by Karen Miller
The sun was going down fast, so Rex had arranged the gunships to be positioned around the square. Their floodlights turned the dusk to noon. It was a typically efficient and thoughtful Rex action, and it made her love him more than ever.
Now he and the rest of the troops—and while some were wounded none had died—were methodically going through what remained of the village, collecting undamaged personal items and communal equipment and stacking it neatly in one of the streets bordering the square.
Sad to say, there wasn’t much.
Lined up in the road on the other side of the square were twenty-eight body bags. Sergeant Coric and Checkers had been in charge of that sad duty. The dead were being kept company by some of the weeping villagers who’d emerged from Torbel’s mine when the fighting was over. Their grief filled the Force.
Anakin, Master Kenobi and Taria sat together in the square’s designated triage area. They weren’t alone. About forty villagers had been separated from the others and were being given emergency medical treatment, too. The twilight air was full of smoke and the soft sounds of suffering.
One woman—Master Kenobi called her Sufi—insisted on shadowing the clone medics and double-checking every pill and hypo and ointment they administered. Master Kenobi had tried telling her not to worry, she could trust them, but this Sufi woman was having none of it. And she was trailed by a scrawny girl child called Greti, who had a strange Force presence and kept running back to Master Kenobi to make sure he was all right. Ahsoka thought that was quite odd.
But I can’t really blame her. He looks terrible. They all do.
They looked so bad—cut and bruised and seared in many places by blasterfire—that every time her gaze fell on them she felt her heart bump, and her breathing hitch. It brought back memories of how scared she’d been on Maridun, when Skyguy was injured, and how afraid he’d been after Master Kenobi’s never-explained mission to Zigoola. She had to keep reminding herself that the past was the past, she must focus her mind on the present.
In the present, Torbel’s villagers were scared of her.
Before she’d been hustled away by three medics, all to herself, Taria had pulled her aside. “You’re going to make them uncomfortable, Ahsoka. Don’t take it personally. These people are culturally—unsophisticated.”
No kidding. They’re looking at me like I might try and eat them, or something.
She was doing her best, but it was a little hard not to take it personally. Especially since she’d just helped save their lives.
“Ahsoka!”
Startled, she looked up. “Yes, Master Kenobi?”
He crooked a finger at her. “A moment?”
“Master?” she said, joining him, and flicked a smile at Skyguy and Taria. Even though they were hurt and exhausted they both smiled back, then looked at Master Kenobi. So did she.
The medics had given him so many chems his eyes had gone blurry. “Padawan Tano, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He turned. “Greti!”
The skinny girl was sitting beside one of the sick villagers. Hearing her name, she leapt up and came running. “Teeb?”
“Greti, this is Ahsoka,” Master Kenobi said. “She’s one of the people who saved Torbel from the droids.”
“Saved?” The girl pulled a face. “It’s burned down, Torbel is.”
“Greti.” Master Kenobi flicked the end of her nose with his fingertip. “Manners. If not for Ahsoka you’d likely be dead.”
The skinny village girl looked her up and down in silence. Then she put her hands on her hips and tipped her head to one side. “You don’t have any hair.”
“That’s right,” Ahsoka said warily. “I’m a Togruta.”
“Your skin’s a funny color, too.”
“Not where I come from.”
Now Greti twisted her fingers in her frayed tunic pockets. “Is that far away?”
Ahsoka nodded. “Very far.”
“Oh,” said Greti, and thought about that. “Can I go there?”
“Well—I suppose so,” she said. “If you want.”
“Does anyone have hair where you come from, Ahsoka?”
Skyguy and Taria were trying not to laugh. She shot them a look, then frowned at the skinny girl. “Y’know, Greti, not everybody wants hair. Not everybody needs hair. Not everybody likes hair. I don’t—”
“Obi-Wan,” said Master Windu, appearing without warning. “I’ve just—” And then he stopped, because even Master Kenobi was laughing. “What?”
Greti stared up at him. “Are you from Togruta, too?”
“No,” said Master Windu blankly. “Who does this child belong to? She needs to be kept with her family.”
Master Kenobi sobered. “My apologies, Master. Greti, go find your mam. I’ll see you again later.”
“Promise?” said the skinny girl, and threw her arms around him.
Surprised, Ahsoka watched Master Kenobi pat the girl’s back, gently. “I promise.”
As the girl scuttled away, taking her strange Force presence with her, Master Windu fixed Anakin, Master Kenobi, and Taria with his dark, intense gaze. He’d been so busy being in charge, and they’d been pounced on by the medics so fast, this was the first time he’d spoken to them since the end of the brief, intense firefight.
“I’ve just been in communication with Senator Amidala,” he said. “She’s been talking with Queen Jamillia, and they have offered refugee status to the people of Torbel.”
Anakin sat up. “They have?”
“If the villagers agree, the Supreme Chancellor has authorized Coruscant Sky to take them from here directly to Naboo. So—who do I speak to?”
Master Kenobi took a deep breath and pushed to his feet. “That would be Rikkard, Master. Excuse me.”
