by Karen Miller
—and attacked.
You’re dead. You’re dead. Every last one of you is dead.
The battle consumed him. The void of space fell away. Flesh became metal, thought burst into flame. The boundaries between space and time and self disappeared. Dissolved within the Force, he surrendered to the moment. Past, present, and future were one. He was Anakin. He was Obi-Wan. He was Shmi and Padmé and Ahsoka. He was Grievous in his greed. He was Rex and Fireball and Wingnut and all the clones he’d never met. Every friend, every enemy, left behind and yet to come. And he was his fighter, too, wings and thrusters and conduits and canopy. He was his fighter, tearing up the stars.
I am the Chosen One. Today I choose to win.
Indomitable, Pioneer, and Coruscant Sky joined him in battle. Like the warships of old, planetbound, on wide seas, they sailed the void’s astral winds and pounded the Sep warships with proton torpedoes and laser blasts. Fire bloomed and died on both sides, its incandescence fleeting. The pilots of Gold Squadron, his Hammers and his Arrows, flung themselves at the enemy so the enemy would not prevail.
Sight—chase—kill. Sight—chase—kill. Over and over and over and—
Arrow Six gone. Hammer Leader gone. Gold Four gone. Arrow Three gone.
It’s war. It’s what happens. Don’t think of them. Not now.
Scarab gone. Scarab gone. Scarab gone. Scarab gone.
The Force showed him Grievous, railing on his bridge. Showed him Padmé, sleeping. Showed him Palpatine, in thought. Showed him Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, fighting back-to-back. A sandstorm of images whirling past his mind’s eye.
It shows me myself. It shows me victorious.
The battle raged on and he raged with it, man and machine in perfect killing harmony.
“Look out!” Ahsoka shouted. “Soldier, look out!”
The clone whose name she didn’t know couldn’t hear her. He was going to die. Locked in her own life-or-death struggle, deflecting a volley of blaster bolts from an oncoming droid on a STAP, nicked and singed and scorched in half a dozen places, Ahsoka reached through the chaos, reached for the Force, and pushed the clone sideways as a stream of plasma sizzled the air where he was standing.
I saw that! I saw it! Before it happened, I saw it!
A burst of elation gave her a fresh punch of strength. Her lightsaber a green blur in front of her, she leapt to meet the droid on its STAP and slashed both machines in half with a single swiping blow. Her Force-enhanced jump carried her up and over the spinning debris, up and over three charred clone troopers she couldn’t save, a blood-soaked clot of civilians she couldn’t save, and into the path of four shielded droidekas.
Four against one? That’s just not fair!
She reached for the Force again—and suddenly that was harder: she was getting tired—and desperately pulled half a high stone wall down on the machines. Not even their enhanced shields could save them. Flattened, they sparked and spat and died.
Taking a moment to breathe and swipe the sweat from her face, she took a wild look around Tal’cara’s central plaza. Before the Seps it must’ve been a pretty place. Now it was smoke and ruins; pools of blood and rubble were strewn everywhere, surrounded by shorting power cables and burst water pipes pretending to be fountains: The air was thickly hazed with stinking smoke. It seemed the Sep droids had been given one order: Kill everything that bleeds. With brutal efficiency they were doing just that.
Master Kenobi wasn’t here. He’d ordered her and Rex and others into the fray, then left her to cope while he and his own clone detachment headed for the strategically crucial spynet facility. She didn’t mind, it meant he trusted her, but she couldn’t help worrying—for him.
If he gets hurt again, Anakin’ll blame me, I’ll bet.
A sharp shock of foreknowledge spun her around, lightsaber raised and ready. Three pounding heartbeats later two more STAPs screamed up and over a partly demolished dress shop. The droids driving them caught sight of her and started firing, a blood-red volley of zipping laser bolts. Grimly she deflected their attack, angling the bolts back on the droids, exploding them into a shower of sparks and spare parts.
