Suddenly, a bolt of blue-white fire shot past Ketsu’s shoulder and hit the trooper square in the chest.
“Thanks!” Ketsu shouted to Sabine. “I’ll get the kid—cover me!”
“Got it!” Sabine yelled back. She fired on the troopers steadily, deflecting their blasts with her panel shield. Ketsu raced toward the crate and pulled the crying child out, cradling him to her chest as Sabine covered her back. Ketsu dove behind the crate, still holding the boy. Sabine snatched Ketsu’s blaster from the ground and flung it at her friend. Ketsu’s hand shot up from behind the crate and caught it.
Sabine crouched behind the opened doors where they’d come in and thumbed her comlink.
“Spectre-Two! We could use some help in here! The mission’s gotten a lot more complicated!”
Thank goodness, Hera was on the comm. Sabine breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Spectre-2’s strong voice. She knew she could count on Hera.
“On our way, Spectre-Five.”
Sabine suddenly saw a trooper creeping up to the crate, blaster aimed.
“Ketsu!” she shouted.
Ketsu shoved the crate to the side and flung herself in front of the boy, shielding him. The trooper’s blaster fire hit Ketsu in the shoulder. The boy yelped with fear. Ketsu fired at the trooper, but thanks to her injured shoulder, her aim was off.
Her friend needed an assist, Sabine could tell—and now. Wriggling like a snake, she slid over to the crate on her belly, propped herself up on her elbows, and blasted the trooper between the shoulder blades. He crumpled to the floor with a grunt.
“Hang on, guys!” Sabine yelled. “Hera’s on her way!”
Ketsu looked at the troopers closing in around them. “And just how long until she gets here?”
Her words were lost in the roar of massive engines. Seconds later, a gray ship swooped down from above. Exhaust and engine steam filled the air.
Sabine grinned. “Not long!”
The Ghost fired a blast from its cannon as the back hold ramp lowered. The droid Chopper beeped at them to hurry.
Sabine wanted to hug the battered orange-and-white astromech droid. Instead, she grabbed the little boy in her arms. Ketsu let off blast after blast at the remaining troopers to give Sabine cover.
“Go! Go!” she shouted.
Crouching, Sabine ran toward the Ghost with the little boy bouncing over her shoulder. Blue-white streams of light zinged by her head as she ran up the boarding ramp and scrambled into the hold. Ketsu, firing over her shoulder, flung herself into the ship as Chopper hit the button to raise the ramp.
Sabine braced herself and the boy as the Ghost’s massive engines fired up and sent the ship soaring into the sky.
She exhaled. They’d done it. They’d rescued the boy. Ketsu looked over from her position by the door. Her face was smeared with soot and the shoulder of her armor was marred with blast marks, but the old, familiar grin lit her face.
“We did it, partner,” she said. Sabine lifted her hand in a high five.
Then the little boy struggled to his feet, holding the wall for balance.
“Thank you,” he said in a high, musical voice. He snuffled through his little bat-like snout. Sabine ruffled his hair.
“No problem,” she told him. “Hey, go on up to the bridge. Chopper will take you. You can see how this thing flies.”
The little boy’s face broke into the first smile they’d seen from him since they found him, and he ran off into the ship with the droid whirring behind.
Hera strode into the hold, a smile on her face.
“Nice work, team,” she told them, hands on her hips. “I thought the two of you would be stronger together.”
“It was fun, working together again.” Sabine rested her arms on her up-drawn knees.
“I’m glad I could still be a teammate to you, Wren,” Ketsu said in a low voice. “I…I wanted to be.”
Sabine looked over at her old friend while Hera watched them both.
“You were. You really were a teammate. I couldn’t have done it without you. Hera was right. Two can be stronger than one.”
“How about you, Ketsu?” Hera broke in. “How did it feel fighting for the Rebellion?”
A grin cracked Ketsu’s sooty face. “You know, it didn’t feel all that bad. Being a part of something that fights for good—it’s been a long time. Too long, I think.”
Sabine smiled back at her friend. “I think so, too.”
“Stop fidgeting!” Sabine crouched over Ketsu’s shoulder, painting in short, swift strokes.
“I’m almost done.” She swiped on the last coat of yellow and set down the brush.
“There!”
Ketsu craned her neck, and together they looked at the Phoenix Squadron symbol painted on her armor—over the spot where the Black Sun mark had once been. Ketsu exhaled.
“It’s perfect.”
She stood up, straight and tall, and offered her hand.
Sabine faced her friend and slapped her hand into Ketsu’s.
“Welcome to the Rebellion.”
A Message from Maz:
Our fire is getting low. I have some wood there, my friend. Put on a few sticks. Pine. They will crackle in the night and send up showers of sparks to light our way. We’ve been talking so long our tea got cold! Put your hand on my cup—cold, isn’t it? You stoke the fire. I’ll heat this last bit of tea.
