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Chapter Text

Commander Fox was exhausted. A string of armed robberies had him and his men working overtime, and the Chancellor seemed needier than ever. Fox hadn’t had an hour to himself for what felt like weeks. 

So, when he found himself able to leave his office early and head back to the barracks for a hot shower and some sleep, he jumped at the chance. He signed off on a few reports and made his way towards the exit of the Coruscant Guard building. In the lobby, he nodded to Thorn and Stone, who were speaking quietly to one another. Before he could leave, however, his comlink chimed, and he bit back a groan. It was Chancellor Palpatine, requiring assistance that would no doubt prevent Fox from leaving for hours.

“This is Fox,” he said, trying to hide his annoyance. 

“Hello, Commander,” Palpatine’s oily voice came through the comm. “I hope all is well.”

He didn’t give Fox a chance to respond before he continued.

“As you know, the Zillo Beast from Malastare has been transferred to our research facility here on Coruscant. I have received word from one of the scientists that a small protest is taking place at the building. Something about species rights or some such nonsense.” 

The disgust in Palpatine’s voice is clear, and Fox suppresses a groan of frustration. 

Of all days, why now? 

“I will gather some of my men immediately, Sir. Do you have an idea of how many protestors we might expect?” Fox enquires, hoping this “small protest” is actually small. 

“Oh, not many,” Palpatine non-answers. “I have full faith in the ability of you and your men to quell this ridiculous demonstration. The Zillo Beast is just that. A beast, an abomination that may prove itself useful to our war efforts. These so-called “activists” misunderstand the importance of this creature.”

Fox doesn’t truly care about the Zillo Beast one way or another, and he has private doubts that it should have been brought to Coruscant in the first place (Doesn’t the Republic have research facilities on less populous planets?), but it’s really not his place to have an opinion. 

Whatever, Fox thinks. Not my circus, not my Kowakian monkey-lizards. 

“Very well, Sir. It will be done.” 

The comm ends, and Fox heaves a sigh before turning back to Thorn and Stone. 

“Boys, we’ve been called to the research facility to break up a protest. Thorn, grab some extra binders. Stone, call the prison and inform them we may have some prisoners headed their way. Most of the protestors should scatter when we arrive, but we might have to make some arrests if they refuse to disband.”

Thorn and Stone spring into action, and within minutes the Commanders are in a transport speeder to the facility. As they draw closer, Fox can hear the chants of the protestors growing louder. 

“Release the Beast! Release the Beast! Release the Beast!”

It’s just Fox’s luck that the protest is not small. Around 100 individuals are standing on the steps of the facility, holding signs and chanting. The transport lands, and Fox, Thorn, and Stone exit the speeder, making their way up the stairs to the crowd. Upon their approach, a group of protestors flees, but the others continue shouting and waving their signs. 

“Alright, time to wrap it up,” Stone shouts. “You don’t have a protest permit, and this is Republic Property. Disband now, and you can save yourself a trip to the Republic Correctional Facility.” 

Another, albeit larger, handful of demonstrators clear out, leaving only about 25 behind. 

The chanting, though quieter now, continues, and Fox signals his men to advance further up the steps. The remaining protestors are undeterred, clearly more invested in the cause they’re supporting, and don’t seem to care about their impending arrest. 

This time, it’s Fox who addresses the crowd. He pulls a few sets of binders from his belt and waves them towards the group. 

“Who wants to go first? You’ve had a chance to end this, but times up. You all are going on a trip downtown.”

Still, there’s no acknowledgment from the disruptors. Fox nods to the others, and the Commanders begin cuffing them. To his surprise, they meet very little resistance. The demonstrators are compliant, dropping their signs and allowing themselves to be bound without complaint. 

After he cuffs a Rodian male, Fox spots a woman sitting on the steps fumbling with something. He sees a glint of metal, and his hand reaches to his blaster, preparing to stun and disarm her. The woman doesn’t have a blaster, though, but a pair of binders. Before Fox can stop her, she’s affixed herself to the metal handrail. Her face is set into a fierce expression as she looks out at the crowd. 

Fox decides that he’ll come back and remove her after the others have been put into the transport. He leads a group to the speeder, then clears up the scattered signs while Stone and Thorn load up the rest of the detainees.

“Everyone’s ready to go, Commander,” Thorn says, then tilts his head in confusion when he spots the woman on the stairs. 

“Go ahead without me,” Fox says, “Drop them off at RCF, then come back and pick us up. I need to get her out of these binders. 

He watches as Thorn and Stone depart, quickly pulling off and disappearing into the horde of speeders that clutter the Coruscanti skyline. He sighs for what feels like the millionth time today and turns back to the woman. For the first time, he really looks at her. She’s…pretty, with brown skin and round eyes. Her dark, curly hair is pulled back from her face, cascading down her back. Her lips are full and currently pinched into a small frown directed at him. 

