Star Wars: Ahsoka

by Johnston, E. K.

  “Where did you come from?” Neera asked. She didn’t sound like she was expecting an answer, but Ahsoka decided to give it to her. In all likelihood, they’d find out soon enough anyway.

  “The Clone Wars,” she said. “I fought in the Clone Wars.”

  She didn’t give them any more specifics. Let them think she was part of a planetary militia. She was pretty sure that’s what Selda and Vartan thought already. They weren’t even wrong. She had been part of a planetary militia. But she’d also been a part of something else.

  There was another explosion. They couldn’t afford to wait anymore.

  “Are you ready?” she asked Neera.

  Neera held the blaster she’d gotten from Vartan in one hand and a couple of explosives in the other. Ahsoka carried most of the explosives, because she had no blaster of her own. She was sure she’d be able to pick one up after a few minutes of fighting.

  “Good luck,” she said to Miara. The younger girl swallowed hard and crouched to wait.

  Neera and Ahsoka turned and ran into the yard.

  Ahsoka’s initial tactical assessment had been immediate, instinctive, and not at all promising. Now that she could see the whole compound at once, she was no more optimistic. She had warned them that this kind of strike was a terrible idea, for exactly this reason: the farmers were outmatched, and she still wasn’t entirely sure what they were up against. They hadn’t listened. Now she had to either leave them to their fate or go to their rescue. No choice, really. Her only advantage was that they were up against the Empire’s new stormtroopers, not the formidable clones. She couldn’t use the Force for anything as showy as deflecting blaster bolts, but she could jump and she could run, and that would have to be enough.

  Most of her friends had already retreated, and Neera was rounding them up. The left side was clearing, and even the fighters on the right side were starting to retreat now that they knew their options. It was the disastrous attempt to take the front gate of the Imperial compound that was causing the biggest problem. It had ended almost before it began. As Ahsoka had suspected, the heavy artillery was too much for the ill-equipped farmers to deal with, even with the element of surprise and Miara’s explosives to back them up. The five who remained alive were pinned down, with the Imperial ground reinforcements closing in. Through the smoke, Ahsoka could see both Hoban and Kaeden crouched among the survivors. They didn’t have a lot of time, and Ahsoka was their only hope.

  She moved forward cautiously, staying as low to the ground as possible to present a minimal target for the guns that lined the compound walls. She was far enough away that the troopers couldn’t target her more easily than they could her friends, and she didn’t want to draw attention until she had to. She listened for incoming fighters but couldn’t hear anything over the noise of battle and the hammering of her own heart.

  “I am really out of practice,” she said, talking to companions who were no longer with her. She spoke out of habit, falling into the banter as easily as she took stock of her surroundings, even though there was no one left for her to banter with. She shook her head and refocused: it was not the time to get lost in the past. There were plenty of people, living people, who needed her at that moment.

  Staying behind the line of Imperial tanks, Ahsoka attached charges to every one of them she could reach. Apparently, a backwater like Raada didn’t merit entirely new weaponry, and Ahsoka knew these Clone Wars–era vehicles like the back of her hand. The charges wouldn’t destroy the tanks completely, but they should render them immobile, and Ahsoka needed all the help she could get. The explosions started just as she jumped clear of the last tank, earning her friends a momentary reprieve from bombardment.

  “This way!” she shouted, waving them toward her so that she could guide them to the questionable safety of the hills. At least it would be harder for any fighters to maneuver in there.

  The five survivors moved, but three of them were wounded, and that slowed them down. They didn’t get very far before stormtroopers from the compound caught up with them. Ahsoka engaged a trooper in hand-to-hand combat, taking him down with a vicious kick to the midsection and keeping him down with a blow to the head. Kaeden gaped at her, but Ahsoka didn’t have time for that. She picked up the fallen stormtrooper’s blaster and did her best to cover their retreat with her newly acquired weapon. Despite her best efforts, the distance between the Imperials and her friends kept shrinking.