All around the plaza, clones from Torrent Company fought the entrenched Sep forces. As well as the STAPs, super battle droids thudded their emotionless, methodical way through the crumbling buildings and across the open spaces, smashing the statues, crushing the flowers in their scattered beds, splintering and torching the blossomed trees, firing blasters and launching grenades. Destruction and desolation—the Seps’ stock in trade.
Right now they only had one gunship for air support, and Torrent Company’s clones were taking a beating. With their comms still jammed—stang, she wanted to know how Grievous was doing it—there was no choice but for the other gunships to insert and then fly off to make individual sitrep assessments of the enemy’s strength and troop disposition. It was a crazy way to run a war.
And not a very likely way to win it.
But she wasn’t going to think about that.
Everywhere she looked beyond the plaza she could see columns of thick black smoke streaming into the hot summer sky. A light breeze swirled, bringing with it the stink of burning things, the faint screams of living—dying—beings, the thud-thud of concussive weapons, the higher-pitched zap-zap-zap of lasers.
Overhead, their lone shielding gunship opened fire. A Sep battery fired back and—oh no, oh no—the gunship was belching red and black smoke. She saw two clones plummet from its half-open belly, saw the gunship spin like a lassooed wild nerf. And then it plunged toward the ground, disappearing behind an obscuring belt of trees. A loud boom. A plume of flame. She felt the deaths jolt through her. Felt pain and tears and pushed both deep inside.
Off to her left a clone screamed, his voice muffled in his helmet. She turned, just in time to see someone else die in a weltering spray of bright scarlet blood. The super battle droid that had killed him trod on him afterward and kept walking. A sob rose in her throat but she choked it down. She had to stay focused, she had to—
Another STAP buzzed out of hiding toward her. Head spinning, heart racing, she flipped herself up and over its droid-rider’s head, lightsaber extended, swinging, slicing around to dismember the machines.
And then in the final split second, acting on a half-thought impulse, she changed the angle of her blow. Her lightsaber decapitated the droid, sent its head spinning right and its gangly body tumbling left. Guided by the Force she landed lightly on the STAP, booted feet thudding onto the footrests, free hand catching hold of the handle. The STAP dipped and whined, protesting, but she wasn’t much heavier than a droid and it held her weight.
The super battle droids never saw her coming.
“Good job, little’un,” said Rex, breathing harshly as he looked up at her on her swaying, slip-sliding STAP. His white armor was scorched in a score of places. Smears of blood streaked the length of his right arm, leaking from the joint at his shoulder plate. More blood trickled from beneath his chest plate and down his left thigh. He was favoring that leg, a lot. A clone soldier, Checkers, his helmet recklessly discarded, hovered beside him. He was bleeding, like Rex, but not as badly. His chin and left hand were cut. His right arm was held out, ready to support his captain. Ahsoka flashed him a swift smile, liking him enormously for it.
“Rex—you need to fall back,” she said, scanning the plaza for more signs of droid activity. Incredibly, for the moment, it seemed they were alone. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re hurt.”
“I’m not the only one,” said Rex. The strain in his distorted voice was the worst she’d ever heard it. “I’ve got men here who need—”
The concussive boom of the nearby explosion made the warm air shudder and sent the STAP bucking wildly. Ahsoka bit off a startled cry and wrestled her aerial platform under control, steadying it with a twist of Force push. All around the plaza broken windows broke free of their sashes and smashed to the buckled ground. Loose bricks followed them. Dust rose in choking, bill
owing clouds.
“I know, Rex,” she said, coughing and spluttering. “You’ve got men who need medical assistance. Get the wounded under cover while you can. Better yet, barricade yourselves in somewhere. Who knows how soon before you get more company—and I think we’re officially outnumbered. I’d help, but now that I’ve got this STAP I can go find a gunship to evac you out of here. Unless—” She snapped off her lightsaber, clipped it to her belt, then managed to activate the comlink in her gauntlet. “This is Ahsoka Tano calling Indomitable. Admiral Yularen, do you copy? Gunship One, do you copy? Does anybody copy? Can anybody hear me?”
