She opened her eyes and saw the planet that was her destination.
No, not a planet. A moon.
Raada.
AHSOKA SLIPPED INTO the atmosphere above Raada and landed as quickly as she could in the dark. By design, she was on the opposite side of the moon from the main town and fields. She’d have to leave the ship here. They were waiting for her, after all, and they’d probably be scanning, looking for her approach. She’d been in too much of a hurry when she left Raada to be stealthy, but now she needed to go undetected for long enough to complete the first part of her mission.
She loaded everything she would need into the carry bag and made sure her communication device was secured on her wrist. She hesitated when she got to the blaster. If all went according to plan, she wouldn’t need it, and she wasn’t sure what good it would do against the gray creature anyway. But someone else might be able to use it. She clipped it to her side. It wasn’t that heavy, and it wouldn’t be hard to carry it a little farther. Then she set out in the direction of the settlement.
She had been running for a little over two hours when she saw the first signs of life. A very small fire was burning. Whoever had set it had tried to conceal the light but clearly didn’t know enough about stealth to be entirely successful. The pit wasn’t deep enough. Ahsoka couldn’t be sure, of course, but she thought that probably meant whoever had lit the fire was not an Imperial.
She crept closer. Soon she could make out a figure, small and hunched over the flames for warmth. The figure shifted, and Ahsoka saw a crop of dark bushy hair silhouetted by the fire. It was Miara.
Ahsoka got as close as she could before whispering the girl’s name. She didn’t want to scare her too badly, but in the dark she didn’t have a lot of options.
“Miara,” she said, as nonthreateningly as she could manage. Miara still jumped, reaching for the old blaster she’d carried the night she and Ahsoka had taken out the walkers.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ahsoka said. “Miara, it’s me, Ahsoka.”
“Ahsoka?” Miara didn’t look like she believed her own eyes.
Despite the dark color of her skin, there was a pallid, unhealthy sheen to it. She’d clearly been crying; muddy tear tracks lined each of her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and there were bags under her eyes. She looked absolutely terrified.
“Ahsoka!” she said again, and threw herself into Ahsoka’s arms, more tears spilling. “You came back! K-Kaeden said you would. She said you would.”
“Shhhh, Miara,” Ahsoka said soothingly. She helped the girl sit back down by the meager warmth of the fire. “Tell me what happened. What are you doing out here by yourself?”
Miara choked on her tears but managed to stop them. When she found her voice again, she started to talk.
“We were doing okay,” she said. “I mean, it was awful, but we were hiding, like you said. Only then this terrible thing came, and he knew Kaeden’s name. He said if she didn’t come out, he’d blow the whole hillside up to kill us.”
Ahsoka’s heart sank.
“So she went,” Miara said. “Her arm was still so bad she had trouble walking, but she went. They were going to set up an ambush, see if they could catch him in the cross fire while she distracted him, but it didn’t work.”
“What happened, Miara?” Ahsoka asked again.
“I wanted to go, too,” she said. “I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want us to get split up again. Kaeden didn’t want me to, and somehow she managed to tell Neera, and Neera shot me with a stunner. I was unconscious for whatever happened next, and when I woke up…”
She trailed off, horror in her eyes.
“They were all dead, Ahsoka,” Miara said. “All of them. Neera, the others. Kolvin—Kolvin was cut in half. It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, and there wasn’t even a lot of blood.”
Ahsoka put her arm around Miara’s shoulder and held her close. It was exactly what she’d feared. The gray creature must have used her friends’ blasters against them, redirecting their shots. She’d done it herself, though she preferred to deflect bolts rather than reuse them. And Kolvin must have died on the creature’s lightsaber.
She gave herself a moment for grief. She might have prevented this, had she stayed, or her presence might have made everything even worse. There was no way to tell, so there was no reason to dwell on it. Ahsoka didn’t like this cold, compassionless side of her training, but she needed it now if she was going to get the job done.