  “Leave us!” Kaeden shouted. She was half carrying Hoban even though he was twice her size, and she was bleeding from a cut on her forehead. “You told us not to get in this mess. You shouldn’t pay for it.”

  “Not an option!” Ahsoka shouted back.

  Anything else Kaeden might have said was drowned out by an enormous explosion in front of them. A crater opened, blasted by one of the tanks that still had a working gun. It would take too long to go around the smoking hole in the ground, and if they went into it, they were as good as dead.

  “Freeze,” said the closest stormtrooper.

  “It’s our lucky day,” said Hoban sarcastically as Ahsoka lowered her gun. “They want prisoners.”

  Ahsoka didn’t have the heart to tell him it was more likely the stormtroopers just wanted clean shots. Sure enough, when she turned around she found a line of blasters and no signs of mercy.

  Obi-Wan would have had a clever remark in this situation, something that belied the danger of the moment and confused his adversaries into doubting themselves. Anakin wouldn’t have surrendered in the first place. Ahsoka usually fell somewhere between the two, but right now she didn’t have the luxury of deliberation.

  Hoban threw himself toward the line of stormtroopers. It was pointless, but Ahsoka couldn’t stop him. She heard Neera screaming behind her, but then the sound was drowned out by the whine of Imperial blasters as they ripped Hoban apart at close range. When he was dead, there was a horrible moment of silence. Someone must have shut Neera up, or dragged her far enough away that Ahsoka couldn’t hear her anymore.

  Then the Imperial lieutenant raised her hand, giving the order to fire, and Ahsoka raised hers at the same time. Since she’d started helping the Raadians organize themselves, she’d used the Force only to sense her friends and avoid her enemies. She’d been careful, contained, making sure she would not be detected. That caution was gone now. For the first time in too long, she felt the full power of the Force flow through her, and she welcomed it.

  Blasters flew backward through the air, some even dragging the stormtroopers who held them. Metal screamed as it was bent away from her and her friends, and even the ground seemed to shift as Ahsoka pushed the Imperial firing line back. The lieutenant gaped at her, staggering as if someone had struck her across the face.

  “Ashla!” Kaeden was staring at her, too, which was when Ahsoka realized exactly what she’d done.

  “Run now,” she said. “Talk later.”

  The Raadians did as they were told, making for the hills. Ahsoka lagged behind. With her cover well and truly blown, she had no qualms about continuing to deflect the heavy artillery aimed at them. It took longer than she would have liked and she could only imagine what a spectacle she made, but eventually she and the farmers reached the temporary security of the hills and the cave where they could hide until they came up with a better plan.

  As soon as Ahsoka walked into the cave, all eyes turned to her. Kaeden, who was sitting next to her sister on a medical cot, turned and bore down on her.

  “So,” she said, her eyes blazing with anger, “was there something you wanted to tell us?”

  THIS COULD STILL BE MANAGED. Fixed. Jenneth could rework his calculations, accounting for the new variables, and come up with a workable solution. He just had to know what resources were currently available. He called up the incident reports that the Imperial officers had already entered into the system and read them quickly so he could begin his extrapolations.

  The loss of the walkers was rough. They were newer than the tanks, built
since the rise of the Empire, and much better suited to patrolling, because they were operated by smaller crews and covered more ground. Without them, the stormtroopers would have to search on foot while the tanks were being repaired. At least the gun turrets were still operational. The Imperial compound was not defenseless.

  What he really needed were more stormtrooper units. Although they weren’t suited to doing any of the actual farming, they’d be more than capable of supervising the local labor. The initial plan had been implemented well, but it was time for harsher measures. Curfew, which had been laxly enforced, would be strictly monitored, and those who disobeyed would be punished. In broad daylight. Preferably in the center of town. He would also have to make sure the ringleaders were rounded up. They wouldn’t be executed—that would just make the farmers angrier—but publicized torture and visible suffering did wonders to break morale.

  He could work with that.