As I was saying…sometimes, small deeds are what really matters. These simple gestures can be the kindest. And that kindness—well, that can make you into a hero. Doing something for a friend can be the most heroic gesture of all.
Padmé hurried along the white marble corridor of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, her footsteps echoing off the soaring walls and high, open ceiling, her purple cloak floating behind her.
Ahsoka Tano’s quarters were at the end of the corridor.
I hope she agrees to help me, Padmé thought. I need her.
Padmé stopped in front of the closed door and knocked twice on the smooth metal.
“Yes?” Ahsoka’s familiar voice came from within. “Please come in.”
Padmé slid the door open. “Ahsoka, I came—”
She stopped. “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were meditating.”
Ahsoka sat very still in the middle of the room, cross-legged on the floor. A thin sleeping pad covered neatly with a blanket, a side table, and a simple cabinet were the only objects in the room. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds on one wall.
“I am finished now,” Ahsoka said, opening her eyes. She rose to her feet.
“It’s so good to see you, Senator. But I’m surprised you’ve come here to the Temple. Is everything all right?”
Padmé shook her head and strode to the window. She looked out at the busy Coruscant streets below.
“No, I’m afraid it isn’t. Tomorrow, I am giving a dinner party for the Arthurian delegates.”
“And you want me to keep an eye out?” Ahsoka asked.
“Just a quick check of my building beforehand,” Padmé said.
“It shouldn’t take long. I know it’s a big favor—”
“Not for you,” Ahsoka said, cutting her off.
“You’ve been on my mind lately, Padmé. I’ve heard about the possible assassination plots against you. And I’m happy to help. But you have Captain Typho. Surely he can secure the premises.”
“No, I want you.” Padmé took Ahsoka’s hand in hers.
“I need the talents of a Jedi, and I trust you completely. Besides, you’re the best. You’re very skilled, you know. Please. As a favor to me.”
Ahsoka paused, then nodded.
“Of course, Padmé. I would be honored to protect you.”
Padmé exhaled. “Thank you, Ahsoka. You are generous. This event is very important. Nothing can go wrong.”
The next evening, Padmé looked up from the platter of fruit she was arranging in the kitchen. There were footsteps on the stairs. Ahsoka must be done checking outside the
building. The Padawan had already finished her check of Padmé’s home and declared it safe.
Padmé nestled the last berries into place and walked out of the kitchen, the platter in her hands. The spacious blue rooms almost glowed in the golden light from the setting sun. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the skyscrapers of Coruscant glittered like spears of crystal.
Inside, soft music played and the scent from various arrangements of flowers, placed on every surface, filled the rooms. Padmé glanced at a mirror on the wall. She was glad she’d decided to wear the simple cream-colored jumpsuit with the matching cape. Her hair was drawn back in a sleek bun.
“Padmé?” Ahsoka came in the open door. “I just finished securing the outside of the building. Everything is clear.”
She quickly rubbed at a streak of dirt down the side of her tunic. Padmé pretended not to see. She could tell Ahsoka sometimes felt out of place in elegant surroundings.
Padmé smiled and placed the platter on the long dining table, which sparkled with expensive goblets and plates.
“I appreciate your helping me, Ahsoka.” She smiled.
“These negotiations with the Arthurian delegates are critical, and there are a lot of people who don’t want them to happen. You know, it might not be such a bad idea if you stick around.”
Padmé followed Ahsoka’s gaze as the Togruta girl glanced around the apartment at the big roomy couches, the handwoven rugs, the carved wood side tables rubbed to a soft glow. Bowls of fruits and sweets were elegantly arranged on a long side table, where a server in a simple black robe was setting up a vase of lilies and vines. Ahsoka shook her head.
“Thank you, Padmé, but it’s not really my place to mingle with politicians.”
Padmé opened her mouth to press the issue, then nodded and took the girl’s hand instead. “Next time then. I insist.” Ahsoka looked both relieved and disappointed. She bowed her head in respect and turned toward the door. Then she stopped. Padmé frowned.
“What is it?”
“The table. Something is strange about the table.”
Ahsoka stepped toward it, studying its contents, then looked back up at Padmé.
“Why did you set it with utensils? The Arthurian delegates never use them and might find it insulting.”
Padmé glanced at the long dining table. The Padawan was right. Forks, knives, and spoons were at each place setting.
“I’m not sure why the utensils are out. I was very specific in my instructions not to use them.”
Padmé could see Ahsoka’s body tense up. A little zing of tension ran through Padmé.
“Excuse me!” she called to the server woman in the black robe.
The woman turned and drew a blaster. For a long moment, no one moved. Then Ahsoka grabbed Padmé, pulling her behind the table, and the server fired.
“Padmé? Is she on the guest list?”
