Star Wars One Shots

Clones after Order 66:Wolffe

Commander Wolffe could hardly believe it.
He shook his head as he stared at the holo document in the darkness of his small bunk on the AT-TE.
He looked it over again, holding onto a string of hope that it wasn't true, that it was just a joke. A sick joke.
Jedi Master Plo Koon confirmed dead.
Clones of the 104th Battalion, "Wolf pack", have executed Order 66, as asked of them.
It was bad enough that this said his Jedi, General Plo Koon, was dead. He had spent a long time fighting by the ma- Kel Dor's side, and he was gone now. By the hands of his men.
It didn't make any sense. Wolf pack would never do anything like this.
As asked of them. He re-read.
They were asked to do such a thing? And they complied?!
Wolffe remembered a story Rex had told him once, about a clone from the 501st, who had accused the Kaminoans of planting chips in their heads, making them do anything, even kill their fellow Jedi. That story was why Wolffe had removed his own chip.
His hand brushed the scar, and he realized, his brothers had never removed theirs. He also realized, if it weren't for the story, Wolffe might've killed the nearest Jedi on the spot.
He hadn't been in the battle which Plo had died, he had been elsewhere, a place he could not remember. But if their had been a Jedi around, Wolffe would never have killed them. He couldn't imagine such a thing. But now, he was forced to, forced to believe this seemingly false information.
Wolffe decided to find out if it was real or not.
He sighed, turning off the hologram and lying back on his bunk.
He closed his eyes, drifting into sleep.
But his dreams were haunted by the ways Plo Koon could've died, been simply shot from behind. He could've put up a fight, only to eventually have been shot down by his men. His friends.
He could've been hit from above, he could've been taken by the explosions of a bomber. He could've drowned.
Plo Koon could've been flying, and his clones could've shot his interceptor from the sky, and he could've crashed to the ground in a fiery blaze.
Wolffe jolted awake. Tears ran down the side of his face, the side of his real eye. He wiped them away quickly, and sat up.
He thought about Plo, and how on his armour he had the symbol of the Wolffe pack painted on. He thought of the day he had helped to paint the words Plo's Bros on the side of their LAAT.

The Wolf pack and the Jedi master had been so close, and the clones had simply killed him.
Now Wolffe was determined to find out why. What propelled his men to do something like this?
Commander Wolffe did not sleep for the rest of that night.
                            ·     ·     ·     ·
He had found them. He had found the Wolf pack survivors. On Cato Neimodia.
He hesitantly knocked on the door of the apartment.
The door slid open, and Wolffe, through the visor of his helmet, could see a couple of clones, blaster raised, as they inspected their visitor.
Their eyes widened as they realized who it was. They quickly lowered their blasters, and saluted.
"Commander." One, who Wolffe recognized as Comet, said.
"At ease." Wolffe removed his helmet.
"Come- come in." One gestured, and the rest moved aside.
Wolffe nodded, stepping inside the apartment.
"I have a question for you." He said.
"Anything, Commander." A clone answered.
Wolffe took a deep breath. One of these clones could've killed Plo. He might never know which one.
"Is it true," He closed his eyes. "That  Plo Koon is dead." Wolffe's voice was shaky.
"Yes- yes, s-sir." Comet said. "I-I couldn't control my own body. Palpatine said to 'Execute Order 66', and next thing I knew....General Plo was gone. I'm so s-sorry sir." He continued, drawing in a shaky breath. "I have nightmares about it. I hate myself for it. I would do anything to have gone back and time and fix it. Done anything to have removed my inhibitor chip. I can't believe myself, I disgust myself, to have killed Plo. I couldn't be more sorry, sir."
The other two clones looked sympathetically at him, their yellowish orange eyes soft and filled with tears.
"Where was he?" Wolffe asked.
"Here, on Cato Nemodia." Another one answered for his brother.
"Is the wreckage....still here?"
A clone nodded. "Two clicks east, if you want to look."
Wolffe put a hand on Comet's shoulder.
"Hey. You're my brother. Just know, were here for you. Don't beat yourself up for that, it....it wasn't your fault."
Comet nodded, then continued to stare of into space.
Wolffe moved to the other clones, giving them brotherly hugs, which they returned.
"Take care of him for me. Don't let guilt overcome him. Thank you, Wolf pack."
And with that he left, in search of the resting place of Plo Koon.
He hoped onto his speeder, navigating through the complicated landscape of Cato Neimodia, following the directions the clones had given him.
Two clicks east.
Then he saw it. A barely recognizable Interceptor, Plo's Delta 7, signed and broken from a fiery crash. That was one of the horrible deaths Wolffe had dreamed of.
He sped towards it.
Wolffe slowly got off of the speeder, and walking towards the rubble.
No sign of Plo himself, but Wolffe did see pieces of the breathing mask his Jedi would wear so he could breath outside of the Helium atmosphere of his homework.
He kept looking, and his heart stopped.
The piece of armour Plo had worn, the Wolffe pack symbol still as clear as day, painted in gray paint on the singed and crumbled armour.
(The armour part is real I just can't find a picture....)
He picked it up, holding it.
Wolffe removed his helmet to get a closer look at it.
He then pressed it to his chest.
Rest in peace, Plo Koon.