  What he could not work with was also his biggest problem. He hadn’t seen the raid, had in fact slept through it, but there were simply too many corroborating reports for him to discount. There had been a Force user in the uprising. She had come out of nowhere, and by all accounts she was very good. She was old enough that she must have had Jedi training. Jenneth wanted to scoff, to dismiss the notion. All the Jedi were dead. And even if some had escaped, why in the galaxy would one show up on a backwater like Raada?

  He turned the calculation in his head and found the answer. The Jedi was here because it was a backwater. She thought the Empire wouldn’t come to Raada, and he, Jenneth Pilar, had surprised her. That made him feel much better about the whole thing.

  He had no idea how to report a suspected Jedi. He would let the Imperial commander take care of that. He just had to submit his new report and analysis, and make his suggestions as soon as possible to maintain his good reputation.

  Jenneth thumbed to a blank screen on his datapad and began entering his new tabulations.

  In the end, they’d had to sedate Neera to keep her from harming herself. Ahsoka covered her with a blanket, tucked Neera’s hands underneath, and checked her breathing. Neera inhaled and exhaled quietly, at the proper rate. It wouldn’t be a solution for the long term, but for now, they needed quiet and time to think. And Ahsoka had some explaining to do.

  She sat down at the table where Kaeden and Miara were building more explosives. Neither sister looked at her, even to glare. Ahsoka sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  “My real name is Ahsoka Tano,” she said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

  Ahsoka always found it best to start with the apology and then work backward to the explanation. It was something Anakin had never mastered.

  “It’s not very safe to be like me,” she continued. “The Empire pays handsomely for Jedi, and it doesn’t show mercy.”

  “We noticed,” Miara said curtly. She still wouldn’t look up, but her hands were shaking with anger, and probably fear.

  “I never meant to put any of you in danger,” Ahsoka continued. “I didn’t think anyone would find out, and I hoped that would keep you safe.”

  “Safe?” Kaeden said. She gave up all pretense of working and looked Ahsoka right in the eye. “We’re not angry because your existence put us in danger, Ash—Ahsoka. We’re angry because you didn’t do everything you could to help us sooner.”

  It felt like Kaeden had struck her across the face. Ahsoka had done everything she could possibly think of. She’d set up a place to hide. She’d stockpiled food and water and medical supplies. She’d helped them get organized.

  But she hadn’t used the Force to save Hoban.

  “Kaeden,” she said as gently as she could manage, “even a Jedi can only do so much. And I promise I did my best to help your friends and your family.”

  “What do you even know about family?” Kaeden said. “You never had one. And you probably never had friends, either. Just clones who had to do everything you said, because you were their superior officer.”

  She stalked off before Ahsoka could think of a reply. Miara pointedly gathered up all the pieces she was working on and moved them to another table, leaving Ahsoka alone. No one would look at her or talk to her, though aside from the girls, the farmers looked more exhausted and scared than angry. Ahsoka got up and walked out of the main cave. She crawled through the tunnel that led to one of the other chambers, the one with the entryway that looked toward town, and then sat there alone, staring at the lights.

  “We take a piece, you take a piece,” she said quietly. She wasn’t sure why it helped to think of a crokin board. She’d always been able to visualize tactics in plain terms before. She decided that the difference was her comrades. The clones knew battle. It was in their blood. The farmers knew crokin. It was the easiest way she could think of to explain it to them, and now it was a habit.

  She was going to have to leave soon and confirm all Kaeden’s worst suspicions about her. If the Empire was interested in the moon before, knowing there was a Jedi on it would increase the Imperial presence tenfold. They’d be slow without their walkers, but they’d be out looking. And even the people who had stayed in town wouldn’t be safe, especially once the officers realized that the farmers had used their field crews to organize the uprising.

  Ahsoka closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She meant to meditate, but instead of the serenity she usually found, the first thing she saw was the solemn face of four-year-old Hedala Fardi. That was almost worse than the blank space where Anakin used to be. At least her former master could take care of himself. The little Fardi girl deserved much better than being forgotten.