Ahsoka frowned as Master Kenobi walked slowly to the group of sick and injured villagers. Anakin and Taria were frowning, too. It wasn’t right, Master Kenobi without his customary, confident swagger.
“Master Windu,” said Master Kenobi, returning with another man who was streaked head to toe with dirt. “This is Teeb Rikkard, head miner and one of Torbel’s village speakers. Rikkard, this is Master Windu of the Jedi Council. He has a proposition for you, one I think you should strongly consider. Jaklin, too, if she’s feeling better.”
Master Windu nodded gravely. “Teeb Rikkard.”
“Master Windu,” said the man Rikkard. There were tears in his eyes, and his voice was unsteady. “Torbel thanks you for what you’ve done.”
“I’m sorry it was necessary,” said Master Windu. “I’m sorry you’ve lost your home. But we might have found you a new one. Please, Rikkard. Walk with me.”
Once Master Windu was out of earshot, Master Kenobi looked at Anakin. “Interesting. By any chance did you—”
“No,” Anakin said quickly. “I don’t have a comlink. But I think it’s the perfect solution. Don’t you?”
Master Kenobi stared at the ruined village, and then at the groups of uninjured villagers at the far end of the square. “It could be, yes,” he said at last. “I hope it is.” Then he sighed. “I wonder how much longer we’ll be stuck here. There’s very little I wouldn’t give right now for a hot shower and a bed.”
But Ahsoka could tell it wasn’t himself he was worried about, it was Taria. And he was right to be worried. Even full of painkillers, Master Damsin felt… wrong.
“Ahsoka,” said Anakin, his tired eyes shadowed with concern. “Since we’re grounded, why don’t you go and find out?”
She nodded. “Yes, Master. Love to.”
Because the sooner we’re off this rock, the happier we’ll all be.
And they did get off it, eventually, once all the farewells were done with. The skinny girl Greti clung to Master Kenobi, trying hard not to weep. Her mother did weep, thanking him for saving her hand, and her life. The bossy woman Sufi hugged him, nearly hard enough to break his ribs, and another woman, in an ancient antigrav harness, hugged Anakin as hard, and Master Kenobi, too. The vill
age speaker Rikkard was sad to see them go. They were all polite to Taria, but it wasn’t the same.
Watching, Ahsoka realized that Anakin and Master Kenobi must have done amazing things in Torbel, that they were loved by these odd, unsophisticated villagers.
I hope this time Skyguy tells me properly what happened.
Leaving Master Windu and the villagers behind to their discussions and decisions, they flew to Indomitable with Captain Rex and a clone medic for escort. Master Kenobi sat on a portable soft-seat, with Taria dozing against his shoulder. Standing beside Anakin, Ahsoka stared out of the gunship’s rear viewport at Lanteeb, falling fast behind them. Lifting his hand, Anakin wriggled his fingers.
“Good-bye, and good riddance,” he murmured.
Which pretty much said it all.
TWELVE HOURS AFTER BOARDING Indomitable, having bathed and slept and eaten a decent meal in the first time since, well, it felt like forever, Obi-Wan reported to the Battle Operations Room for a holoconference with Palpatine. Anakin and Taria went with him, Master Windu returned from Lanteeb to attend, and of course Yularen was there. Not Ahsoka, though. She’d gone back to Lanteeb with Rex. There was still a deal of work planetside to be done.
Catching himself worrying about Greti, again, Obi-Wan pulled his focus back where it belonged. Waifs and strays. He was getting as bad as Qui-Gon.
“—disappointing that Lok Durd managed to reach General Grievous and escape,” the Supreme Chancellor was saying, “but all in all, I think it’s best we count our blessings. Master Kenobi—”
Obi-Wan bowed. “Supreme Chancellor.”
“As the senior Jedi on this mission, you are to be congratulated on its success. And you have my most heartfelt personal gratitude, for managing to keep young Anakin in one piece.”
He bowed again, acutely aware of Anakin beside him. “It was my pleasure, Supreme Chancellor. Though this entire mission was very much a joint effort.”
“It certainly was,” said Palpatine. “And I have expressed my appreciation to the captains of the ships who joined you in your hour of need, Admiral Yularen. Senators Organa and Amidala are certainly to be commended for their ingenuity. But I must say, I am concerned that what they’ve done here sets a precedent that might in the future represent a threat to the security of the Republic. We do have a Grand Army—and of course, our splendid Jedi. So I think it’s fair to say that this mission was one for the books, and not to be repeated.”
“I’m pleased to hear you say so, Supreme Chancellor,” said Admiral Yularen. “I couldn’t agree more about the danger it implies.”
“We’ll discuss that further at a later date, Admiral,” said Palpatine. “For now, let us just appreciate the results of a job well done, shall we? Master Windu?”
Master Windu’s face went still. “Supreme Chancellor.”
“I’d appreciate your immediate return to Kothlis,” said Palpatine. “The Ruling Council has been most understanding, but I prefer not to impose on their good graces any longer.”
