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Commander Fox technically knew how to drive. This was not the same thing as being legally permitted to drive.
“Why don’t you have a license?” Thire asked from the passenger seat.
Fox stared ahead blankly through the speeder windshield. “Because the Kaminoans did not anticipate a situation in which I would need civilian certification.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“We are military property.”
“Yeah, that didn’t really answer my question either.”
Fox sighed heavily. The speeder lurched sideways as he overcorrected a turn. Thire grabbed the dashboard immediately. “Commander!”
“I saw the pedestrian.”
“You almost ran him over!”
Coruscant traffic screamed around them in twelve layers of organized insanity. Fox drove like he approached everything else in life: aggressively, sleep deprived, and one inconvenience away from violence.
“Alright,” Fox said, gripping the controls tightly. “Your turn.”
Thire stared at him. “I have never driven before.”
“Neither have I.”
“You are literally operating the vehicle right now.”
“I meant legally.”
Thire looked deeply concerned. “Why are we learning this ourselves.”
Fox looked offended. “The Guard budget was denied again.”
“So your solution was grand theft auto?”
Fox glanced at him flatly. “It was temporary borrowing.”
“You hotwired it.”
“Allegedly.”
Thire took the controls with the visible reluctance of a man being handed a live thermal detonator. The speeder immediately swerved three lanes left, causing several other drivers to honk their horns violently. One Ithorian shouted something obscene.
Fox pointed ahead calmly. “You are drifting.”
“I AM AWARE.”
The speeder shot through an intersection at highly illegal speed. Thire looked one heartbeat away from spiritual collapse. Fox, on the other hand, had the terrifying composure of a man fully resigned to death.
“Ease off the accelerator.”
“I’m trying!”
“You’re pressing harder.”
“I’M PANICKING!”
A transport droid blared its horn. Thire yelped. Fox grabbed the controls briefly to stop them from colliding with a noodle cart. The noodle vendor shook a fist at them as they shot past.
“This is going poorly,” Thire said tightly.
“This is how learning occurs.”
“We almost killed four people!”
“Acceptable margin.”
“Commander.”
It was beginning to rain as Fox finally managed to guide the speeder toward a quieter upper-level lane where traffic thinned slightly. Thire’s death grip loosened by approximately two percent.
“There,” Fox said. “Better.”
Thire exhaled shakily. “…I think I understand turning now.”
“Excellent.”
The speeder immediately clipped a traffic beacon and sparks exploded behind them.
“…Kriff.”
Fox rubbed both hands down his face. “This never leaves the Guard.”
“Obviously.”
“If Commander Thorn finds out we stole a civilian speeder and destroyed public infrastructure, he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
“We committed three felonies in under twenty minutes.”
Fox looked at him. “Only three?”
Then a black robed figure stepped into the crosswalk ahead, umbrella raised against the rain.
Thire’s eyes widened. “Commander-“
“I see him.”
“You don’t sound alarmed enough.”
“I am choosing calm.”
Then the speeder hydroplaned. Time slowed catastrophically. Palpatine looked up. Fox saw confusion, recognition, and then sudden horror. Thire jerked the controls. Fox grabbed them simultaneously. Which somehow made everything worse.
The speeder fishtailed violently. There was a loud THUNK. Then silence. The speeder rolled another six feet before stopping crookedly against a curb. Fox and Thire sat frozen. Rain pattered softly against the windshield.
Fox turned his head very slowly to look at Thire, who looked back with the expression of a man whose soul had just vacated his body.
“…Did we just hit the Supreme Chancellor.”
Fox stared ahead blankly. “I am refusing to process that information.”
A beat. Then both of them slowly looked out the windshield. Palpatine was extremely dead beneath the front bumper. One arm still sticking out dramatically from under the chassis. The umbrella had survived somehow.
Fox closed his eyes. “Krifffffffff.”
Thire made a tiny strangled noise. “Commander-“
“I know.”
“We killed the Chancellor.”
“I know.”
They sat there in shared horror for a moment, rain pouring around them. Coruscant traffic beginning to slow nearby.
Then Fox suddenly frowned. “…Wait.”
Thire looked at him wildly. “WAIT?!”
Fox pointed slowly toward the body. “Why was he walking without Red Guard escort?”
“What does that matter?!”
“It matters because it’s suspicious.”
“We RAN HIM OVER.”
“Yes but what was he doing.”
Thire stared at him in disbelief. “Commander, are you trying to investigate the man we just pancaked.”
Fox rubbed a hand over his face. “I am trying very hard not to have a mental breakdown.”
Sirens started wailing in the distance. The sound seemed to activate something in Fox, because he sat upright immediately. “Right.”
Thire looked horrified. “Right what?!”
“We need a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Yes.”
“We killed the Supreme Chancellor with a stolen speeder!”
Fox pointed at him. “Allegedly.”
“We hit him at a hundred miles per hour!”
Fox looked deeply offended. “It was seventy-five.”
The sirens got closer. Fox looked down at the body one last time. Rainwater pooled red beneath them. The most powerful man in the galaxy had just died because two clones stole a speeder for driving lessons.
“…You know,” Fox said slowly, looking up to stare out the windshield, “we could just…”
Thire looked at him wildly. “Commander, if you say ‘run,’ I’m jumping into traffic.”
Fox opened the speeder door calmly and stepped out into the rain. “Thire,” he called over his shoulder, “get out of the speeder.”
Thire stared. “What are you doing?!”