  Blinking to regain her focus, Ahsoka made a decision. She couldn’t go back for Hedala, not now, but she could stay for Kaeden and Miara and the others for as long as possible. Her ship was still safely hidden, and now that her secret was blown anyway, she didn’t have to be subtle in any sudden escape attempts. She would stay on Raada and continue to help the farmers resist, assuming they’d let her, of course. After that night, there was a fairly decent chance they’d run her out of town themselves. She would at least stay long enough to apologize and to see if there was anything she could do for Neera.

  “Ahsoka!” The cry came from behind her. It was Miara, her voice thin with worry and tears and no small amount of resentment for having to talk to Ahsoka in the first place.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s Kaeden,” Miara gasped, winded from crawling through the tunnel. She must have done it in a hurry. “She stalked off after yelling at you, and I thought she’d gone back to the medical area to sit with Neera, but she didn’t. The door guard said he let her out, and she hasn’t come back.”

  Ahsoka whipped around, staring out at the grassy hills between the caves and town. It was too dark to see anything, and there were too many people concentrated close together for Ahsoka to get an accurate read through the Force.

  “If she goes to town, will they catch her?” Miara asked.

  “She wasn’t wearing a mask, and you can see her injury as soon as you look at her face,” Ahsoka said. “They know what she looks like. They’ll catch her for sure.”

  She didn’t add that the Imperials would torture Kaeden, too. They would assume she knew where the rest of the insurgents were hiding; they would assume she knew where Ahsoka was, and they would really, really want to catch Ahsoka.

  “What are we going to do?” Miara asked.

  “You are going to stay here with Neera,” Ahsoka said. “She is going to need a friend very badly when she wakes up, and you’re the only one she’s got right now.”

  Miara swallowed hard, but nodded.

  “You’re going to go?” she asked. “Even though Kaeden was so angry at you?”

  “Yeah,” Ahsoka said. “I’m going to go.”

  She didn’t look but assumed that Miara followed her through the tunnel to the main cave. She stopped only long enough to pick up the cache of tech pieces from where they were hidden, in case she
wasn’t able to return for them, and to reclaim the Imperial blaster she’d stolen during the battle. No one tried to stop her, and she disappeared into the dark.

  Kaeden realized her mistake almost as soon as she stepped back into town. Of course there would be more patrols, given that night’s two-pronged attack. Of course they would be actually searching now, not just showing off their presence and letting fear do the rest. Of course they would know what she looked like. At least she had stolen Miara’s hood to cover the wound on her forehead. It throbbed, but the bleeding had stopped, and the medic-trained insurgent who’d sewn her up said she probably didn’t have a concussion. Anyway, it was too late to turn back now.

  She didn’t go home. She went to Vartan’s, but he wasn’t there. He must have stayed with Selda, waiting for news. She didn’t want to try to make it to them until it was daylight. At least once curfew was over it would be easier to move around. She had just finished disarming the lock on Vartan’s door when eight stormtroopers rounded the corner at a trot. They were clearly on their way to Vartan’s house, and they were just as clearly surprised to find her instead of him, but they were not about to let the opportunity pass them by.

  “Take her,” said the one with the pauldron.

  Kaeden thought about fighting, but eight to one was not good odds. She put up a bit of resistance, but not enough that they did more than knock the wind out of her.

  “Careful with this one,” said the troop leader. “They’ll have a few questions for her back at base.”

  The way he said it made Kaeden’s blood run cold. Ahsoka, she thought, wondering if Jedi really could read minds, Ahsoka, I’m sorry. Then the commander hit her again and everything went black.

  AHSOKA WATCHED. Ahsoka waited. Ahsoka was not afraid.

  Kaeden had heard stories all her life of the cruel things men did for power. Orphaned on a remote world, and with next to nothing to her name, she’d seen more than a few of those stories play out in real life. She knew of spouses who hit. She’d seen bruises on her playmates’ eyes. One time, one of the overseers had tried to set up a food-rationing sideline, controlling everything his laborers had access to. It had fallen apart quickly—Vartan had been the one to break the overseer’s fingers—but Kaeden remembered those few days of watching her every move, and Miara’s, too, to keep out of the line of fire.