“It’s no use,” said Rex, his voice tight with pain and ruthlessly controlled concern. “Whatever bright idea they cooked up to fix the comm problem doesn’t seem to be working. At least not yet. We’re on our own, Ahsoka.”
She’d never heard him sound like this. She’d never seen him bleed so much. Not since Teth had they lost so many men in one engagement. Another look around the plaza showed her the surviving clones, only a handful unscathed, heading from all directions toward their captain. Many of them could only walk with assistance. Four were being carried, too wounded to make it alone.
Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad.
“I’m going to find Master Kenobi,” she said, willing her voice to sound bold and confident. “And another gunship. I’m getting you out of here, Rex. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Rex, trying to sound like his unwounded self. He swayed, and Checkers grabbed him, keeping him on his feet.
She felt her throat close again. “You’re not allowed to die. That’s an order.” She looked at the other clones. “Is that clear, everyone? No more dying. It’s against regulations.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” the surviving clones of Torrent Company chorused.
“Checkers—”
“Ma’am?” he said, his voice tight with pain.
“Keep an eye on Captain Rex.”
He nodded. “Ma’am, let’s make that two eyes.”
“Okay then,” she said, touched close to tears. “Stay here. Stay safe. I’ll be right back. I promise.”
And before the clones’ courage broke her completely she wheeled the STAP away and gunned it out of the plaza in search of Obi-Wan, and help.
Slashing his lightsaber through yet another onrushing wall of droids, feeling the drain on his strength, the burn in his muscles, Obi-Wan blinked stinging sweat from his eyes.
I have a bad feeling about this.
“General Kenobi!” shouted Lieutenant Treve, darting out of the corridor behind him. “Sir, they’re about to break through the second containment line. I don’t know how much longer we can hold them.”
As the last droid collapsed piecemeal at his feet Obi-Wan turned, breathing hard. The pain behind his eyes was vicious. “We’ll hold them as long as we have to, Treve. There’s no alternative.”
Treve took one look at the scattered bodies of the Bothans killed before Republic help arrived, then pinged a finger to his helmet. “Yes, sir.”
He didn’t sound too confident. And I don’t feel too confident. I wish Anakin would get here. “Number of casualties?”
“Sorry, General. I’ve been too busy to count.” Treve shook his head. “Maybe a third.”
A third? He took a moment to ease his aching shoulders. “What about gunship support? How is it holding up?”
Even with his expression obscured by the helmet, Treve’s discomfort was palpable. “Ah—”
He closed his eyes, briefly. “How many?”
“At our location? Four shot down. Two destroyed, two disabled.” Treve shrugged. “Could be worse, sir.”
Really? How? “So we’ve no air support at all?”
“Not quite,” said Treve, grim again. “We’ve got six gunships still up there but they’re finding it hard to break through the Sep defenses.”
Which would explain why he’d heard plenty of enemy fire but hardly any friendly. He could hear it now, booming and blatting beyond the barricaded front doors. Muffled, but still too close. Hammering beneath it was the familiar dap-dap-dap of Republic blasters shouting in reply.
“Very well. Get back to the line. Tell the men to hold on. Reinforcements will reach us soon.”
“Sir.” Treve started to withdraw, then hesitated. “General—are you sure you’re all right here on your own?”
Obi-Wan wiped the sweat from his face. Scattered around him were the remains of all the droids who’d so far failed to kill him. The spynet facility’s anonymous entrance hall was starting to resemble a spare parts warehouse.
“I’m not dead yet, Lieutenant,” he replied. “Get back to your post.”
“Yes, Gen—”
The entrance hall’s transparisteel skylight shattered, spraying them with high-velocity lethal shards. A swarm of small and highly maneuverable remote droids, each armed with a miniaturized laser cannon and heat-seeking sensors, poured through the jagged hole.
“Stang!” Treve cursed. “Mosquitoes!” Raising his blaster he started to fire.
Obi-Wan felt his blood surge. Shockingly, his armor was pierced but there was no time for him to pull the slivers of transparisteel from his chest and arms and shoulder. No time to feel the white-hot pain, to worry about severed nerves or tendons. Fight or die. That was the choice.