“Do you have a key for those, or do I need to cut them off you?” Fox asks, hoping that she’ll cooperate. 

Silence. 

Yet another sigh falls from Fox’s mouth, and he reaches into his utility belt, retrieving a small vibroblade. He kneels beside her and pushes her forward, giving him a clearer view of her bound wrists. Her hands are clenched and shaking just the smallest bit, and he studies the metal cuffs to determine how to proceed. 

“I’m going to cut these off, okay? Don’t move.” 

This close, he can smell the woman's perfume. A warm, sweet scent that Fox can’t help but savor. Shaking off his momentary lapse in concentration, he flips on the vibroblade and brings it down to the binders, pressing against the chain that connects each wrist. 

What the kriff? The vibroblade does nothing, the metal remaining undamaged despite the firm pressure he has applied. He tries again, but still, the chain isn’t affected. 

“What are these?” Fox grits out, his patience hanging by a thread. 

“A beskar-durasteel alloy,” she answers quietly.  

Without responding, Fox stomps down a few steps and activates his comlink, calling Rex. The Captain of the 501st is on Coruscant for a brief shore leave, and Fox knows that he has the ear of his General. He would prefer not to have to contact the Order directly, knowing that it’d just slow things down. If Rex can get his General to stop by quickly, he might have a chance to get a decent night's rest. 

“Rex here,” the Captain answers, and Fox can hear the pounding bass of 79’s in the background. Rex’s night had begun early, it seemed, as the sun had barely set. 

“I need a favor. Can you contact your Jedi for me?” 

There’s a pause before Rex responds, and Fox hears the music in 79’s become muffled, like Rex had stepped outside. 

“What’s this about?” Rex questions, and by the tone in his voice, Fox can practically see the furrow in his brother’s brow.

“I’m at the research facility that’s holding the Zillo Beast, and I have a protester who has attached herself to the steps with beskar cuffs. I need someone with a lightsaber to come over here and cut her out.”

Despite what most believed, beskar isn’t truly impenetrable against lightsabers, only highly resistant. It will take a bit of time, but a Jedi should be able to cut through the cuffs. 

“General Skywalker might be busy,” Rex says with uncertainty, “he has…prior obligations and doesn’t wish to be disturbed this evening.”

“Please, vod,” Fox begs, not caring at this point to maintain his dignity. It’s been a long week. 

“Alright fine,” Rex sighs, “but you owe me.”

Rex hangs up, and Fox makes his way up the steps to the woman. She’s sitting quietly, with her legs crossed. He sits down on the stairs a few feet from her and prays that Skywalker will be quick to arrive. 

As he scans the skyline, he notices a backpack sitting a few steps down from him. 

“That yours?” He asks, gesturing to the bag. 

He receives a nod in reply. 

Retrieving the bag, Fox upzips the main compartment and looks inside. There are a few notebooks, a datapad, and other random clutter, but Fox’s eye is drawn to the small wallet at the bottom. 

He opens the wallet, searching for identification, pulling out 2 small cards. 

The first is a student ID card for the University of Coruscant: College of Biological Sciences. The second is a keycard for a science facility on the UC campus. Fox takes note of the woman’s photos, depicting a smiling face, so unlike her current expression, and her name, Sol T’arja, before replacing the cards and wallet in the bag. He sets it at her feet and reclaims his spot on the steps just a few feet away. 

“Not very smart to bring identification to a protest,” he comments. 

“I have nothing to hide,” the woman— Sol —replies. 

“Won’t you get into trouble with your school for being arrested?” 

Sol huffs a laugh and looks over at him, her eyes shining with mirth. 

“One of the other people you arrested is my thesis advisor. I think I’ll be fine.”

Before he could reply, the whir of an approaching speeder caught his attention. Skywalker parks the speeder at the bottom of the steps and ascends the stairs. 

“Thank you for coming, General Skywalker,” Fox says, “I appreciate you doing this during your time off.”

“It’s no problem, Commander. Now, what’s this about beskar cuffs?” 

Skywalker steps up to Sol, bending down the examine the cuffs. 

“Are these a durasteel blend?” Skywalker inquires, and Sol only nods in reply. 

The Jedi whistles, “These must have cost a pretty penny.” Sol only shrugs and shifts in place. 

“Well,” Skywalker says, “I’m going to cut the connecting chain first, and then I can cut the binders off of your wrists. Don’t move, I don’t want to have to explain to the council how I cut off a civilian’s hand.” 

Sol nods, but otherwise doesn’t reply. Fox searches her expression, expecting her to be fearful or apprehensive at having a lightsaber so close to her; he certainly would be, but her face is calm and collected. She doesn’t even blink when Skywalker shifts her body and switches on his saber, bringing it close to her hands. 

