Star Wars One
Page 5
Chapter Five
The first team didn’t find the children. But 483 knew it was only going to be a matter of time until the second team did. After having cleared the area, unit two would make the second, and more thorough sweep of the perimeter. They’d take their time. Which meant that even if they propped the refrigerator back in place, sooner or later a second pair of eyes was going to find them.
483 hesitated. He didn’t know what to do. The exits were blocked. There were troopers coming in at every which direction.
A tiny sneeze came from inside the gap. A girl’s hand rose into view, and cupped his nose and mouth. She was the same girl from the dossier. The eldest of the five. Not related, but they were all Jedi in training.
483 had fought with and against Jedi before. He’d killed his fair share in the past. The children before him might have been Jedi at one time. But now they were just scared children. They probably didn’t even carry lightsabers anymore to avoid bringing unwarranted attention.
32s voice came in.
“Alpha unit. Report back to the LAAT.”
Alpha unit. That was them.
“483, do you respond?”
483 stood cold and motionless.
“483.”
They were children.
“483.”
Why did he care?
“483. Blast it when we get to base I’m going to report you to central command. Do you understand me?”
“Do you want me to get him?” entered another voice on the comm.
“No. He’s my responsibility. I’ll get that idiot.”
32 was coming. He could feel his angry footsteps stomping across the floor until the commander finally entered the kitchen.
“483, your incompetence is getting on my last nerve. When I give you a direct order, I expect you to…oh…my…”
He saw the opening. The opening behind the fridge where 483 was looking in. He saw them all clear as day.
“All units respond. We’ve got a…”
But before he could finish, 483 brought his combat blade and slit 32 across his neck. 32 gargled for air, holding onto his throat whilst stumbling.
“32?” asked a soldier on the comm. “32? What’s your status? Repeat, what’s your status?”
32 was dead. And 483 suddenly had an idea.
“32 is down. Jedi, all five are making their escape. Report to the top stairwell immediately.”
“Roger.”
He switched off the broadcast unit on his helmet, then turned to the children. They were as mortified as they were confused.
483 pulled the refrigerator open, casting light on the five children. They back away immediately.
They were dressed in ordinary civilian clothes, keeping nothing remotely resembling the Jedi Order on their person.
“Wait here until I tell you to move,” he said in a whisper, and then left the room to check.
At the helipad was the LAAT they’d flown in on, still parked. Zanesh was seated on the back, his hands behind his back. The only one keeping him company was the pilot. The rest of the unit had already gone up the stairs, searching hard for the Jedi.
483 went back. And obedient to his word, they were still there.
“Come on.”
He stretched out his hand. The eldest of the five got up, and she touched him.
483 felt a bizarre sensation in his gut. It hurt. He could feel the goosebumps rising underneath his armor.
He shook it off, and 483 hurriedly dragged them towards the helipad, where one by one he began loading the children onboard.
“Hey what’s going on in there?” the clone pilot asked.
483 brought his blaster rifle out to the pilot’s face, and he fired a clean shot. The children leapt. He tossed the pilot out and took his place. He closed the door, and he took the LAAT off the landing pad.
The chatter inside his head didn’t stop.
“What was that? Was that gunfire?”
“Who’s piloting the LAAT? Where’s it going?”
“483. What’s your status?”
483 didn’t respond, but he kept the channel open so he could listen in on their progress. To his surprise, it didn’t take them long to figure out what had happened.
“483 has gone rogue. He’s taken the Jedi on the LAAT. Bring it down ASAP.”
483’s heart pulsed. One split second had been all it had taken for his life to turn upside down.
He’d served the empire his entire life. And now, on a strong difference of opinion he became its enemy.
Why did this happen?
“Why are you helping us?”
It was the passenger behind him that asked the question. The Twi’lek. His basic was fluent, though considering he grew up on Coruscant, it didn’t surprise him.
483 had nothing to say to his question, except “I don’t know.”
“I’ve never seen a clone with a conscience.”
Was that what it was? A conscience? Was that the one thing he had that the others didn’t?
“I thought you were all the same.”
So did he.
“Do you have transport to take you out to Alderran?”
“Yes. I assume that you…they arrested my transporter. I know someone who can take us there. A smuggler.”
