by Karen Miller
“Yes, Rikkard, good idea,” said Obi-Wan. “And everyone else should stay calm. Have you put the evacuation plan in place?”
“There’s some not too happy about it,” said Rikkard, scowling. “But yes. It’s all set.”
“Rikkard—” Obi-Wan grasped the man’s bony shoulder. “I thought we’d agreed the mine would be the safest place for people to hide.”
“We know you’re worried about the raw damotite,” Anakin added. “There aren’t enough protective suits, you’ve run out of herbal pills, and people are already weakened from the toxic smoke. But Rikkard—you have to trust us. All of that is nothing compared with a full droid assault.”
“Which we won’t have to face if your shield jiggery holds,” said Rikkard, still scowling. “Will we?”
Anakin folded his arms. “It’ll hold. The mine is a fallback, that’s all. But when we give the signal—if we give the signal—then you have to send everyone but the commando teams down there. No exceptions. Understood?”
“Understood,” Rikkard muttered.
Taria watched his limping retreat for a moment, then looked at Obi-Wan and Anakin.
“Commando teams?”
“A little morale booster,” said Obi-Wan, shrugging. “An exaggeration, perhaps, but if it helps…”
He had a point. “You didn’t tell him about Windu’s ground assault.”
“I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Let it be a nice surprise.”
Yes, indeed. Let it be a nice surprise for all of us.
Anakin tipped his head back to look through the plasma-shield ceiling and into the blue sky beyond. “I can’t tell what’s happening up there. Can you?”
“No,” said Obi-Wan. “Taria?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
They were all too tired to sense so far. She just hoped they weren’t too tired to fight.
“Obi-Wan, I’m going to get my generator team together,” said Anakin. “Make sure they’re clear on what warning signs they need to look for. You’re all right?”
“Of course,” said Obi-Wan, faintly smiling. “You?”
“Never better,” said Anakin, and pulled him into a swift, hard embrace. “Take care.”
“He’s so terribly demonstrative,” Obi-Wan complained, watching Anakin half walk, half jog toward the power plant. “Has been from the first. And nothing I say seems to break him of the habit.”
Taria smothered a smile. “Yes. It’s very un-Jedi of him. What a crushing disappointment he must be to you.”
Obi-Wan gave her a look. “Tell me—what will it take to get you down the mine?”
“A kidnapping.”
“Ha!” He shook his head. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I mean it, Obi-Wan,” she said, her smile fading. “We both know you need another lightsaber in this fight.”
“What I need is not to—”
They both felt it, a shock of warning through the Force. A moment later the spindly battle droids lowered their blasters and parted ranks—and the hulking super battle droids advanced, their arms extended, the mouths of their inbuilt laser cannons glowing crimson. A heartbeat of silence—and then they opened fire.
Bam. Bam. Bam. The heavy-duty laser bolts slammed against the shield. The plasma shivered and shimmered, turning bloodred on impact, the color fading too slowly. Under the noise of the escalated bombardment they heard a high-pitched, mechanical whine.
Obi-Wan turned. “That’s Generator Six. We’d better look at it, in case Anakin can’t get there in time.”
Another hollow boom. Another shiver through the shield. And then, as though Durd’s army had only been clearing its throat until now, every battle droid and swarming mosquito opened fire with the SBDs—and the afternoon’s daylight turned scarlet.
“Well,” said Taria. “I guess they finally got the message the Republic means business.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “I guess they did.”
He grabbed her hand, and they ran.
AT SOME POINT Anakin stopped hearing the noise of the attack. He could feel the blaster concussions against his skin, feel them violently humming through his muscles and bones and his prosthetic arm and hand, but he ignored them. He had more important things to worry about. How long since the SBDs had opened fire? Two hours? Three? He had no idea. He’d lost track of time.
As far as he knew, Obi-Wan was still at the power plant with Devi, making sure the creaky machinery didn’t fall apart. Taria was working the fuel supply line, keeping the liquid damotite coming, keeping the power plant and the shield alive. And he was running the shield’s groaning perimeter, around and around and around each generator without stopping, because the moment the shield failed the village was dead. Sure, he had a handful of helpers, Tarnik and Guyne and their friends, doing what they could to keep the generators going, but they were ordinary men and women. Machines didn’t speak to them, didn’t whisper in their blood.