“No, she is not!” Padmé shouted, and leapt back as Ahsoka threw her arm across Padmé, just as the woman ran toward them, her face twisted into a snarl—and then twisted into something else. The server’s face suddenly transformed into that of the shape-shifting bounty hunter Cato Parasitti. Ahsoka shoved Padmé backward toward the wall and flung herself in front of the senator. Padmé gasped, her heart pounding.
Cato lunged forward with frightening speed. Padmé had encountered Cato before but had forgotten how fast the bounty hunter could move. Ahsoka threw herself to the right and grabbed Padmé, still pressed against the wall. Pain throbbed through Padmé’s elbow as Ahsoka once again threw her behind the big dining table.
“How did she—” Padmé tried to say, but the rest of her words were drowned out when Ahsoka grabbed one of the wooden chairs and hurled it at Cato. The bounty hunter tangled with the chair for an instant—all the time Ahsoka needed to draw her lightsabers.
Padmé, weaponless, crouched behind the table. Her hands itched for her blaster. The bounty hunter, her own blaster in hand, fired once more.
“Uhhh!” Ahsoka ducked, the blast barely missing her. It shot into the drapes and they burst into flames.
Ahsoka ignited both her lightsabers as Cato fired off another blast. Ahsoka deflected it with a swift upward jab—a move Padmé suspected Anakin had taught her—and walked forward, swinging the lightsabers in front of her as Cato fired blast after blast. The air filled with smoke from the burning drapes. Sweat ran down the sides of Ahsoka’s face. Grunting, she forced Cato back step by step. Cato drew a small object out of a pouch on her belt.
Padmé crept forward through the debris. If she could get to Cato from behind, knock her down—suddenly, she spotted something large and gray attached to the underside of the table. Padmé stared at it, her eyes stinging from the smoke. It was a cube, metal and blinking with red lights. She placed her hand on it and felt a vibration, deep inside, as if the cube was ticking. Suddenly, she knew what it was—and what Cato was holding.
“Ahsoka!” she screamed, running her hands over the cube, looking for a button, a latch, anything. The Togruta girl whirled around.
“A bomb!” Padmé shouted. “She’s planted a bomb! She’s holding the detonator. I can’t disarm it!”
“Send it to me!” Ahsoka shouted.
With all her strength, Padmé pushed the table toward Ahsoka.
Ahsoka brought her lightsaber down on the table, slicing a circle around the bomb. She concentrated and Force-pushed the cut-out bomb across the room and through one of the big windows.
A massive explosion shook the room as the bomb exploded outside in midair. Behind Ahsoka, the bounty hunter whirled and ran for the exit.
“The door!” Padmé shouted, alerting Ahsoka.
Ahsoka turned. Cato sprinted past the broken table. Padmé scrambled up and grabbed a heavy metal vase. She swung hard, catching Cato full in the face. With a grunt, the bounty hunter fell, smacking her head on the stone floor. She twitched, then lay still.
Ahsoka slid to a halt, lightsabers still at the ready in her hands. Silence descended, broken only by the crackling of flames. Padmé ran to the window and jerked down the burning curtains. She stamped out the flames. The only sounds were the thumps of her feet and her heavy breathing. Finally, the fire was out.
Panting, Padmé walked over to stand next to Ahsoka. Together, they looked down at Cato. Her eyes were closed. She moaned and stirred, then lay still again.
Ahsoka looked at Padmé. “That was a nice trick there, with the vase. You know, you remind me a lot of Anakin sometimes.”
Padmé looked down at her white jumpsuit, now scorched and smeared with soot. She reached a hand up to feel her bun, her hair now falling down her back. She smiled. Ahsoka’s comment meant a lot to her.
“Thank you, Ahsoka,” she said. “May I say, it was my own good luck you were here tonight.”
They both looked around at the destroyed apartment. Chunks of broken plates and glass shards lay all over the floor. The wind blew through the window where the bomb had gone through it. The sofa was on its side. Just then, the lighting fixture fell from the ceiling, shattering on the stone floor.
Ahsoka winced. “I’m sorry about the party, Padmé.”
Padmé grinned. “Well, it looks like these negotiations will have to be postponed.”
Ahsoka laughed, her face relaxing. “In that case, I guess I will stay. I’d hate to see all that food go to waste.”
Padmé handed her a broom, and together they started to clean up the mess.
A Message from Maz:
The tea is almost gone. Soon there will be only wet leaves left in the bottom of the kettle. Here, have the last drop. You have listened to many stories. Oh, thank you. I’ll take one last pour. The last bit in the kettle is the strongest. You know, being a hero means…stepping forward. No matter the outcome. Aaahh. Perfect tea. Thank you. And thank you for listening to my stories, my friend.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EMMA CARLSON BERNE has written many books for children and young adults, including historical fiction, sports
fiction, romances, and mysteries. She writes and runs after her three little boys in Cincinnati, Ohio.
Star Wars Forces of Destiny: Daring Adventures, Volume 1 Page 3