It takes about 30 seconds, but finally, the chain snaps. When the glowing edges of the chain have cooled and hardened, Skywalker allows Sol to bring her hands in front of her. 

Next, he positions her arm flat on the step and slowly lowers the blade of his lightsaber to Sol’s arm. There can’t be more than a centimeter between her skin and the saber, but Sol seems unaffected. 

As he holds the blade to the metal, Skywalker looks at Sol.

“What’s the point in doing this?” He asks. “I mean—why go through all this trouble just to get arrested? It’s not going to change anything.”

Sol contemplates the Jedi’s question, answering after a moment. 

“The point is to spread awareness. An injustice is occurring, and we have a responsibility to call it out. Complacency is dangerous, and if we just lie down and take it when we see inequity, it shows those in power that they can do whatever they want.”

“Do you even know why the Zillo Beast is here?” Skywalker asks.

 As he does, the first cuff is removed, and Fox looks down at Sol’s wrist. It’s thin, and she has small hands with long, elegant fingers. Her skin is reddened slightly from its proximity to the saber’s heat, but she’s otherwise unharmed. Skywalker moves to the other side and repeats the process.

“Yes, I do. I also know that this research could be conducted differently. A way that doesn’t require drugging a living being to oblivion and holding it in captivity, a way that doesn’t endanger the lives of millions of people.”

Skywalker’s expression softens a bit, almost imperceptible, and he nods. 

“For what it’s worth, I understand your intentions, if not your methods. My wi—A friend of mine shares your opinion. I don’t know much about the situation, but I trust that the Republic has honorable intentions. From what I understand, the Zillo Beast could prove to be a very valuable asset to our Forces.” 

Sol scoffs at his reply, but doesn’t say anything back. The second cuff falls, and Fox steps forward. 

He pulls her up to stand and loosely fastens a new set of binders around her wrists. 

Rather than put her arms behind her back, as he assumes she must be sore, he binds her wrists in the front. Skywalker hands Fox the now-broken cuffs, as well as Sol’s backpack. 

“Well, my work here is done. I’ll be seeing you, Commander,” Skywalker says, hastily making his way down the stairs and to his speeder. 

Fox looks down at his comlink and sees that Stone has sent a message. 

Be there in 2.

Fox sighs and leads Sol down the stairs to the edge of the platform, where they wait for Stone. After two minutes that feel like an hour, Stone pulls the speeder up to the platform, and Fox guides Sol into the back. He then takes his seat next to Stone, and they pull off into the thick Coruscanti traffic. 

The ride to the prison takes about 15 minutes, and once he drops her off, Sol will no longer be his problem. Fox is half desperate to get back to base, so he’s not sure what compels him to pull Sol to a stop before they can enter the facility. 

“Listen, you shouldn’t be here too long. There’s a 24-hour holding period, then someone can post bail for you. Do you have someone you can call?”

Sol blinks up at him, then nods. 

“The advocacy group has a bail fund,” she says.

Fox nods and leads her inside, dropping her off with the CO in charge of prisoner intake, aptly named Booker. 

As she’s led down the hallway, Sol looks back at Fox and shoots him a small smile. 

For some reason, despite his exhaustion, Fox stares at the empty hallway far after she’s gone. He finally leaves when Stone sends him a comm threatening to leave if he doesn’t get back to the speeder.  

Chapter Text

Honestly, the prison isn’t as bad as Sol expected. The temporary holding cell is clean, and Sol has the cell all to herself. The booking officer, another clone, was polite, and he even apologized when he had to pat her down during intake. 

All in all, Sol’s been worse off. 

As she lies in the hard bunk, she runs through the events of the day in her head. 

In the morning, Sol had her weekly thesis advisory meeting with Dr Reeven, then she spent a few hours in the lab, working on her newest cell samples. She worked through the morning and early afternoon, then had a quick lunch with Tala. The rest of her afternoon was spent working on her thesis, updating her notes with new research, and planning her next experiments. 

Then, she and Dr Reeven left campus together and made their way to the Republic Science Facility, which was currently holding a Zillo Beast in captivity. 

Sol had never heard of a Zillo Beast until a few days ago when Dr Reeven told her about them. Apparently, he had a connection to one of the facility’s research assistants, who informed him about the creature. According to them, the Zillo Beast was being immobilized with a combination of drugs and stun cannons. Besides the obvious ethical concerns, the presence of a Zillo Beast on a city-planet home to trillions of beings was exceptionally problematic. 

Dr Reeven invited Sol to join him in protesting the creature’s forced captivity, and they set off to the facility after the workday ended. 

What started as a small protest with 20 individuals grew to over 100 within less than an hour. 

