Star Wars: Ahsoka

by Johnston, E. K.

  He still dreamed of that last night, when the Temple had burned. Sometimes he was able to get the Padawan into his speeder in time. Sometimes the clones shot him, too, when they shot the boy. Every once in a while, he failed to rescue Yoda and woke in a cold sweat, with the sound of blasters and lightsabers echoing in his ears and visions of a tiny, broken green body haunting him. When he had the dream on Coruscant, there was nothing he could do about it but accept his defeat and yet another night of lost sleep. When he had the dream on Alderaan, he would get Leia out of her bed, hold her close to his chest, and hope against hope that she exhibited only her mother’s gifts, not her father’s. He would stand there, cradling her, until Breha found them and guided them both back to bed.

  The idea that there was a survivor out there filled his chest with equal parts anticipation and dread. Dread because the Empire would never stop hunting the Jedi and anticipation because a Jedi was a natural ally to his cause. There was no description of the Jedi in question, so he didn’t know who he was looking for. He knew it couldn’t be Obi-Wan, at least. There had been thousands of Jedi before the purge. It was likely that this one would be a stranger to him and would have no reason to trust him if he made an overture of friendship. That said, it would have to be someone relatively powerful to have survived for so long, making it worth the effort to find them.

  He debated sending a message to Obi-Wan but almost immediately dismissed the idea. They had agreed to no contact, except in the direst of emergencies, and as much as a Jedi survivor might make his old friend feel better, Bail knew it wasn’t worth the risk. Someday, if he had a reason to reach out, he would. But the toddler in his office was all the reason he needed to keep silent, and there was another child, one he’d met only for a few moments, who needed his discretion just as badly.

  Bail deleted the report and scrubbed the drive clean. At some point, it would be useful to have a way to store these files, but right now he simply had no way of securing them once they were decrypted. He currently relied on verbal transmission and living memory, which was inconvenient but generally safer for everyone involved. He looked out the window, the green-and-blue mountains of his home world a comfort to him, as they always were.

  He would get the R2 unit back from Captain Antilles. The droid was trustworthy and capable of defending himself. Bail would just have to make sure not to leave the droid alone with his daughter, in case either of them got any ideas.

  Thinking about her made Bail look at the aquarium again. Leia had pulled herself up, her hands and her nose pressed against the glass, as she watched an orange-and-purple tentacled creature move through the water like a dancer. She laughed every time it changed direction, which it did by emitting a stream of bubbles. He couldn’t imagine his life without his daughter. He couldn’t imagine not working for a better galaxy for her to grow up in. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to do all that and manage to keep her safe.

  He closed all the files on his desk once the message to Captain Antilles was sent. He’d get a reply soon, and until then he would need to think about the next step and discuss the options with his wife. Bail crossed the room quietly, counting on the tentacles to keep his daughter from seeing his reflection in the glass, and then swung her up into his arms. Her surprised giggles echoed through the office, the perfect counterpoint to his deeper laugh.

  “Outside,” she said, not willing to relinquish his attention, even if they left the aquarium behind.

  “Outside,” he agreed, and carried her onto the balcony, where he’d first introduced her to her mother and the planet she would grow up calling home.

  The main problem was that after a certain point, despite his training as an Inquisitor and skills of observation, all children looked the same to the Sixth Brother. That point came fairly early in his inquisition this time, because of the sheer number of children this family seemed to have produced. He was able to rule out the older ones; who would have come to the attention of the Jedi Temple before it fell, but there were at least a dozen younger ones, and they seemed to travel everywhere in a pack.

  The report hadn’t been entirely reliable to start with, either. Static-laden surveillance holos of a shipyard weren’t all that useful, and he hadn’t even seen the replay himself before some inept underling managed to ruin it. All he had were the statements of four stormtroopers and a lieutenant who had seen the recording before it was destroyed, and none of them had been able to say for sure if it had been a child in the recording. No one else had actually seen a child do anything, or at least he hadn’t found such a person to question yet. The family didn’t seem to be aware that they might be concealing a traitor in their midst.

