After she was captured and thrown in a cell, they left her alone for what felt like hours. She knew it couldn’t have been more than four, because there was a window in her cell and it was still dark outside. But it was more than long enough for her to relive every terrible story she’d ever heard and for her imagination to work her mind into a frenzy. She didn’t bother hiding her tears. She knew the Imperials would see them—and more—eventually.
The first interrogator didn’t ask her any questions. She pressed a machine to Kaeden’s chest, and when it was activated, all Kaeden could do was scream from the pain. She would have said anything, given up anyone, to make the pain stop, but the woman didn’t ask, and she never let up long enough for Kaeden to talk. When she finally removed the apparatus, Kaeden fell sideways onto the floor, her throat too raw from screaming to say anything at all.
The second set of interrogators asked, of all things, about her health. They wanted to know if she had heart problems and if she was fully human, or if she had some genetic quirk. Kaeden’s voice was slow to return, so she mostly nodded or shook her head in reply, and when they were satisfied with her answers, they strapped her to the chair, palms up. Kaeden realized that this exposed all the veins in her arms. One of the interrogators went into the corridor for the medical tray and wasted no opportunity for drama in showing Kaeden the needles and vials they were about to use on her. After all the injections, Kaeden felt too cold and too hot at the same time, and she had trouble holding her head upright.
“Give her a few minutes,” she heard one of them say to someone who stood in the hallway. “We might have underguessed her weight. They’re all a bit scrawny in the Outer Rim. It makes them hard to medicate.”
Kaeden blinked stupidly and wished very hard for a glass of water. Then she laughed out loud. Water! Why not wish for free arms and a clear head and a ship that would carry her to safety. What she really wished for, more than anything, was that the first interrogator and her terrible machine would never come back into her cell.
The door opened again. Kaeden tried to look up, but her head was still too heavy for her neck. A very bright light came on, and something hummed loudly, uncomfortably close to her ear. She turned slightly and saw the round black interrogator droid hovering there, bright needles protruding from it. The threat was clear: talk or pain. Kaeden honestly wasn’t sure yet which one she was going to choose.
Another chair scraped against the floor, and a figure sat down across from her. He was dressed in Imperial gray, and his hat was pulled down over his eyes. Kaeden couldn’t decipher his rank, but he carried himself like someone who was used to being obeyed.
“Kaeden Larte,” he said. She was a little surprised he knew her name but tried not to show it. She failed. “Human female, legal adult, caretaker of Miara Larte, a sister. You were not born here, but you were orphaned here, you have never been indentured, and your work record is spotless. Your crew lead thought you might actually replace him, when he got around to retiring.”
That was a surprise. Vartan had never mentioned it, and Kaeden had never considered it. It was somehow reassuring to know he thought well of her, even though it did her no good whatsoever at the moment.
“More recently, however, your prospects have dimmed somewhat,” the man continued. “Larceny, vandalism, conspiracy, murder, and treason. That will probably put a stop to your upward career mobility.”
She wished she had something clever to say, like a character in a holonovel, but her tongue was too heavy and her brain too slow. Also, she was too scared.
“The only decision you have remaining is how you wish your sentence to be carried out.” He pulled his hat up, and Kaeden was struck by the pitiless look in his eyes. “You’ll die for your crimes, of course, but if you were to cooperate with us, we would make sure you left this mortal coil with, shall we say, no worries on your chest.”
Kaeden flinched so severely that she wrenched her arms sideways in their straps. Her shoulder joints scraped agonizingly, but before she could fully register the pain, the chair toppled over. Her arm had moved just enough that it was crushed under the metal chair, and it was that pain, real and concrete, that finally broke through the fog in her brain. Two stormtroopers rushed into the cell to pick her up and set her right.
“I see we understand each other,” he said, as though nothing had happened. “I need you to tell me two things, Kaeden, two little things, and you’ll die with a single blaster bolt to the heart. Where are your friends hiding? We know they ran off and left you to get captured, but you must know where they went. Tell me.”
