“But we’re not family,” Ahsoka protested.
Miara looked at her, an expression on her face that was almost hurt. Ahsoka had seen families before. She had saved families before. But it had been a while since she’d had one. It wasn’t the Jedi way. She had been deeply loved on her home planet, but that was so long ago that all she could remember was the feeling of it, not the practical results.
“There’s two kinds of family,” Miara said after a moment. “There’s the kind like me and Kaeden, where you get born in the right place to the right people and you’re stuck with one another. If you’re lucky, it turns out okay. The other kind of family is the kind you find.”
Ahsoka thought about how the clones, even ones who had never met, defaulted to calling each other “brother.” She had thought it was because of their genetics and military connection, but maybe it was something else.
“Kaeden and me, we were alone,” Miara continued. “But then Vartan hired Kaeden. He didn’t have to. He didn’t have to pay her full wage, either. But he did. All sorts of bad things could have happened to us when our parents died, but instead we got a new family.”
Ahsoka considered this.
“Now, I don’t expect you to tell me who died,” Miara went on. “But clearly someone did. Kaeden said you were adopted, which means you lost family twice. So now you get us.”
The younger girl was so determined that Ahsoka couldn’t bring herself to correct her. She wasn’t looking for a family, but Master Yoda had taught her that sometimes you found things you weren’t expecting, and it only made sense to use them when you did. The people on Raada protected their own, with none of the violence or cruelty or cold-blooded calculation Ahsoka had seen at work in the Core. Maybe it was a good idea to take advantage of it, even though thinking about using her new friends on those terms made her a little uncomfortable. She looked at Miara, who was installing the final part of the lock.
“Isn’t that sort of, I don’t know, unfair?” Ahsoka asked, with exaggerated care. They didn’t even know her real name, after all. “I mean, I just show up and you guys take me on?”
“Well,” Miara said, “it’s not like you aren’t useful to have around. Everyone’s tech works better after you finish with it, and that keeps Hoban’s head from getting too big.”
Ahsoka laughed. She supposed that was true.
In the distance, the horn sounded. Miara started to pack up her things.
“I’ve got to run,” she said. “We’re on the evening shift this week, so you’re on your own for dinner for a bit. The lock’s ready though. You just need to set the key. Tap your finger here.”
Ahsoka did as she was told, and the lock turned green.
“Excellent,” said Miara. “I mean, it won’t keep out anyone who is really determined, but you’ll know someone broke in, and they’ll get quite the shock when they do.” Miara’s locks, it turned out, could be a little vindictive.
“Thanks,” Ahsoka said.
Miara finished packing up and went on her way, leaving Ahsoka alone with a new lock and a host of new thoughts to tumble around in her head. She looked at the vaporator she was supposed to fix that afternoon and decided that she had spent too much time indoors during the past week. The tedium of an agricultural community was starting to wear on her. Oh, the Jedi had their rituals and obscure traditions, too, but Ahsoka was accustomed to those. Raada was a new kind of boredom, and Ahsoka never did well when she was bored. It was time to check on her cave and see what else she might find in the area.
She packed everything she would need for the day in the new bag Neera had given her when Ahsoka fixed the caf maker in the house Neera shared with her brother. She put in a ration pack, even though she had fresh food, too, and attached her water canteen to her hip, right beside where one of her lightsabers used to hang. She wrapped up all the metal pieces she’d collected since the last time she went out to the cave and put them in the bag, as well, then hoisted it onto her shoulders. It was much more comfortable than her last bag. Neera had altered it so it wouldn’t rub against her lekku.
As Ahsoka made her way out of town, she passed quite a few farmers on their way to the fields. Several of them greeted her with Ashla’s name, and she waved back with a smile that wasn’t forced at all. She walked past all the houses and the few little gardens that lined the edge of town. Why farmers would want to garden in their spare time was beyond Ahsoka, but she had strange hobbies, too—except that hers were secret.