  So he was reduced to this: sitting on a backwater planet, watching an unruly mob of children until one of them exhibited Force sensitivity that she may or may not actually possess. More than once, he wished he could just arrange an accident for all of them and solve the problem that way. The Fardi family was important on Thabeska but virtually unknown everywhere else in the galaxy. There would be no complaints if an entire generation of them met with an untimely end. Sadly, that was against his current directive. He didn’t kill children. He only acquired them for his masters.

  The console he was seated at signaled an incoming message. It was a holorecording from a moon even more backward than the planet he was already on, so he very nearly ignored it altogether. Then he noticed the message’s code. It was a new one, created especially for him and his brothers and sisters. It might be another wild mynock chase, but it might also be something he very much wanted to see.

  “Attention, Imperials,” the recording began. It was a low-level district commander, though his rank was unusually high to be stationed on a moon that far out. There must be something on the moon that the Emperor really wanted. “We have detected the presence of a Force-sensitive being. Identity cannot be determined, but ability to use the Force has been confirmed by several parties. Age indicates a certain level of Jedi training. Suspected Padawan, no higher. Report made according to standard procedure while we await further instructions. Please advise.”

  This was much better than looking for a child. A child was to be captured and taken for experimentation and corruption. A Jedi, even a lowly Padawan, he could kill. Moreover, he was granted unlimited Imperial backing when it came to tracking down a Jedi, and he’d been meaning to brush up on his interrogation tactics. Now all he had to do was make sure he got there first.

  He recorded a quick reply, using the same code, so the district commander would not find his arrival unexpected. From what hadn’t been said in the message, he guessed that the Jedi had already managed to escape and the commander needed all the help he could get before the full measure of his incompetence was brought to light. The Inquisitor sent a longer, though still quite terse, message to his own headquarters, detailing where he was headed and why. None of the others had replied yet, which meant his claim was solid. He was not above poaching, though, so he couldn’t really expect the others to be. He had to get to the useless little moon as soon as he could.

  With no hesitation, he closed the file he’d been monitoring and marked it as noncritical. If one of the children had any power, it wasn’t enough for him to find or track and was therefore nothing to be concerned about. The Empire could always send another Inquisitor if it was deemed necessary in the future, but he was done with this dusty world. And an adult was better prey. He stood up, pulled his helmet down over the gray skin of his face, and strode across the shipyard to where his sleek vicious little ship was docked. He had no belongings, save the weapon he carried on his back, and he was in orbit and calculating the jump to hyperspace before much time had passed.

  In the dust on the planet’s surface, Hedala Fardi played with her cousins in the empty yard where her family’s ships docked. The ugly feeling that had been bothering her for the past few days, like a toothache or a dark spot in the corner of her eye that she could never quite bring into focus, suddenly lifted, l
ike the sun coming out from behind a cloud. She took her turn at the toss-and-catch game and was perfect as usual, making her shot with no real effort. Her older sibling and cousins didn’t question her skill at the game. It had long since ceased to be a wonder to them.

  IT WAS MUCH WORSE than Ahsoka had expected. Every system she passed through had an Imperial presence, and they weren’t just discreet bases set up to monitor local governments. They were oppressive, controlling resources and populations alike, with no regard for personal rights and needs. Any overt resistance was crushed. Ahsoka had nearly wept when she read the updated bulletins of what continued to happen on Kashyyyk while she’d been out of contact on Raada. She wondered what had become of Chewbacca, the Wookiee with whom she had escaped from captivity on the hunter moon. She hoped he had survived and that he hadn’t regained his freedom only to lose it again, but she was starting to lose that hope.

  The planets that weren’t under the control of the Empire had all been overrun by crime lords, none of whom were friendly. Ahsoka didn’t think Jabba the Hutt would feel obliged to pay her any kindness, let alone keep her presence a secret. She briefly considered Takodana, a green world covered with water and more plants than she felt comfortable around, but decided against it without even making landfall. There were just too many unknowns.

