One (Star Wars)

Chapter 6

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.”

“You should come with us.”

“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.