-sealed. Marked with the name of a restaurant Fox vaguely recognized from the Senate district, upper-tier, nothing clone-accessible.

Fox stopped a pace away.

“Commander,” Thire said. “They said it’s for us.”

The delivery man cleared his throat and held up the datapad. “We have an order here, meal service.”

Fox’s eyes narrowed. “Who authorized that?”

The man checked the confirmation slip. “Courtesy of Senator Bail Organa. With thanks.”

He glanced at Thire, who gave the barest of shrugs, completely puzzled.

Fox stepped forward, pressed his thumb to the datapad, and signed off. If it had been from any number of other Senators he would have turned it down.

“Get it to the mess,” he said to Thire. “Spread the word.”

Thire nodded and something in his face looked…relieved? Excited maybe. The smell only got stronger as the containers were moved further inside, rich, unmistakable. Troopers were already starting to emerge from side rooms, drawn by curiosity, then by disbelief.

Fox lingered in the entryway for a moment after they’d gone.

They didn’t usually get this sort of thing without strings. Not without an angle.

It could’ve been a publicity stunt. A way for Organa to feel better about their hallway conversation. Or maybe it was sincere. Fox didn’t know. The fact that he hadn’t appeared himself and made this into a press release made him think it was more the latter.

The fact was, they didn’t get to many nice things and the men deserved it. He’d deal with the fallout later, if there was any.

#^#^#^##^#

The room had filled fast.

Tables had been pulled together. Troopers sat elbow to elbow, plates in hand. The smell alone had changed the air, warmed it.

Fox sat with Thorn, Thire, and Stone near the edge of the room, a bit further back from the others. He had a warm cup of caf in hand.

Someone had rigged a holoprojector on a crate. The display flickered with an animated Life Day special played in jittery resolution. Some kind of musical number with a bunch of Wookies. The men were howling.

Fox let it wash over him. His stomach was full. The food had been fantastic. His men were safe.

Thorn shifted beside him, sipping his own caf. “Not bad for a first Life Day, eh?”

Fox didn’t answer right away. His eyes followed a group of troopers grabbing seconds, one of them trying to smuggle an extra roll into a belt pouch for later.

Finally, he nodded. “Not bad.”

Thire leaned back and let out a low chuckle. “Glowing praise.”

Fox didn’t rise to the commentary. The smallest edge of a smile pulled at his mouth.

For a little while longer, he didn’t move, he sat, caf in hand, as snow fell silently outside the windows and his men laughed loud enough to drown out the war.