She tried to answer him but only croaked.
“And what is the Jedi’s name?” This time, the look in his eyes was demonic. He didn’t want to capture or torture Ahsoka. He wanted to kill her—for a promotion or for power or for the opportunity to say that he, personally, had killed a Jedi. He wanted Ahsoka dead.
Kaeden croaked louder this time. If he thought she legitimately couldn’t talk, it might buy her a little time.
“Your lack of cooperation is unfortunate.” He clicked his tongue at her. “But not altogether surprising. Consider carefully, Kaeden Larte, and I will be back when the sun comes up. Or perhaps one of my colleagues will come instead.”
Kaeden managed to control the flinch a bit better this time. The ache in her arm helped, giving her something else to focus on. It was definitely broken.
They left her strapped to the chair.
Ahsoka perched on the roof of the Imperial admin building. Climbing up had been easy. Now that she was no longer being careful to hide her true self, she had managed it in two jumps. The hardest part was waiting for a break in the patrols and finding the best spot to make her ascent. The rear of the compound was still underprotected.
Her examination of the prefab building yielded some interesting results. Ahsoka had seen the tanks, of course, but the building itself was of the style used during the Clone Wars, which meant she could guess the layout of the inside without actually seeing it. She allowed herself a small smile at the idea that Imperial monotony was working to her advantage.
She crossed the roof to the left side, her right since she was approaching from the back, because it had suffered the most damage during the day’s attack. She ruled it out as soon as she saw it, though, because the guard had been quadrupled to compensate for the damage. There would be no easy entry that way. Ahsoka slid down the wall to the lower roofline, still at the rear of the building. If the design was consistent, the holding cells would be there anyway.
She looked over the side, down the steeply slanted walls, and saw narrow windows that she remembered being at the tops of the cells. They were included in the design for air circulation and deemed an acceptable security risk because they were thought to be too small for escape. They were, Ahsoka noted, also designed with full-grown adult humanoids in mind. That would be her way in.
One of the windows was emitting a very bright light, the sort that an interrogator might use to keep a prisoner as uncomfortable as possible. The light went out suddenly, and Ahsoka made herself count to one hundred before she lowered herself headfirst, with her toes clinging to the ledge, to check the room. There was no point getting caught because of impatience.
She peered through the dimness and felt something in her stomach uncoil. There was Kaeden, and she was alive enough to be sitting upright in a chair. Ahsoka reached into her pocket and drew out the last of Miara’s corrosive charges. She couldn’t risk the noise of blasting the window, even though this way would take longer. Upside down, the charges were difficult to install, and Ahsoka nearly burned her thumbs off, but she managed it in the end and moved to the side to wait.
Her head was pounding by the time the glass was brittle enough for her to push it into the cell. It made more noise than she might have liked, but the thick walls muffled it somewhat. She crawled through, biting her tongue as she brushed against the leftover chemicals, and then dropped to the floor.
“Kaeden,�
� she whispered. “Kaeden, wake up.”
Kaeden stirred and looked at her, and her head lolled to the side. Drugs, then, in addition to whatever else they’d done to her. Her arm was broken, and the wound on her head had reopened, trickling blood into her eye. Ahsoka went to work on the restraints. She didn’t bother with breaking the locks; she just cracked the straps using the Force.
“Kaeden, I need you to wake up,” Ahsoka said. “I need your help for the next part of this.”
“Ashla—Ahsoka, you shouldn’t have come,” Kaeden said. It sounded as if she were talking to a dream, but at least her voice was low. “They want you so bad, Ahsoka. They want you dead.”
“Shhh, I know,” Ahsoka said. “It’s okay. I can take care of myself. But first I need to take care of you. Can you help me?”