Beside her, Miara was rocking back and forth. The girl was so scared and so worried, Ahsoka didn’t know if she could ask her for help. Maybe she ought to leave her and come back, if she could, once she was done. She dismissed the idea almost before she was finished thinking it. She couldn’t leave Miara behind. She owed it to Kaeden to do what she could, and she owed it to Miara, as well. She would see if she could sneak Miara back to Selda’s. The old Togruta would at least be able to feed her, and they could wait together.
“Miara,” Ahsoka said. “I need your help to rescue your sister.”
Miara looked up, shocked. “You’re really going to?” she said.
“That’s why I came back,” Ahsoka said. “Do you think you can help me?”
“Yes,” Miara said. “For Kaeden, I can help you.”
“I need you to put out this fire and then stay awake while I meditate,” Ahsoka said. “I’ll be defenseless, so I’ll need you to warn me if anything comes toward us. Can you do that?”
Miara nodded and started banking the fire. It would warm up as daylight approached, and the girl wouldn’t be cold for too long. Ahsoka didn’t have a cloak to loan her. She realized she had no idea where her cowl had ended up. Maybe she’d ask her new friend the senator for a nicer one.
“Focus, Ahsoka,” she muttered.
“What?” said Miara.
“Never mind,” Ahsoka said. “Just sit here. Are you ready?”
Miara nodded and sat up straight.
Ahsoka closed her eyes.
The first time, on Ilum, she hadn’t been able to find her crystal until she’d made the decision to trust Master Yoda’s instructions. After what had happened on her home planet when she was small, with the slaver posing as a Jedi, trust had not come easily to Ahsoka, even when her senses told her that she was in good company. The memory of the villagers’ scorn when she’d refused to demonstrate her powers for the false Jedi, the burning shame at her inability to explain the danger to her elders, had lingered with her.
But she’d let it go in that cave. She had decided to trust Yoda, and that had led her to her crystal. From then on, trust had been easier for her, because she’d learned to trust her own instincts again. She had even returned to Ilum later for a second crystal.
Right now, her instincts were telling her that the new crystals were going to want something else before they let her find them. And she thought she might have some idea what that was.
The differences between Bail’s organized rebellion and her operation on Raada had been stark. He wasn’t more successful because he was better than she was but because he had more to work with. With his access, she would be a valuable ally based on her experience alone, not even taking her powers into account. She had to be willing to work in a system again, to accept the order of common purpose and the camaraderie that went with it.
Her heart clenched. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t reforge connections with people who might betray her out of fear or because they had no choice. She couldn’t face the deaths of her friends again.
But then, she already was. While on Raada, she’d learned that there was no escape from it. Even if she was no longer a Jedi, she had too much training to turn her back on people in need. She would help them fight, and she would watch them die, and every time her heart would harden a little bit more.
No. There must be another way. A middle road. Somehow, she wouldn’t let the evil in the galaxy, the evil of the Empire, swallow her and change her nature. She thought of what had gone wrong on Raada and wh
at had gone wrong with Bail, and in both cases, she thought she saw a similarity.
She moved without thinking about it, her hand shifting so it covered the communication device on her wrist. That was it. That was what she could do to help the galaxy and try to keep her friends safe.
Softly, but then louder as the sun began to creep up over the hills, Ahsoka heard the song. It didn’t match the first one, though there were some similarities. She didn’t doubt for a second, though. The song was hers, if she was willing to fight for it.
The sun broke over the horizon completely, and Ahsoka Tano was whole again.
“Come on, Miara,” she said. “Let’s go get your sister.”
THE FIELDS OF RAADA were ruined. Even Ahsoka’s inexpert eye could see it. The soil that had once been a dark brown was now bleached to an unhealthy gray, and the life that she used to sense from it was almost entirely drained. The only things in the fields that looked healthy were the hectares of little green plants, the source of so much misery.
“If we get the chance,” Ahsoka whispered to Miara, who crouched beside her, “remind me to come back here and burn this to ash.”