When the Corrie Guard arrived, many of the protestors, unsurprisingly, left. Sol, Dr Reeven, and the other members of their advocacy group, however, weren’t planning on leaving. Sometimes getting arrested is the best way to make some noise and draw more attention to the cause.

This was the first time that Sol intended to get arrested at a protest. She and Garo, another protester and a close friend of Sol’s, were planning to cuff themselves to the handrails when the time came. 

When she saw the distinctive red and white armor of the Corrie Guard grow closer, she searched the crowd for Garo, finding him several meters away. Before she could get to him, another mass of bodies fled the protest as a trooper threatened to begin making arrests. Sol lost sight of Garo and decided to go ahead and cuff herself, hoping he’d make it back to her. 

As she fiddled with the binders, she spotted him being arrested, and he met her gaze with an apologetic glance. 

Well, looks like it’s just me. 

Two troopers led the detainees off to a transport speeder, and the one remaining turned to her. His armor was mostly white and accented with crimson details, and Sol felt a pang of unease in her chest. Here she was, immobilized and all alone with a man she didn’t know. 

She thought he might have said something, but she didn’t process his words. The pounding in her chest was like a drum, echoing in her ears. 

The man knelt beside her, gently pushed her shoulders forward, and inspected her wrists, his fingers trailing gently over her skin. 

“I’m going to cut these off, okay? Don’t move.” 

She nodded in acquiescence, watching from the corner of her eye as the trooper pulled a vibroblade from his belt. 

Sol could tell that something was wrong within seconds. Instead of the tension between her wrists snapping, the chain remained unbroken. 

Oh fuck. 

Her and Garo’s cuffs must have been accidentally swapped. Garo was an avid protester and frequently found himself getting arrested. At some point, he’d acquired a pair of beskar-durasteel binders, just to make the lives of the police more difficult. The police would have to search through his bag for the tiny key before they could finally get him removed from wherever he’d attached himself to. 

Her cuffs were meant to be durasteel, and Sol didn’t have the key to these. That was with Garo. Garo, who was currently in custody, and probably being processed at the prison at this very moment. 

Oh fuck, indeed. 

“What are these?” He sounded angry, and the pang in her chest worsened.

Sol told him, and from there, it was a bit of a blur. All of the adrenaline that had coursed through her body during the protest was gone, and Sol was left exhausted. 

She vaguely registered the man speaking to someone on a comm, and then searching her bag. 

He seemed surprised by her aloofness at being arrested, though Sol couldn’t really tell without seeing his face. Little did he know that her indifference was a mask, concealing the fear that filled her.

Then, a Jedi arrived. A real Jedi. 

He was gorgeous, which was unfortunate since the Jedi were famously unattached. It seemed a shame that someone so attractive shouldn’t be allowed to pursue a relationship. 

To stave off a panic attack from being so close to a lightsaber, Sol relaxed her mind and focused on her breaths. 

The Jedi seemed curious as to why she would bother protesting for the Zillo Beast, and although she could tell they didn’t entirely agree on the situation, Sol had to respect his willingness to hear her opinion. 

When she was finally free from the cuffs, the trooper led her to the edge of the platform, and within minutes they were on their way to the prison. 

Once they arrived, the same trooper led her to the entrance, but before they could go in, he pulled her to a stop.

“Listen, you shouldn’t be here too long. There’s a 24-hour holding period, then someone can post bail for you. Do you have someone you can call?”

His tone was soft, and his grip on her elbow was firm but gentle. 

She nodded and told him about the bail fund. The advocacy group she was a part of had a fund for bail costs and legal fees in case of arrest. 

When the booking officer, named Booker, of course, took her to be processed, Sol swore she’d felt the other trooper’s gaze on her back. 

All of that led her to now, lying in the dark on a rigid bunk. Despite her previous fatigue, Sol couldn’t fall asleep. She never could in new places. 

After staring at the ceiling for an indeterminate amount of time, a tremor suddenly shakes the building. Sol watches from the bunk as one of the guards on patrol runs down the hallway. 

The tremor becomes stronger, and Sol sits up, feeling helpless and claustrophobic. What if something happens while she’s stuck in the cell? Is this an earthquake? Can Coruscant even have earthquakes? 

A roar echoes through the building, and Sol’s heart drops to her stomach. The Zillo Beast has escaped. That’s the only explanation she can think of. 

She waits for what must be hours, feeling and hearing the battle taking place in the city outside. 

Finally, there’s silence. Sol knows, realistically, that the Zillo Beast is dead. The only way they could have stopped the creature would be to find a way to kill it. Her heart breaks a little, knowing that it was too late, and their efforts had been fruitless. 

How many people have died because of this? How many have lost their homes? How many millions of credits will have to be spent on rebuilding? 

With these thoughts swirling in her head, Sol falls into a fitful sleep.