He fought.
Fed a trickle of fresh purpose by the Force, Obi-Wan danced with the mindless, murderous droids. He slashed and sliced and annihilated as many machines as he could reach, and flung more aside with his diminishing strength. The blasted things were tough, resilient. They bounced off the walls and floor and came right back at him, silent and deadly.
A choked cry and a clatter sounded somewhere to his right: Treve was down. Dead or dying. It was hard to see. The rain of transparisteel shards had cut his face and his forehead. His laboring heart pumped blood into his eyes.
No time for this. No time.
Frustrated, he smeared his vision almost clear as more remote droids streamed through the obliterated skylight. Why had the Kothlis Bothans allowed a skylight in a place like this? Stupid, stupid. I can’t kill all those droids. Not alone. But still—he had to try.
Cunning as Onderonian blood-beasts, the remote droids seemed to sense their advantage. So many swarmed him now he couldn’t cleanly deflect every laser bolt. Fire seared his left thigh and he staggered sideways. His foot skidded on a piece of broken battle droid and he dropped hard to one knee.
A speeding STAP plunged through the smashed skylight, careering between Obi-Wan and the mass of remote droids. He brought up his lightsaber, ready to destroy it—then realized who was controlling the machine.
Ahsoka.
She rode the STAP like a circus performer, swooping and sliding, her lightsaber a green blur. Such a little thing she was, scarcely more than a child. But a lethal child… droids were flying to pieces all around her.
Grinning, he regained his feet. Now, this was more like it. “Good timing, Padawan!” he called to her, rejoining the fray.
“I do my best, Master!” she said with a swift, cheeky smile. “Now what say we finish this? I’ve got better places to be!”
“Don’t we all, Ahsoka?” he retorted and moved in for the kill.
Perfectly orchestrated, he and Anakin’s apprentice took the fight to their enemy. The air filled with sparks and smoke, with the stink of burned metal and circuitry and the glorious hum of whirling lightsabers. Then a lucky droid blaster shot took out the STAP’s antigrav projector. Ahsoka somersaulted gracefully off the falling machine and with a hard Force push smashed it through a flock of the remotes.
“Nicely inventive,” Obi-Wan panted as Ahsoka leapt to him. “Anakin would approve.”
“That’s the idea,” she said, whirling to press her back to his back, a classic defensive move. “Can you please remember to tell him?”
Oh, she was cheeky all right. It seemed Anakin was rubbing off on her. “You can tell him yourself.
Now let’s finish this, shall we?”
Panting, bleeding, they redoubled their efforts.
When it was over, the last droid sliced apart, Obi-Wan checked on Lieutenant Treve. He knew what he’d find, but he also knew that it was important to touch the man and feel it in the flesh.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Ahsoka asked. Sweat and smoke masked her face and turned her blue eyes sapphire-brilliant. Her voice wasn’t quite steady.
He straightened, suddenly so weary. So sad. “Yes.”
Seeing it—most likely feeling it—Ahsoka took a step toward him then stopped. Cheekiness vanished now, and grief rushed to take its place. “We’ve got a lot of troopers in trouble back in the central plaza, too, Master,” she said, almost whispering. “And the communications still aren’t working. If we don’t get help—”
“I know. We’re in a tight spot.” Then he frowned at her. “And speaking of being in a tight spot, your arrival was most fortuitous, Padawan. How did you find me?”
Ahsoka blinked and regained a little self-possession. “Um… well, really, it wasn’t hard. You kind of light up the Force like a bonfire, Master Kenobi. Almost as bright as Skyg—I mean, Master Skywalker.”
Now it was his turn to blink, disconcerted. “Oh.”
Beneath the dirt and blood of battle, Ahsoka blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Her eyes widened on a gasp. “Hey! Can you feel that? It’s—”
Anakin.
He didn’t even bother trying to hide his relief or smother his smile. “Come on. This way.”
She sprinted after him down the corridor and out of the spynet facility, bursting through an exterior door into the debris-littered loading dock where the second containment line had been established, at high cost.