“I’ll help,” Miara promised. “I’ve gotten pretty good at lighting fires.”
“Come on,” Ahsoka said. “We need to be through here before the first shift starts.”
Miara had told her that the Imperials had extended the shift lengths again. Now the farmers worked for nearly the entire time there was daylight to work by, and there were rumors that once the harvest started, the Imperials were going to bring in floodlights so the farmers could work in the dark, as well. There wasn’t a lot of time, and there wasn’t much cover, so Miara led Ahsoka along the edge of the tilled ground, and as soon as they reached the outlying buildings of the town, they ducked down an alleyway.
“We’re on the opposite side of town from the Imperial compound,” Miara whispered. “We’ll have to cross the entire settlement to get to Kaeden.”
“Not we,” Ahsoka said. “Just me. I need you to go to Selda and give him this.”
She passed over the holo she’d recorded in hyperspace.
“If you can’t find Selda, find Vartan or one of the other crew leads. But make sure it’s someone you trust!”
“I want to come with you!” Miara said.
Ahsoka stopped and put a hand on each of the girl’s shoulders.
“I know you do,” she said. “I know you’d do anything for your sister right now, but I need you to listen. I can get your sister out, but my ship is too far away for us to escape Raada. And even if the three of us got away, what would happen to everyone else?”
Miara started to protest but then stopped. Ahsoka could tell she had seen reason.
“I need you to get to Selda,” she said again. “Kaeden needs you to get to Selda. Okay?”
“Okay,” Miara said. “I’ll do it.”
Ahsoka squeezed Miara’s hand around the holo and then watched the girl make her way down the street. She’d learned to walk softly since Ahsoka had last seen her, and how to use even what little cover the street offered to her advantage. Ahsoka really hated war.
She let Miara get a good head start and then struck out in the direction of the Imperial compound. She did not use cover or make any pretense of attempting to conceal her approach. The gray creature knew she was coming and knew what her target was. Stealth was impossible, and she had one shot. Her only hope was that the Empire didn’t have a secret piece hidden on the back of the board like she did.
She walked down the middle of the street, senses alert and ready for anything. Every part of her was like an energy coil, wound tight and ready for action.
She didn’t have to wait very long.
“Jedi!” A harsh voice rang out. It seemed to come from every direction at once. Ahsoka cast out with her senses, searching for the source.
“You have something I want,” she said. It would be easier if she could get the gray creature to keep talking.
“Poor little Kaeden Larte,” said the creature. Ahsoka narrowed in on his location. “So hopeful that her Jedi friend would come for her. I had to tell her that Jedi don’t have friends. Jedi don’t have attachments of any kind. They’re heartless and cold and don’t even understand what love is.”
“I don’t know who taught you about the Jedi,” Ahsoka said. “But they seem to have left out a few things. You should ask for better lessons.”
“I told Kaeden that you weren’t a real Jedi,” the creature said. There! Ahsoka had him. Now she just had to wait for the right moment. “I told her that you were probably so scared of me that you were twelve systems away and never coming back. I’m actually happy to be wrong.”
She felt him jump off the roof of the building behind her and turned. She could no more identify his species in person than she could from his picture. He was taller than she was, even with the height she’d added in the past few years, and very broadly built. He was clearly very strong, and with the body armor he wore, he was a formidable opponent. He was still wearing his helmet, and his face shield was up, as though he needed to see her clearly while they fought. That was another difference in their training, Ahsoka thought. She could fight completely blind if she had to, though blind and without her lightsabers might be pushing it.
She focused her attention on his chest, where movement began. She felt the Force flowing through her as his lightsaber flared to life. She could hear its hum, a dark counterpoint to the song of her own crystals, now quite nearby. Ahsoka cleared her mind of all distractions.
The creature struck, and Ahsoka deflected his blows before they fell. She read his feelings through the Force that connected them, and she tracked the movement of his shoulders, elbows, and wrists, pushing them away so that they always missed their targets. Furious, he doubled his efforts, striking for her head and chest.