Fox shut the door behind him. “We just arrived on scene.”Thire blinked. Fox gestured vaguely toward the pancaked Chancellor. “It appears whoever was driving this speeder bailed out. A tragedy truly.” He stared at Thire through the rain.
Thire’s jaw dropped. “You cannot be serious.”
Fox’s expression did not change. “Commander Thire, get out of the speeder.”
Thire got out of the speeder. “Oh my Force.”
“We are members of the Coruscant Guard.”
“That is not a legal defense!”
“It’s worked before.”
Thire looked at him wildly. “What?!”
The sound of the sirens wailing was louder now. Fox immediately shifted posture into Full Professional Authority Mode. It was terrifying to witness in real time.
One second he was an exhausted accidental murderer, and the next second he was Commander of the Coruscant Guard investigating a tragic incident.
Fox opened his comm. “This is Commander Fox. We have a civilian casualty involving an abandoned vehicle on the Senate approach levels. Dispatch emergency response immediately.”
Thire stared at him in open horror. “You hit him with the vehicle.”
Fox covered the comm briefly. “Allegedly.”
“Commander.”
Fox turned back toward him fully. “Thire.”
“No.”
“We are thinking strategically.”
“We just committed a crime.”
“Yes.”
The first responders arrived thirty seconds later. The Coruscant Guard spilled from speeders at full sprint before stopping dead at the sight in front of them. Nobody spoke for a long moment.
One trooper pointed slowly downward. “…Is that the Chancellor?”
Fox looked grim. “Yes.”
The Corrie looked at the speeder. Then at Fox. Then back at the speeder.
Fox spoke first. “We arrived moments ago.” A beat. “The perpetrators fled.”
The Corrie’s head slowly turned toward the Commander. There was another long pause.
“…Understood, sir.”
Thire made a tiny choking sound. Fox crouched beside the body with the solemn professionalism of a man who absolutely had not flattened the Supreme Chancellor ten minutes earlier. Thire knelt next to him. Rain pattered against his shell.
“Hm,” he said thoughtfully.
Thire looked physically ill. “Hm?!”
Fox pointed at the tire marks. “Interesting impact trajectory.”
“You made the impact trajectory!” Thire hissed.
Fox ignored him and stood, dusting off his hands. Thire rose too.
Shriek approached cautiously. “Commander, our caller reported the speeder did not stop before impact.”
Fox nodded gravely. “Cowardly behavior.” Thire looked ready to pass out.
Shriek hesitated. “…Should we begin pursuit?”
Fox looked thoughtfully toward the distant traffic lanes. Then sighed. “No.”
“Sir?”
“Realistically, the suspects are long gone by now,” Fox said calmly.
Thire stared at him in disbelief. The absolute audacity this man had was mind boggling. Stitch knelt beside Palpatine’s body briefly. Then slowly looked up. “…He’s dead.”
Fox lowered his head respectfully. “A terrible loss for the Republic.”
Lightning flashed overhead. Thire genuinely considered throwing himself off the platform. More corries flooded the scene rapidly now. Shock spread outward through the forming crowd in waves as word traveled. The Chancellor was dead. He’d been hit by a speeder.
One of the newer troopers stepped closer to Thire quietly. “…Commander.”
Thire looked numb. “Yes.”
The Corrie lowered his voice. “…Did Commander Fox hit the Chancellor with a speeder?”
Thire opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Fox looked up immediately from across the scene. Even through his bucket, the threat was palpable.
Thire folded instantly. “Nope.”
The Corrie nodded immediately. “Understood.”
Fox returned to examining absolutely nothing with immense authority.
“This is insane,” Thire whispered finally, moving beside him.
Fox nodded once. “Correct.”
“We cannot cover up vehicular manslaughter.”
Fox looked at him calmly. “Not with that attitude.”
“Commander.”
Fox gestured subtly toward the gathering Senate security forces. “Think tactically, Thire.”
“You killed the head of state!”
“And if we are not careful, someone will ask unpleasant questions.”
Thire stared at him. “You are terrifying.”
“I’ve been told that.”
“You are not reacting normally to this.”
Fox finally paused. The rain rolled off the sharp angles of his shell, and, for one brief second, genuine exhaustion flickered through him.
“Thire,” he said quietly, “I have slept six collective hours this week, there are three assassination attempts every other day on Coruscant, the Senate is held together with desperation and bribery, and Chancellor Palpatine once made me stand outside a meeting room for four hours because he ‘liked the aesthetic.’”A beat. “I genuinely do not have the emotional energy for guilt right now.”
Thire stared at him. Then, against all reason, laughed. Just one broken, hysterical bark.
Fox looked mildly offended. “This is not funny.”
“We killed the Chancellor with a stolen speeder during driving lessons.”
“When you say it aloud, it sounds irresponsible.”
Suddenly another Corrie ran up. “Commander Fox!”
Fox turned smoothly. “Yes?”
“The Senate is asking who’s taking command of emergency response operations.”
Fox looked around the chaos and then at the dead Chancellor under the vehicle.
Then he sighed heavily. “…Probably me.”
And that was how Commander Fox became Chancellor Fox.
Later, Fox stood alone in the Chancellor’s office at sunset staring at the city skyline, above the same streets where Palpatine had died under extremely embarrassing circumstances.
The doors slid open behind him. Thire entered carefully. “…How‘s it going, sir?”
Fox stared out at Coruscant. There was a long silence.
“…Do you think it’s too late to desert now?”
“Probably, Commander.”
“Kriff.”