Star Wars: Plo Koon Survives

Plo's Escape

Plo finally had the strength to open his eyes. His mask had been removed. He hadn't seen with his naked eyes in some time. It was bright, too bright. He closed his eyes again, squinting. He felt the liquid around him. Encasing him. He was levitating in a tube of bacta, suspended in animation. He was in a hospital on Cato Neimoidia. Those two fair souls had saved him. He saw two abstract figures outside and heard them conversing.

"He is in bad condition, sir. Five broken ribs, a fractured left humerus, and a cracked clavicle. He is healing exceptionally fast to our surprise though. Usually, these injuries take weeks but he's already healed three ribs and his humerus in three days. His skin also helped protect him from the fire, any Nemoidian would be a pile of ash."

"Interesting. He is a Kel Dor, a very resistant species, very strong. He is a fine specimen."

"Here sire, we found this with him, it was crushed."

"A... a lightsaber, he is a Jedi. The Republic must be looking for him. Contact them immediately. Tell them we found their missing Jedi general,"

Plo, hearing this lashed out with his left arm and slammed his hand against the glass. He couldn't speak. The Nemoidian went over to the control panel by his tube and pressed a button. Plo felt weak, from within. He blacked out.

Plo awoke to the sound of marching. He saw white figures outside the tube, their shapes being distorted due to the liquid and glass.

They surrounded him and he heard, "Prepare to fire on my command."

Plo's heart sank, that was Commander Wolffe's voice, distinct from others. They must've finished the ground assault and captured the planet.

"Ready!"

Plo felt anger brewing inside him, swelling in his throat, he was about to be killed by his men, loyal soldiers, and many dear friends.

"Arm!"

Plo attempted to contain the anger, but he couldn't. The Bacta around him boiled and foamed with his rage.

"Fir-"

He lashed out with both hands and the tank exploded. The bacta liquid covered the clones. Scooping all of the clones with the Force, they flew into the air. Plo tossed them and knocked them into the wall above the door. They all fell to the floor, every last one of them. They weren't hurt too bad, nothing fatal. Plo felt his face mask, he breathed deep, the gas filling his lungs. At the maximum lung capacity, he tore the mask off. He had to cover his eyes and his mouth. Using the Force as his guide, he began to sprint for the door. The Force located his items quickly. He grabbed his mask and rushed frantically to apply it to his face. It felt amazing as he inhaled his natural air. He felt rejuvenated. Now he needed his eye covers. He grabbed them both and applied them. Feeling secure, Plo took a deep breath from his respirator. It felt good to be free of the tank. He could finally see without risking death, a relief to be sure, and a welcome one. Finally seeing the room he was in, he looked around for the rest of his gear. It was a small room, with a foot locker being what held his respirator and eye covers. He opened a tall locker and found his clothes. His Jedi robes were filled with holes and charred and stained with his blood, but he had no other option. Dawning his robes and cloak, he covered his head with the hood, or what was left of it. He needed to get a better disguise. Reinforcements could be heard running to the bacta room. Their footsteps were heavy and loud. The clones ran past his door, he felt the Force was on his side. He made a break for it.

Outside of the hospital, on a landing pad, there was the clone's LAAT gunship. He moved towards it with caution expecting clones to be inside, but no, just the pilot. The pilot saw him and reached for his gun. He fired two shots, Plo simply moved left and then right. The bolts hit the ground and burned the floor creating black marks. He reached out and grabbed the gun with the force and pulled it to him. With the Force, he carefully put it on his belt. Plo looked down at the ground. His fingers curled. He didn't want to do this to the poor clone. The pilot was yelling for help attempting to contact the orbiting Venator. With a violent tug, Plo pulled his face to his hand and dragged the pilot inside of the LAAT. Plo shut the doors so it was quiet.

Plo began interrogating the pilot, "What is your name pilot?"

"Jedi!" He roared, fueled with rage from some other force, "Must follow orders!"

"Why have you turned on me?" Plo spoke calmly trying to soothe the rage of his prisoner.

"All good soldiers, follow orders!" the clone yelled back.

Plo reached out his hand and began to influence his mind. He felt a strange alimony in his head, like a probe controlling his mind. Wondering what this was, Plo dug deeper. There was a chip in his head. It was organic but artificial. Fives was right. This sent Plo for a loop. He questioned everything. They had been so close to discovering the entire Sith plot. Plo snapped back to the now, he had to get moving.

He told the clone, "You killed me, you shot me in the back, I fell off this platform into the abyss below. You claimed my broken lightsaber and my robe as trophies. Proof of your kill. You are the clone who killed Jedi Master Plo Koon. You will make sure you tell Commander Wolffe."

The Pilot replied, "I killed you, I shot you in the back, you fell off this platform into the abyss below. I claimed your broken lightsaber and your robe as trophies. Proof of my kill. I am the clone who killed Jedi Master Plo Koon. I will make sure to tell Commander Wolffe."

"Goodman," Plo said, almost amused. He tossed his broken saber on the floor of the LAATs belly and let his robe fall off into his hand. His robe dropped by the edge of the landing platform. Plo left it there for evidence. He put his hands together as he always did and left the ship. There was another nearby landing pad. A starship was left unattended. It was sleek and offensive, very similar to his Jedi fighter, just larger. It was Clandestine Type 85 X5. Its hull was dark blue and was highlighted by gold accents. Whoever owned this must've held a substantial amount of wealth. Plo had to do what must be done. He used the Force to open the cockpit and activate the ship with no trouble at all. The inside was comfy and luxurious. Plo sat in the pilot seat, punched a few buttons, the engines glowed bright orange. The ship revved up and lifted off the ground. Plo controlled the ship and it jetted upwards and left Cato Neimoidia.

Wolffe and the 104th clones exited the hospital in a panic, realizing Plo had juked them.

The pilot from the LAAT said, "I killed the Jedi, I shot him in the back, he fell off this platform into the abyss below. I claimed his broken lightsaber and his robes as trophies. Proof of my kill. I am the clone who killed Jedi Master Plo Koon! I made sure to tell you, sir."

"Really? Well done brother, we rid the galaxy of that filthy traitor," Wolffe said angrily and surprised that a single clone got the best of such a brilliant warrior.

He removed his helmet and walked up to the edge of the platform and looked over. A sadness overwhelmed Wolffe internally, but he knew what they had done was right.

"Goodbye Plo," Wolffe whispered so only he could hear it.

Looking down into the cloudy abyss, he shook his head violently. The Jedi were traitors to the Republic, they deserved no mercy. Wolffe continued to shake sense into himself. He put the helmet back on and turned on his heel. Hatred filled him to the brim. He saw the LAAT, the nose art, it read, "Plo's Bros."

Wolffe yelled, "Get this horrendous decal off my ship,"

His heart split, he felt nothing but pain. His head began to throb. It hurt. He felt it, he felt it. His head stung him, his temples throbbed. He collapsed to his knees. He grabbed his head almost like he was trying to claw the chip out of him. With a blink of an eye, the pain was gone. A mindless soldier rose, stood strong, ready for his orders. Wolffe had been caged. He boarded the LAAT. The doors closed and all light of hope was blocked out and Wolffe surrendered to the evil from within.