Whatever Miara might say, Ahsoka didn’t think that families and secrets went well together, and she was much better practiced in the latter than she was in the former. Kaeden had already begun to ask leading questions, hinting that she’d like to know more about where Ashla had come from and what she did when she disappeared from town. Ahsoka did her best to change the subject. The hard part was that Ahsoka found she actually wanted to talk to Kaeden and tell her all sorts of things. They didn’t have any life experiences in common, but Kaeden was a good listener, even though neither of them could solve the other’s problems. Moreover, talking to someone who was mostly untroubled by the largeness of the galaxy helped Ahsoka focus, and she was having trouble with that sort of thing these days, even when she tried to meditate.
She was unbalanced, Ahsoka decided, pulled in too many directions by her new feelings and her old grief. What she needed was to recenter herself, and meditation was the best way to do that. She’d avoided those kinds of exercises for a while now, because she didn’t like what she saw when she did them, but if she was going to regain control of her life, she was going to have to regain control of her meditations, as well. She could use that focus to make sure she didn’t wander into a vision or memory, and in her regular life, it would help her keep her thoughts in order, not to mention keeping her tuned to the Force.
She felt calmer almost the moment she passed the last house, when the noise of feet and machinery was replaced by the whispering grass and the promise of solitude. A few clouds dotted the sky, and it was windy but still mild enough for Ahsoka not to feel the weather bite at her. It was, she decided, a good day for a run.
She tightened the straps on the pack Neera had made for her and then threw back her head and took off. The wind whistled past her as she picked up speed, and she felt like, if she could go fast enough, she might be able to fly clear off the moon’s surface. She laughed, half in exhilaration and half at her own silliness: if she wanted to fly, she could just take her ship and fly. And anyway, she couldn’t run as fast as she was capable, because she couldn’t use the Force in the open. Even without the Force, it took much less time than before for her to reach the hills, and she slowed to a walk so she wouldn’t miss the signs that led her to her cave.
Ahsoka retraced her steps, noticing more places where caves were cut into the stone. She wondered if any of them were connected. Hers wasn’t, which was one of the reasons she liked it; but it might be useful to have more of a network, and those caves were more likely to have natural water sources that didn’t rely on technology.
“Who exactly do you think is going to need these caves?” she asked herself.
She ignored her own question and ducked through the entrance to her hiding spot.
Everything was exactly as she’d left it, from the stone slab concealing her small pieces of tech to the footprints on the floor. She added the new pieces to the collection, her hand hovering over them as if she could build something, and then replaced the cover. Then she went to the middle of the cave and sat on the floor, her legs tucked under her.
She breathed in and out slowly, the way Master Plo had shown her all those years before when they had first met. She had been so confused back then, and more than a little scared. The slaver who had intercepted her village’s signal to the Jedi and come to take her had been frightening, but the instant Ahsoka had laid eyes on Jedi Master Plo Koon, she had known she could trust him. Training with the Jedi as a youngling had fully restored her self-confidence, but at the same time
it made her reckless and brash. It wasn’t until she became a Padawan to Anakin Skywalker, and had to leave the Temple again, that she finally understood that the galaxy could be calm and tempestuous, safe and dangerous at the same time. The key, as always, was finding balance.
She did her best to think about that balance right now. She focused on her breathing and the moon she sat on. She reached out through its grasses and felt the sun, encouraging her to grow. She found the little gardens, each plant given special attention to ensure good health, and understood the farmers who tended them a little better. And she spread out across the fields, feeling the order in straight-ploughed furrows and organized harvesting. The bare fields were being turned again for new seed as the growing season shifted. Soon the threshing would be done and the crews would move to other work.
Raada’s small wealth was on the ground, so Ahsoka didn’t think to look up until the stones around her began to shake. If she hadn’t been meditating, she wouldn’t have noticed, but so deeply connected to the planet, she felt it more keenly then she felt her own body. There was something in the air.