Kaeden tried to answer, but her eyes rolled back, and Ahsoka wasted precious seconds trying to decide if it was safe to shake her. She pulled Kaeden to her feet and took measure of the girl’s wobbly stance and broken limb. This was going to be difficult but not impossible. She put her hands on Kaeden’s shoulders, gently, mindful of the injured arm, and breathed a sigh of relief when the girl’s eyes refocused.
“Okay,” Ahsoka said. “I am going to climb out the window and then pull you out behind me. It’s going to hurt, but I need you to be as quiet as you possibly can.”
Kaeden managed a nod, but nothing else. They were going to have to do this one step at a time, because every step forward was an improvement over their current situation.
Ahsoka hoisted herself out the window and then leaned back in for Kaeden. It was an awkward position. Her head was too big, and her shoulders were at a wrenching angle. She used the Force to pull Kaeden up and maneuver her through the narrow opening, and then lowered her to the ground before jumping down after her.
“Can you run?” she asked.
Kaeden cradled her arm against her chest, her head clearer now that she was in the open air. Ahsoka couldn’t carry her all the way back to safety, but something—either panic or determination—had reinvigorated Kaeden. She was solid on her feet, and her eyes had lost a bit of their drug-induced glassy sheen. They had about three minutes before a patrol came around the corner, and quite a bit of ground to cover.
“I don’t really have a choice,” Kaeden said, and they took off, moving as quickly as they could.
Ahsoka led the way. There was no time for diversion, and no real need of it, so she just went straight to her tiny house on the edge of town. It was unguarded, and the lock was still intact. She and Kaeden went inside just as the sun was coming up. It was all Kaeden could manage for now.
“We’ll wait until dark,” Ahsoka said, “and then head back to the caves.”
“No, Ahsoka,” Kaeden said. She lay down on the bed, completely spent. “You have to go now.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Ahsoka said. She filled a canteen with water and helped Kaeden as she struggled to sit up and drink.
“Yes, you are,” Kaeden told her as Ahsoka eased her back down. “I saw his face when he talked about you, the Imperial commander. Ahsoka, he wants you dead just to see you die, and he’s not going to be nice about it. You have to take your ship and leave. Now.”
The worst part was that Kaeden was right, and Ahsoka had known it since before she’d pulled her out of that cell. Staying wouldn’t just endanger Ahsoka, but everyone else, as well.
“I’ll come back for you. I promise,” Ahsoka told her, her voice as steady as she could manage.
It wasn’t just that she was leaving her friends; she was leaving her friends again. This time, at least, she’d been able to commit one act of heroism before being forced away. Kaeden was safe.
“You’ve done more than enough for us already,” Kaeden said. “We were just too stupid to see it.”
“I’m coming back,” Ahsoka repeated. Then she paused. “Thank you. For taking me in when I got here. Even though I kept things from you.”
“The galaxy’s a lot bigger than Raada,” Kaeden said. “It took me a while to understand that.”
Ahsoka reached into her pocket, where the pieces of discarded tech were still tightly wrapped in their packaging. She was close to something, but she wasn’t close enough.
Ahsoka didn’t need darkness for cover the way Kaeden would. She was faster and she could deal with any pursuit. She could get to her ship and make her escape. She had to let go of her feelings. She looked over at Kaeden one last time, and then she left.
THE MIDDLE OF a battlefield was a less-than-ideal place for in-depth self-reflection, but Anakin Skywalker was a well-trained Jedi and more than up to the challenge. In the time since he had ceased to be Obi-Wan’s Padawan learner, he’d come to appreciate the independence of being his own master. Of course, he still had to follow the Temple rules and go where the Jedi Council sent him, but he was a general now. And the clones were his to command.
It was all very different than he’d imagined, when he was still that little boy back on Tatooine who had looked up at the stars and known that there was something better for him. The galaxy was much more complicated than Master Qui-Gon had let on, and while he was grateful for Obi-Wan’s teaching, sometimes Anakin couldn’t help but wonder how things would be different if Qui-Gon had lived. For all the Jedi disapproved of attachments, there was nothing in the galaxy that was ever truly untethered. Anakin’s own unofficial return to his birth planet had proved that well enough.