He’d forgotten what it felt like to breathe without pain, run without pain, use the Force without pain. His whole world was pain… and he couldn’t imagine a world without it.
The rest of Torbel’s people were gathered on the square under Rikkard’s stern eye. The commando teams, with their few blasters and their dangerous homemade grenades and their vibro-picks and axes and crowbars and rigged-up blasting caps, huddled together and waited for the worst to happen—for the shield to fail, and the droids to advance. Everyone else—the mothers, the fathers, and the children—waited for the order to flee underground. Sufi’s patients were loaded onto stretchers and antigrav sleds, ready for a swift evacuation.
Their fear was oppressive. Fighting it, Anakin gritted his teeth.
We’ve done everything we can for them. We couldn’t have done more.
As he reached Generator Eight for the fifteenth time, or the twentieth, who knew anymore, he saw a villager on her knees with its housing sprung free, frantically pulling out its wiry entrails. There were sparks and spits of smoke, and the bleeding edge of the shield was starting to melt…
“Get out of the way!” he said, and half dragged, half Force-pushed the woman aside. Plunging his hands into the generator’s innards he let that strange instinct guide him, let it show his fingers where to go, what to heal.
And then the villager—Chiba, that was her name—screamed and pointed and he looked, and saw the same melting along the edges of sections ten and twelve.
Oh, stang. This is it.
“Chiba!” he shouted, so she’d hear him over the endless booming blasts. “Run to the power plant and tell Obi-Wan the shield’s failing. And then tell Rikkard it’s time to get down the mine, as deep as you can go.”
Chiba was young and terrified. “But—but—”
“Go!” he howled, and used the Force to make his point. Chiba ran.
Dizzy, he could hear the escalating sound of wrongness in the shield, in the generators. He took a deep breath, banished all thought and fear of what this was going to cost him… and plunged himself into the Force to buy them more time.
AS HE FINISHED UNBLOCKING yet another fuel line, Obi-Wan heard Devi screaming his name. He slammed the levers back into position and ran to the monitoring station.
“Chiba was here!” said Devi, sweat pouring down her face. “Anakin says the shield’s failing.”
He shoved his way outside. The noise of the bombardment was overwhelming, beating and battering and echoing in his skull. The sky was bloodred with plasma fire and the shield—well, it was holding, but he could see an ominous sparking across its surface and suspicious ripples in the plasma.
They had minutes, that was all.
Villagers were streaming toward the mine entrance, the oldest and the infirm being carried on stretchers or pushed on antigrav sleds. No groundcars; they’d all been driven into the streets and flipped onto their sides. Obstacles for the droids, hopefully, and maybe some shelter for the village commandos. Pitiful, to be sure, but it was better than nothing.
He ran back into
the power plant. “All right, Devi. That’s it. Put the plant on auto-run and get yourself down the mine.”
She shook her head, weeping. “No, Obi-Wan, I’m staying. I can’t leave you to face them alone.”
“Devi!” he said, and grabbed hold of her shoulders. “No. You said when the time came, you’d go. You promised.”
“I know, but I can’t,” she sobbed. “How can I run away? What kind of a person does that make me?”
“A person who keeps her word,” he said, and hugged her. “Please, Devi. Rikkard will need you.”
Still weeping, she switched the plant’s machinery to autorun then turned back to him, ready to argue some more. Mindful of her broken-down antigrav harness, he summoned a smile and gave her a little push.
“Go on. I’ll be fine.”
Her plain face tear-streaked and tight with grief, she shook her head. “Liar,” she said, and left.
He took a moment, just a moment, to listen to the power plant. It was rough, but it was running. It was the most he could hope for. Leaving it to run or die, he went in search of Taria.
TARIA SLOTTED the last four fuel containers into their feed lines and opened the spigots. When she was sure the fresh fuel was flowing unhindered, she took a moment to ease her aching back and stepped outside the stinking, fume-laden fuel house to snatch some fresh air before going in search of Obi-Wan.