Ahsoka’s consciousness raced back across the grasslands to where she was sitting and found the cave walls and floor trembling. It wasn’t the dangerous sort of shake, only the warning kind, and Ahsoka was glad for the advance knowledge. She stood slowly to work out the kinks in her neck and knees and stretched her hands above her head. Her fingers touched the roof of the cave, and she felt immediately grounded in her body and the physical awareness of her surroundings. Something was terribly wrong.
She left the cave, and as much as she wanted to race to the hilltop, she made herself be cautious. Standing on top of her own hiding place would be rash and she needed to be careful. She walked for several minutes, the shaking in her bones getting more and more pronounced, and then climbed to the top of another hill.
As Ahsoka looked toward the settlement, her heart sank. Hovering over the houses, dwarfing them in every way, was an Imperial Star Destroyer. She could see smaller ships emerging from its hangars and making for the surface of the moon. She knew they carried troops and weapons and all kinds of other dangers.
She thought she had gone far enough. She thought she had more time. But she was trapped again, and she would need to figure out what to do next.
The Empire had arrived.
HER FIRST INSTINCT WAS TO RUN. She was a good fighter, but she also knew when she was overmatched. Raada was remote; there was no need for an Imperial presence, especially one so heavy, unless the Empire had a good reason. A living Jedi—however inaccurate that designation—would certainly give the Empire cause. Even as she mentally calculated how long it would take to get to her ship, Ahsoka forced herself to slow down, to think—focus—before she reacted.
The Empire had no reason to suspect she was on Raada. Officially, Ahsoka Tano was dead, or at least presumed so. Even if someone had traced her to Thabeska, no one there had known her true name or her destination when she left. The modifications she’d made to the ship she’d stolen from the Fardis would have rendered it almost impossible to track. There was no need for her to act rashly. She’d leapt at the chance to leave Thabeska and in doing so had left something important undone. She didn’t want to make the same mistake again.
The walk back to town was long, and Ahsoka felt exposed the whole way. She watched as more and more Imperial ships landed, cutting off her escape, but she refused to panic. She would make calculated decisions this time, and to do that, she needed information. She didn’t bother going home first, as it was already late afternoon. Instead, she went to Selda’s, where she knew she was most likely to hear something useful.
The cantina was nearly empty when she arrived, as the crews were still making their way back into town after their shift. Ahsoka was going to head for her friends’ usual table in the back but paused when Selda waved her into a seat at the bar. She trusted the older Togruta, knew it the same way she’d known to trust Master Plo, so she sat.
Ahsoka spent most of the early evening perched on one of the barstools. Though this meant her back was to the door, it had its advantages: when you don’t look at people, they assume you can’t hear them. She overheard several conversations about Imperial theories that were not intended for her ears. Selda, from his place behind the bar, kept watch under the guise of his usual work. The system functioned pretty well.
They hadn’t even talked about it, which was the strangest part. Ahsoka had just parked on the stool, Selda had nodded, and they’d begun. It was the sort of thing she might have done with Anakin, though espionage with Anakin Skywalker always ended with explosions, and Ahsoka had no intention of going that far. When two armored troopers and two uniformed officers walked in, she decided it was time to retreat somewhere less conspicuous. She needed only to learn as much as possible about what was going on, not get involved in any messes.
The cantina door opened again, and Kaeden came in, the rest of her crew behind her. It gave Ahsoka the excuse she needed to move. Selda had kept some food hot for the workers and carried it to their usual spot in the back as soon as he saw them enter.
“Hey, Ashla,” Kaeden said quietly as she passed, and Ahsoka fell into step beside her.
“How was your day?” Ahsoka asked as they all sat down around the table.
“Tense,” Vartan said, nodding in the direction of the Imperials. “Lot of new people come to watch.”
“Hoban, get the crokin board,” Neera ordered.