What the gray creature lacked in finesse, he made up for in brute strength. He pushed Ahsoka back, toward the line of houses, and she let him, still taking his measure as a fighter. When she reached the front step of the house behind her, she jumped off of it, using the Force to propel herself in an elegant flip over his head. She easily avoided the frantic swing of his lightsaber as she flew over him, then landed in a crouch on the other side, ready to continue.
“Impressive,” he said.
“You’re easily impressed,” she said. “I’m only just getting started.”
She felt more people behind her and realized that someone in the Imperial compound had gotten wind of what was going on. The walls were lined with stormtroopers, all of them pointing blasters at her. At least it didn’t look like they’d added any reinforcements since she left. She ducked down a side street, out of their line of fire, and the gray creature followed her.
He held his lightsaber aloft, and it began to spin. The effect was interesting—a deadly circle of light instead of a blade—but Ahsoka wasn’t intimidated by it. The creature’s entire strategy relied on overpowering his opponent. She had other options.
“What are you?” she asked. “Who made you like this?”
“I serve the Empire,” the creature said.
“You certainly have a sense for drama,” Ahsoka said.
She reached out for him again, this time for his hands and fingers, and for the balance of weight borne by his hips and knees. She felt something awaken in her, every combat lesson Anakin had ever taught. She remembered how to stand and how to hold the blades. She pushed her opponent’s fingers too far apart and overturned his balance. She remembered, and she could make him forget. He staggered back, surprised at her power over him even at arm’s length, but not yet overcome.
“I have a sense for power,” he said. “And you do not have enough to resist me for much longer, weaponless as you are.”
That was where he was wrong. She wasn’t weaponless. No Jedi ever was.
The creature stepped toward her, close enough for her to touch. His spinning lightsaber held off attacks from the sides, but was vu
lnerable from the front. Just as she’d reached for her first crystal all those years ago, Ahsoka stretched out a hand.
Sensing her intent at the last moment, the Inquisitor tried to disconnect his weapon and fight her with two blades instead of one, but it was spinning too quickly for him to do it. Ahsoka’s hand landed almost gently on the cylindrical metal, and the Force was with her. The hilt cracked at her touch.
A sharp whine reached Ahsoka’s ears, the dark and light song of the crystals struggling for balance. She realized she needed to jump back even farther. She must have nicked the power connection that channeled the crystals inside his hilt, and now it was overloading. If he didn’t deactivate it soon, it was going to explode.
Before she could even consider shouting a warning, the red lightsaber burst into a mess of noise and light. Bright spots pricked at her eyes, and then all was quiet. The creature wasn’t going to bother her anymore.
He lay in the street, his face a burned mess, the shell of his lightsaber still clutched in his hands. If he’d been able to fight her with his face shield down, he might have survived the blast.
She wondered who had trained him and if there were others. Someone had twisted the potential for good in this creature and turned him to the dark side. Someone had made him like this. Someone, Ahsoka knew, who was still out there and who must be prevented from finding other children, if she could manage it. She reached down and closed his helmet, covering the ruin of his face. It was the only compassion she could show him. She had work to do.
Kneeling beside her fallen foe, Ahsoka sifted through the wreckage of his lightsaber hilt. The crystals that had powered his lightsaber were no longer contained by metal, but their song had not dimmed. She held them in one hand, almost shaking as the familiarity of them coursed through her, while the other hand retrieved the half-finished hilts she carried with her.
These lightsabers wouldn’t have the decorative handles she preferred, and her grip would be affected until she had time to truly finish them. She was missing a few key components, parts that had to be specifically made, but the creature’s ruined hilt was before her. Quickly, she picked through the wreckage again, this time paying closer attention to the inner workings of the weapon, and smiled when she found what she needed. They would do for now.
Star Wars: Ahsoka Page 19