  After the seventh Outer Rim system that she deemed too Imperial to approach, Ahsoka made a decision. She couldn’t go back to Raada yet. It was safer for everyone, safer for Kaeden, if she stayed away until she came up with a way to rescue everyone at the same time. The Imperials would still be looking for her, and it would be better for her friends if they didn’t know where she was.

  She also couldn’t go anywhere in the Core. Even the Inner Rim would be too exposed. As much as she would like to find a hidden valley on a mountainside on some planet like Alderaan or Chandrila, she couldn’t risk it. Her life as a Jedi meant that she knew too many people there.

  What she could do was go back to the Fardis. The Empire was already installed there, so things were stable, but the world wasn’t terribly important to galactic politics. She wasn’t even sure who the senator was, despite having lived on the planet for almost a year. The guilds and federations that had held so much power under the Separatists had mostly been obliterated at the same time as the Jedi. That was what had allowed the Fardis to step into power in the first place, without allying with a larger family like the Hutts. She could dodge patrols, and she knew she could get by without raising suspicions as long as she kept a low profile and made absolutely sure not to use the Force for anything. Ever.

  In her heart, she was willing to admit a secondary motivation. She needed to check on Hedala Fardi. She’d failed the child before, and since she couldn’t help Kaeden, she could at least try to help someone else who needed her. If she had another rescue to organize, she needed to know about it as soon as possible. She owed the family that much.

  She was close enough that the jump through hyperspace was short—an easy calculation, and then she was in orbit. She looked down at the familiar dusty landscape she’d briefly considered home and sighed. She was going to have to do some fast talking to convince the Fardis to take her back, even though they had all but given her clearance to leave in the first place.

  She could just hide. Bury her head in the dust, eat only what she could hunt, and disappear from civilized life entirely. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d be safe. She’d also be completely cut off. Hiding wouldn’t protect anyone except herself, and it wasn’t like she had anything to wait for. She’d just atrophy, alone. It would be better to try lying low again, until she figured out her next move. She squeezed the package of metal pieces, but it didn’t make her feel better. Not having a mission was hard.

  The last time she’d landed in the Fardi shipyard, the girls had met her. This time, it was the chief Fardi, the man who’d bought her Republic vessel, and he didn’t look particularly happy to see her.

  “Back, I see,” he called out as she disembarked. “Are you returning my property?”

  “I think I’ll keep it for a little longer, if that’s all right,” Ahsoka said. “If you have anything that needs fixing, though, I’d be happy to help out again.”

  He looked at her in a measuring way. She knew he didn’t know the truth about who she was, but he did know that she’d taken the opportunity to leave when it was presented to her, rather than stay and face Imperial scrutiny. Maybe he would decide she wasn’t worth the risk.

  “There’s always room for a good mechanic,” he said after a long moment. “Or even a competent one, like you.”

  Ahsoka smiled. Competency was tolerable.

  “Even less luggage this time,” Fardi commented.

  “I travel light,” Ahsoka said.

  “Well, you might as well come back to the house with me,” he said. “We’ll attract attention if we stand around for too long. Usually, we’re ignored, because the Imperials can’t tell us apart, but you’re definitely not related, so it’s best to get out of the open. The girls have missed you, and there’ll be food.”

  Ahsoka followed him down the dusty road. It was different than it had been when she left—quieter, an air of expectation hovering on every corner, but not the expectation of anything good. People kept their heads down, and Ahsoka would have to do the same, but keeping her head down wasn’t the same as ignoring what was happening around her, and Ahsoka had no intention of doing that. She’d check on Hedala, mend relations with the Fardis, and then see what she could do for Kaeden back on Raada.

  Hedala Fardi knew Ahsoka was coming. That was the only explanation for the girl’s appearing in the door of the family house by herself, away from the gaggle of children she usually ran around with. Even her uncle noticed the strangeness of it, though he let it pass without remark. Perhaps they’d grown accustomed to Hedala’s being strange.