Obi-Wan felt the Jedi Master’s irritation. “I’ll do that, Supreme Chancellor,” Windu said. “But with Admiral Yularen’s battle group still mopping up on Lanteeb, perhaps you’d permit me a slight detour via Coruscant?”
“To bring our triumphant Jedi home? Of course,” said Palpatine, broadly smiling. “In fact, Master Windu, I believe I insist. Anakin—”
“Supreme Chancellor,” Anakin said, almost wary.
But Palpatine had himself in hand. “My dear boy—what can I say but well done, and thank the Force you’re all right.”
“Thank you, Supreme Chancellor.”
“Now,” said Palpatine, “before we conclude, I have someone with me who’d like a quick word.”
A pause, and then Padmé’s image appeared on the holodisplay. Feeling Anakin’s swift interest, Obi-Wan flicked him a glance. Settle down.
Padmé was smiling. Radiant. “Master Kenobi, it’s so good to see you. I understand the people of Torbel have accepted Queen Jamillia’s offer to resettle on Naboo?”
“They have, Senator. And I thank you for arranging it.”
“It was the least I could do, after what they did for you and—and Anakin. I look forward to hearing the full story upon your return. So does Senator Organa. He asked me to compliment you on yet another remarkable escape.”
Obi-Wan nodded. I’ll bet he did. “Thank you, Senator. And we look forward to telling you all about the mission—when time permits.”
Which wouldn’t be soon, if he had his way. The less time she and Anakin spent together, the better… for all their sakes.
Padmé was a phenomenally intelligent woman. She knew what he meant. “Yes,” she said, after a moment. “Of course.”
And on that note, the holoconference ended.
“Anakin,” said Master Windu. “Yoda wants you back in the Temple, but I’d like to leave your Padawan down on Lanteeb to keep an eye on the Five Hundred First. I think you’ll agree she can handle herself.”
Obi-Wan waited for Anakin to object, but instead he nodded. “Yes, Master Windu. I trust her implicitly.”
“As you should,” said Windu, briskly pleased. “Now, I need to sort out a few things with the admiral. Don’t go far.”
As Master Windu took Yularen aside, Obi-Wan turned to Taria. “Still got your comlink?”
Pumped full of chemicals by Indomitable’s med droids, she looked almost healthy again. It was a terrible lie. Dressed like him, in drab gray Fleet overalls, her fabulous hair clean and shining and strictly contained, not a soul looking at her would guess she had only weeks to live.
But I’m not going to spoil this. I’m not.
“My comlink?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Yes. Why?”
“Anakin needs to give Ahsoka the good news.”
She gave Anakin her comlink. “Tell her well done from me. Go Green team. She’ll understand.”
“Will do,” said Anakin, and withdrew to comm Ahsoka.
“So, Obi-Wan,” Taria said softly, and rested her hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
He was far from all right. And of course Taria knew that, which was why she’d asked. But there’d be time for debriefings back at the Temple. Time to think of the fallen, and mourn them, and find ways to honor those who’d made mistakes—and paid a terrible price to undo them. Time to come to terms with the loss of his friend. It was a journey he’d started in Torbel’s sick house, but he still had a long way to go.
I’m not even sure it’s a journey I can finish.
Knowing she’d let him, just this once, he lied. “Yes. I’m fine.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You need more rest.”
“After the war. Taria—” Palpatine hadn’t acknowledged what she’d done. What she’d sacrificed. It made him angry. “You saved so many lives. And now—”
“No regrets,” she said, under her breath. Her fingers tightened on his arm, and she tried to smile. “How can there be? Obi-Wan—”
Then Master Windu returned, and the moment was lost.
“Right,” Windu said, as Yularen toggled the bridge and told them he was on his way. “I think we’re done here. Anakin!”
Anakin joined them. “Master.”
“You’ve spoken to your Padawan?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good.” Master Windu smiled, fiercely. “Then let’s go. We’ll hop a gunship over to Dagger and make best speed for home.”
Turning, he headed for the hatch, Taria falling into step beside him. One warm, affectionate glance over her shoulder, and she was gone.
“Home,” said Anakin. “That’s got a nice ring to it.” He was smiling broadly, a hint of mischief in his eyes and a sense of excitement, quickly tamped down. And then the smile faded. “So, Obi-Wan. We survived another one.”
Not all of us.
But that wasn’t Anakin’s problem. With a wrenching effort, he pulled his mind from the pain and loss that were crouched ahead in the shadows, waiting. Inescapabl
e.
“Yes, we did, Anakin,” he agreed. “By the skin of our teeth.”
“Yeah…” Anakin shook his head. “Y’know, I’m starting to think we need a new hobby.”
He was tired, he was sad, but still—“Trust me, Anakin,” he said lightly, “on that score, you’ll get no argument from me.”
And then they grinned at each other. No need to say more.
“Kenobi!” Master Windu shouted from the corridor. “Have you forgotten what best speed means?”
“Oops,” said Anakin, and extended his hand with a flourish. “After you, Master Kenobi.”
“No, no, Master Skywalker,” he replied. “I insist. After you.”
Side by side, they walked out of the room.