It was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Hoban did as he was told without protest. As he returned with the enormous hexagonal board, Ahsoka saw the cleverness of Neera’s idea: the board was shaped in such a way that the players moved around it. They would have reasons to put their heads together and talk, and it would look like they were only lining up the next shot. Hoban spilled the little round discs onto the board and sorted them by color. They began to play.
“How many new friends did you make today, Kaeden?” Ahsoka asked.
“None,” Kaeden grumbled. “The troopers don’t talk very much, and the officers seem to think we’re beneath them.”
She flicked a disc, and it lodged behind one of the pegs that protruded from the board. Neera huffed. It would be difficult to hit the piece. Hoban lined up a shot.
“They wouldn’t talk to any of the crew leads, either,” Vartan said. “We went to collect payroll and they were there, but whatever they want, it doesn’t involve us at all.”
“Oh,” said Hoban, “it’ll involve us, all right.”
He flicked his disc. It bounced off one of the pegs and settled without hitting Kaeden’s piece first, so he cleared it off the board. Malat lined up her shot and sunk the disc in the center of the board with little visible effort. Her points registered on the scoreboard and the celebratory song played. She fiddled with a wire until the sound cut out.
“I heard them at the fueling station,” Miara said. Her shot missed Kaeden’s piece, too, so she removed her disc. “They were asking about how fast things grow and how much we can plant at a time.”
“Even Imperials have to eat,” Neera said. “Do you think troopers grow on trees?”
A shudder ran down Ahsoka’s spine.
“Are the troopers clones?” she asked, hoping she sounded casual enough. They were being aged out of the Imperial army, she knew, but it had only been a little more than a year, so it was possible that some of the newer ones were still active.
“I don’t think so,” Vartan said. “They didn’t take off their helmets, so I can’t be sure, but I heard them talking among themselves and they all sounded different.”
Ahsoka always thought the clones sounded different, but Yoda said that was because she took the time to really listen to them. Still, if Vartan could tell them apart, that was probably a good sign for her own security. It was her turn, so she lined up a shot, aiming the same way Malat had. It occurred to her that it would be very easy to cheat at crokin if she used the Force, but now
was not the time for experimentation.
Her shot went long, skimming over the center of the board and landing on the opponents’ side. Hoban gloated. Now his team had something much easier to aim for. Neera took Ahsoka’s piece with no problem and ricocheted her own piece behind a peg. Now it was up to Kaeden to make the hard shot.
Ahsoka had never played crokin before she arrived on Raada, though everyone claimed it was a very popular game. She found it oddly comforting. It could be played in teams or with just a pair, and the goals were twofold: get your own pieces on the board, but stay aware of your opponent, and knock any of your opponent’s pieces off it. It was a good strategy game, and she thought Obi-Wan would have liked it. He was the more patient of her teachers.
“How long have those Imperials been here?” Vartan asked. He wasn’t playing and instead just sat at their table, looking every bit the indulgent crew lead letting his people relax after a good day’s work.
“They got here just a moment before you did,” Ahsoka said. “They’re still on their first round, and they haven’t spoken to anyone since they gave Selda their order. The stormtroopers haven’t sat down, and the officers just watch.”
“Not exactly subtle,” said Miara. Kaeden had missed her shot, and now Hoban was trying again.
“I don’t think the Empire goes for subtle,” Neera said.
“But why here?” Kaeden said. “I mean, there are better planets for food than Raada. We’re tiny. We don’t produce that much for export.”
There was a very heavy silence. Malat’s long fingers hesitated on her shot, and Ahsoka knew she was thinking of her children. Even though Ahsoka’s concern for her own safety was no longer immediate, she had a bad feeling about this.
“I think it might be smart to start accumulating ration packs,” Ahsoka said. She tried to sound knowledgeable but not expert. She wanted them to listen to her, not follow her orders. “If the Imperials start to dip into the food you grow to eat here, there isn’t going to be a lot you can do to stop them.”
Star Wars: Ahsoka Page 5