  The little girl walked over to Ahsoka and hugged her around the waist. Ahsoka was pleased to see that she was alive and safe. She knelt down to give the girl a proper hug.

  “I’m glad to see you,” she whispered.

  “Me too,” Hedala said back. The girl was about a year past the age when the Temple might have found her, as far out from the Core as she was. Her baby lisp was gone, vanished in the weeks Ahsoka had been absent. “There was a shadow while you were away.”

  Ahsoka wanted to ask what she was talking about, but before she could, the Fardi cousins swarmed her. Already on the ground, Ahsoka had no choice but to submit to the hugs and remonstrations about her absence.

  “We’re happy you’re safe, though, Ashla,” said the oldest girl. Ahsoka still couldn’t remember the girl’s name. She’d have to do better this time.

  “I’m happy you’re all safe,” Ahsoka said. “The galaxy’s starting to be kind of an ugly place.”

  “Shhhh, don’t let Mama hear you talk like that,” one of the girls said. “She doesn’t like politics, and she’ll make us talk about something boring instead. We’ll wait until we’re alone.”

  Ahsoka nodded, happy to be involved in so innocent a conspiracy if it led her to good intelligence, and fought her way back to her feet through the hugs from the littler girls.

  “I’m really sorry,” Ahsoka said, “but I’ve forgotten which name goes with which of you.”

  Instantly, a babble of giggles and names assaulted her. Ahsoka held up her hands in protest.

  “One at a time!” she said. “That’s probably why I could never keep you straight in the first place.”

  “No one ever keeps us straight,” said a girl who was older than Hedala, but not by much. “That’s how we avoid the law.”

  “Too many secrets, lovelies,” Fardi said. He’d come up behind them and was laughing. “But there’s no problem telling Ashla your names. Just get out of my hair while you do it. You babble worse than my own sisters.”

  The girls reacted to the perceived insult to their mothers by attacking, and Fardi pressed a hasty retreat toward his office. W
hile they pursued him, Hedala stood quietly next to Ahsoka. She took the opportunity to warn the girl to be careful.

  “I need you to tell me about the shadow,” she said. “But you mustn’t tell anyone else, do you understand?”

  Hedala nodded, small and solemn.

  “We’ll talk later,” Ahsoka said. She took the little girl’s hand. “Come on, let’s go save your uncle.”

  It took very little to divert the girls. They brought Ahsoka out into the courtyard, where they all sat on colorful pillows. The high walls made Ahsoka feel safe, even though she knew an Imperial walker could blast right through them. The oldest Fardi girl appeared with a tea tray that held an enormous pot and more than a dozen little cups.

  “I’m Chenna,” she said, pouring a cup and handing it to Ahsoka. Despite the heat of the day, the tea was very hot, and Ahsoka blew on it before taking a sip.

  Chenna passed out all the cups, naming each girl as she received hers. It was really quite lazy to say they all looked the same. Similar, yes, but that was genetics. Ahsoka catalogued each name as she heard it, linking it with something unique to each girl. Finally, Chenna got to Hedala.

  “And this is Hedala,” she said. “But you already knew that, because everyone always remembers Hedala’s name.”

  “She will have trouble with the law,” said Makala in a singsong voice.

  “You’ll have trouble with the law,” said Chenna, “if you don’t pay more attention to your pilot lessons.”

  Makala went off to sulk while the rest of the girls laughed. They started talking about learning to fly, a family requirement, and all the other things they’d done since Ahsoka had left. Eventually, as the sun lowered in the sky, they began to wander off in search of their dinners, and just Chenna, Ahsoka, and Hedala were left sitting in the courtyard. Hedala was seated on Chenna’s lap, and the older girl was brushing her fingers through Hedala’s straight black hair. By this time, Ahsoka had figured out that Chenna was Hedala’s sister and took special care of her on that account.