As she took her first breath, the Force slapped her with a stunning sense of danger. She looked up and saw the shield overhead sparking and sputtering and oddly crawling, as though the plasma were alive and trying to shed its own skin.
Oh. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
And then she registered the stream of villagers heading for the mine. Someone had signaled the evacuation. Good. But there was nobody to rally the village commandos—they were milling in the street looking uncertain and confused.
She ran for them.
“All right, all right, settle down!” she shouted. “Into your teams, people. No talking. Come on!”
It was like herding Padawans before a tournament in the large dojo. There you go, Ahsoka. I knew our little competition would come in handy. When the villagers were split into their ten teams of three, silent and staring at her, she gave them her best no-nonsense Jedi stare.
“I know you’re frightened, but I also know you can do this,” she said, raising her voice above the droids’ constant bombardment. “This is your home you’re defending. It’s your friends and your mothers and your husbands and your children. So everyone take a deep breath, get focused, and we’ll run through the drills one more time.”
Trying so hard to control their fear, Torbel’s commandos stumbled through the range of offensive drills they’d been taught. When they were done, she smiled at them.
“Excellent work, people. You’ll do fine, I know you will. Just remember—keep your heads. Don’t get carried away and waste a bomb or a shot on a single droid. Not unless you absolutely have to. Aim for them in groups—you’ll take out more of them that way. Don’t use your vibro-weapons until you’re sure your target’s down and disarmed. And do remember to pick up their blasters if you can. Throw them out of reach if you’re not able to use them yourselves. And—”
“Taria!”
Holding up her hand, she turned. It was Obi-Wan, coming toward her at a shuffling run. One look at his face and she knew. This is it. Turning back to the men and women who’d volunteered to be the front line against Durd’s droid army, she nodded.
“It’s time. Gear up, people, then take your positions. And may the Force be with you.”
Solemnly silent, the villagers loaded themselves with their assorted weaponry and headed out. Blinking back tears, Taria watched them go. But when Obi-Wan reached her she spun around and showed him nothing but a smile.
“Master Kenobi! Guess what? I think we’re about to host a little war.” She skimmed a hand down her grimy black bodysuit. “Is this suitable for the occasion, or should I find myself a dress?”
Speechless, he looked at her. And then he began to laugh.
“Come on,” she said, taking his arm. “Let’s go kick some clanker butt.”
IN THE END it was Generator Four that brought the shield crashing down. Anakin felt the collapse before it happened, felt the spark and flame of its heart as it died. And because of the way he’d reconfigured the shield matrix, because he couldn’t do it any other way, it took every other generator down with it.
Incredibly, as the shield began to collapse, the droid army ceased firing. As if it couldn’t believe what was happening right in front of it. As if this were some devious Jedi trick.
I wish.
The droids’ immobility gave him time to drag out his lightsaber and ignite it, time to reach painfully into the Force and feel for Obi-Wan and Taria. And there they were, not far from the ruined refinery. Then he felt them separate, taking up their positions.
He watched the shield fade, feeling strangely calm. The sky was empty. Mace Windu’s attempt to reach them in time had failed.
A single thought. One last regret.
I’m sorry, Padmé. Please forgive me.
And then Durd’s army opened fire.
“HOLD ON, LITTLE’UN!” Rex bellowed, his voice tinny through his helmet’s vocoder. “Because we are coming in hotter than hot!”
Hotter than hot didn’t begin to describe it. Their gunship was screaming toward Anakin’s location so fast Ahsoka expected the air to ignite. She was still getting used to the idea she wasn’t dead. She couldn’t believe they’d finally broken Grievous’s blockade. But they had. Facing Dreadnaughts and battleships and armored freighters and starpounders and eleven squadrons of fighters and four of the best GAR cruisers, the cowardly barve had lost his nerve. He’d turned tail and run, the move so surprising he’d made it to hyperspace before they could stop him.