483 kept his eyes on the sky, looking out for any birds that might give chase. None so far. But they were bound to show.
“What is your name?” Zanesh asked.
483 pondered the question. And more so than with the last question, he really didn’t know what to say.
483 hadn’t been given a birth name. Just a number ID. And one that changed every time he was moved into a new unit.
His first name had been 12. His second, 86. Throughout the span of his entire life, he’d been given more than a dozen names. His most recent, 483, having been assigned on Coruscant when he was transferred into 32s unit.
“I don’t have a name,” was about as simple a way to put it.
“Well whoever you are. I thank you for your help.” He paused a moment. Then, “You should come with us.”
As odd as it was, it wasn’t an entirely bizarre idea. 483 was now an enemy of the state. He had nowhere else to go.
“We’ll see.”
483 looked out the window, and saw a rocket speeding towards them.
“Hold on!”
483 veered his craft, but the LAAT wasn’t mobile enough to dodge the rocket. It was hit on its propellers, right where the shot had been aimed. The bird started to spin, then dropped with ever-increasing velocity.
“Hold on!”
The children held each other close. 483 grabbed at the yoke and pulled it back with everything he had. His life, and the life of others depended on it.
The city streets quickly spun into view. They were headed for a road. And that was all he remembered.
Chapter 6
483’s left leg was pinned below several heavy chunks of engine debris. The LAAT had been badly damaged. The console wrecked, and the vehicle’s parts tossed completely out of place. And yet in spite of the overwhelming disaster, everyone on board was still alive.
He did what he could to pry the dead weight off his leg, but it was heavier to move than he’d anticipated. He mustered every ounce of strength he had in him and got ready to push when by some miracle, the debris lifted itself.
One of the children was carrying it with his mind, staring at it with his outstretched hand.
483 was impressed.
The boy dropped the debris elsewhere, and offered the soldier his hand. 483 took it, and got back to his feet.
“Thank you,” he said, and realized it wasn’t something he’d grown accustomed to saying.
The boy simply smiled at him.
“You too.”
Zanesh got up to his feet, struggling with the binds behind his back. 483 grabbed his bloodied knife and cut them loose from his wrists.
“You should all leave now. They’ll be coming soon.”
“No. They’ll be here any moment. You’re going to need as much time as you can get to move yourselves clear out of here.”
“But they’ll kill you.”
483 didn’t want to die. But as a soldier, he wasn’t afraid of it either. One of the first lessons he’d ever learned in ops training was that the mission was always what mattered the most. The lives of soldiers were always inconsequential when compared to the mission.
Chatter kicked up again inside his helmet. Troopers were in range.
“Team Elcon approaching crash site. Armed and ready to take down all hostiles.”
483 turned to Zanesh.
“Get out of here.”
Zanesh gave the soldier a brief but courteous nod. And afterwards he took the children out through a dark alleyway off the road, and he disappeared only a short while after.
Special weapons teams showed up in armored trucks. One on either side of the street.
483 examined the clip on his blaster rifle, and took cover behind the debris so he wouldn’t be shot at from two opposite sides.
The armored truck stopped a few feet away from him. 483 lined the iron sights of his blaster rifle for a clean shot. The doors on the truck opened up, and troops began filing out. 483 waited for the first sign of an armored head, and he shot.
Unfortunately, the single round missed. Mid-range blaster rifles weren’t known to be effective at a distance. But if he was going to take down as many clones as possible, then he was going to have to try.
A squad of four clones darted towards him, weapons free. Even with the limited range of their weapons, they fired and didn’t stop. Their lack of accuracy gave 483 the chance he needed to take them all down with four well-placed single shots. Four more troopers entered the scene, and this time one of them managed to hit his arm.
The impact sent him hurtling back at the torn-up LAAT. 483 was down. And the injury on his left leg kept him from getting back up on his feet.
It was over. There was nothing more he could do but bide his time.
483 waited, and waited. He looked up at the night sky above his head, and enhanced the magnification on his visor until he could see the stars shining over Coruscant with near perfect clarity. He noticed each had its own shape that stood out from all the others. Some were smaller, some were brighter. Some were farther, and some were closer. In the end, in the infinite expanse of the galaxy, each star had its own unique attribute.
They were all different.
They were all one of a kind.