And now Anakin was attached: by his oaths to the Temple and to Padmé, his unspoken but no less sincere promises to Obi-Wan, his responsibilities as a commander of troops in the Republic army. The clones had been intended as a faceless mass, but already they were exhibiting undeniable signs of individuality, and Anakin didn’t doubt they would continue to do so.
Perhaps this new Padawan that Obi-Wan had requested would help give him perspective. Anakin was reluctant to bring someone with no practical combat training this far out into the war. Christophsis was a dangerous place, even for two Jedi of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s skills, and they’d already proven that they could take the planet only to be at risk of losing control immediately afterward. At the same time, Anakin knew that there was no guarantee of safety for a Padawan anywhere anymore, and he knew from personal experience that Obi-Wan Kenobi was the best of teachers. Plus, this time around, he’d have Anakin to help him.
Or at least, he would if Obi-Wan wanted.
Anakin wasn’t entirely sure what his place next to Obi-Wan would look like once his friend had a new student. Jedi weren’t as married to the concept of two as the Sith were, but most of them acted singly or in pairs. It was one of the reasons Anakin had never put in for a Padawan of his own. He didn’t want it to look like he was pushing Obi-Wan aside. Now, Obi-Wan had gone and done it first, and Anakin still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
He surveyed the battlefield below him for the hundredth time since the shooting had stopped. It would only be a matter of time before the Separatists tried to take another crack at the Republic heavy weaponry, and Anakin wanted to be sure he was ready for anything when that happened, even if it involved incorporating Obi-Wan’s Padawan into his strategy.
Maybe it would be for the best. The addition of a younger Jedi would constantly remind Obi-Wan that Anakin was old enough for more responsibilities, that he was that much closer to being a master in his own right. And getting different assignments than Obi-Wan wouldn’t be so bad, either. It might even give him the opportunity to spend more time with Padmé. On strictly official business, of course.
Anakin looked upward as a new sound split the air above where he was perched. A Republic messenger ship had broken through the Separatist blockade. He hoped it would carry the beginnings of their reinforcements, enough to start turning the tide of the battle on the planet’s surface. Anakin told his clone commandos to hold their positions and then went off to meet Obi-Wan. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that his life was about to change.
BAIL ORGANA fel
t like he was being buried in bureaucracy. His office in the royal palace on Alderaan was roomy, and he’d never felt overwhelmed in it before. There was more than enough space for chairs, a desk, and the aquarium full of brightly colored sea creatures he’d had installed to keep his daughter from getting under his feet, but he felt like all the room in the galaxy wouldn’t accommodate the double weight of responsibility he now carried. He did what he could to represent the people of the Alderaan sector in the Imperial Senate, and he did what he could to help the people of the galaxy when he was sure no one was watching.
He was almost positive no one was watching him now.
He risked a glance sideways to be sure his daughter was distracted by the fish and then opened the latest of his secret files. It was encrypted, of course, but he had it decoded soon enough. He looked sideways again. The trouble with adopting the child of two prodigies was that there was a decent chance she would turn out to be unusually intelligent, as well. He was reasonably certain that Leia hadn’t learned to read while he was on Coruscant for the last senatorial session, but with her, he could never be sure. He wouldn’t be able to keep her out of the mess forever, but he and Breha had agreed they should keep her clear of it at least until she could reliably speak in coherent sentences.
He started reading and almost forgot that Leia was in the room at all.
The moon was called Raada, a small satellite of an uninhabitable planet that he had to look up on a star chart. He had no idea why the Empire had gone there, but they had, and the local population—mostly farmers, according to the report—had not reacted well to occupation. During their resistance, several of them had died or been captured. All this information pulled at Bail’s heartstrings, but it was the note at the end that made his heart nearly stop: Jedi activity confirmed.
Star Wars: Ahsoka Page 11