Admiral Yularen had turned the bridge’s air bright blue, swearing. And then he’d set his sights on Lanteeb.
Leaving Yularen and his enhanced battle group to take care of liberating the planet, she and Master Windu were taking the 501st and the 95th to Torbel, to save Anakin and Master Kenobi and Taria from the droids.
Please, please, don’t let us be too late.
“Smoke!” shouted their pilot, pointing. “That’s Torbel up ahead.”
Smoke? Precarious, Ahsoka leaned out of the open side of the larty, and saw Master Windu do the same thing on his gunship, flying beside them. The ground was whipping fast beneath them, the air cold and whistling.
Hurry, hurry. Go faster, Jinx. Come on.
They flew up and over a range of low hills and there was the village, crawling with droids and engulfed in flames. She saw a scattered handful of people running, panicked, saw the droids mow them down and keep on marching. Desperate, she reached for Anakin in the Force but all she could feel was chaos and terror.
With a roaring of engines the hunting pack of thirty gunships screamed into Torbel. Some of the droids turned and started firing. The 501st and the 95th laughed and began firing back. And then the larties were dirtside, white-armored clones spilling onto hard ground, and the clanking tinnies never knew what hit them.
Ahsoka Force-leapt from her gunship, lightsaber sizzling. She sensed Rex and Sergeant Coric and Checkers, wading into the fight. May the Force be with you, boys. Don’t you dare get killed. Dimly she felt Master Windu engage the enemy, slicing and Force-pushing droids to scrap. He didn’t need her. She bolted into the fray.
Three fast strides and she was one with the Force. She breathed it, it breathed her, she danced in its storm. Droids fell before her, but she was untouched. The air was rank with smoke and blood. More people had died here.
Not Anakin. Please.
And then she saw the bodies, but he wasn’t among them. She had to stay focused. She’d have felt it if he’d died. And she’d feel it if Master Kenobi died, surely. Some of the slaughtered were women, but none had blue-green hair. She could see that much as she leapt
and somersaulted and slashed droids to pieces.
Anakin, I’m here. Anakin, where are you?
But she couldn’t sense him. She started to despair—and then heard his voice in her memory, deep and measured. Don’t be afraid, Ahsoka. Fear just gets in the way.
So instead of straining to find him, she gave herself to the moment and let the Force move her as it willed. Her lightsaber flashed and dazzled and swung, faster and faster, though she felt quite slow and calm—as though this were a dojo and she couldn’t actually die.
Every droid that challenged her fell to her blade.
She was aware of Master Windu, fighting. She could feel the clones of the 501st and the 95th as they hunted the length and breadth of the small, burning village. The droids she couldn’t feel, but through the stinking, gusting smoke she could see the clone troops cutting them to pieces. And she felt herself drift past abandoned groundcars and gutted buildings, down ferrocrete alleys and across open ground, leaping through heat and flames, slicing apart any tinnie stupid enough to get in her way. The droids were vastly outnumbered now. They were walking scrap metal.
She realized it had been a while since she’d come across a dead body.
Shouldn’t there be more villagers? Where did they go?
And then she forgot about the people, because there he was, beside a ruined shield generator. Anakin. Bloody, sweaty, and still alive. He was fighting back-to-back with Master Kenobi and Taria, and stamped in their faces was a grim, desperate determination and a shared extremity of pain. A ring of droids surrounded them, moving in for the kill.
Ahsoka felt her lips peel back in a snarl.
I don’t think so, you clanking barves. Not today. Not ever.
Then came a rush in the Force and Master Windu was beside her. She glanced at him and he glanced at her and that was all they needed. They knew what to do.
The look on Anakin’s face, when he saw her, was the only reward she’d ever need.
Epilogue
JUST OVER AN HOUR LATER, AHSOKA STOOD IN A SMALL PATCH of silence on Torbel’s charred village square, as Master Windu coordinated the various mopping-up phases of the mission. Since Lantibba City’s Seps had surrendered almost immediately, the most complicated task was arranging for a total evacuation of Torbel’s surviving villagers, all three hundred and something of them, because the place had been reduced to a smoking ruin.