The Clone Wars: Wild Space

by Karen Miller

  Captain Korbel came up to the cockpit. “I understand Master Yoda gave you General Kenobi’s and Senator Organa’s biosigns, ma’am?”

  “That’s right,” she agreed.

  “Like me to scan for them while you’re flying this sweet thing?”

  Clone Captain Korbel had a most engaging smile. “Thank you, Captain,” she said, smiling back. “That would be appreciated.” Then she patted the helm console. “And she is a sweet thing, isn’t she?”

  Korbel nodded. “Sweetest ship I’ve flown in my whole life, ma’am.”

  And how long was that? Nine years? Ten? She pointed to one of the other cockpit seats. “There’s the sensor array console, Captain. The biosigns are already programmed into it.”

  “Excellent, ma’am.”

  After she’d positioned the yacht in a geosynchronous orbit, Korbel took a seat and started running various sensor sweeps. It didn’t take long to find their quarry.

  “On the night side,” said the captain. “And they’re alone. Whole vaping planet’s empty, pretty much.”

  It couldn’t have been too empty, or Bail and Obi-Wan wouldn’t be hurt. But she didn’t voice the thought, just tied in the nav comp to the biosigns readout and kicked the yacht in a shallow dive down to the planet’s sunless surface. It didn’t matter about them being found on Zigoola’s night side; the yacht’s powerful floodlights could turn night into day.

  “I’ll return to my men,” said Korbel. “If there’s nothing else I can do here?”

  “No, no, you go,” she said, distracted, staring through the cockpit viewport, feeling ill with apprehension.

  “Once we’re down,” Korbel added, “you should let us recce the area before you set foot on the planet.”

  She glanced at him. “But you just said they’re—”

  “Better safe than sorry, Senator,” said Korbel with a shrug. “You’re under our protection, ma’am. I’m aware of your expertise but I’d appreciate it if you’d humor me.”

  In other words, Yoda had warned them she didn’t like being fussed over. But Korbel was a good man. She liked him, and he was only doing his job. So she swallowed annoyance and nodded. “Of course.”

  “Thank you, Senator,” said Korbel, withdrawing, and she was left to land her sweet ship.

  The first thing she saw in the floodlights was the edge of an enormous pile of rubble. Recent rubble, from the look of it: the stones showed no signs of weathering.

  Boys, boys. What have you done?

  The yacht settled like a lady on the barren plateau. She let down the ramp, rushed from the cockpit to the external hatch, then stood back to let Korbel and his men disembark for their recce of the immediate vicinity. Obeyed the captain’s stricture to stay well out of sight and target range until he gave her the all-clear. It didn’t take long.

  “All right, Senator!” Korbel called up to her. “You’re good to go.”

  At last. She leapt to the top of the ramp… and stuttered to a halt in the hatchway. Bail was standing at its base, waiting for her.

  He looked… appalling.

  “Senator Amidala,” he said, offering an awkward bow. The contrast of courtliness with his truly ruffian appearance… dirt and stubble and dried blood and cuts and bruises and rags and oh, he’d gotten so thin… stopped her breathing for a moment.

  His eyes were very bright.

  Slowly, with great care, she walked down the ramp. She wanted to run to him, embrace him, but he looked so brittle she was afraid he might break. As well, Korbel and his men had formed up in close protection, and she felt suddenly conscious of Senatorial dignity. Instead she reached him, and stopped, and gave him a tremulous smile.

  “Senator Organa,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I understand you need a lift.”

  Bail laughed, but his voice cracked, and he looked down, breathing hard. “Only if you’re going my way,” he said, after a long pause, then looked up. “I wouldn’t like to put you to any trouble.”

  Her eyes were burning. “No. No trouble. There might be a small fee…” And then she stopped. “Oh, Bail…”

  To the Hells with dignity. Besides, he was married and so was she. They held each other like brother and sister. She could feel his shoulder blades like knives beneath her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I stink.”

  Yes, he did. And she couldn’t have cared less. “You’re alive.” Releasing him at last, she stepped back. “Where’s Obi-Wan?”

  The smile died out of his eyes. “Ah.” He nodded toward the rubble. “Over there. Master Kenobi’s a man of leisure these days.”

  Oh no. Oh no.

  “It’ll take a couple of men to get him in the yacht,” said Bail gently. “He’s… not well, I’m afraid.”

  “Captain,” she said to Korbel. “I’ll need you in a moment, but for now—hold your positions.”

  “Ma’am,” he acknowledged. “Say the word when you’re ready.”

  Bail took her over to the collapsed building, where Obi-Wan sat on a seat made of stone, wrapped in a tattered heat-seal blanket, the edge of the yacht’s floodlights washing over him. And if Bail looked appalling… if Bail had gone thin and brittle…

  There were no jokes. She had no banter. For this man… in this moment… she had nothing but tears.

  “Padmé,” said Obi-Wan, his voice as changed as the rest of him. “Riding to the rescue again.” He smiled, and her heart broke. “It’s good to see you, Senator.”

  She couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe. When she was sure of herself again:

  “You… you… reckless Jedi,” she said, walking forward, and when she reached him she dropped into a crouch. “Anakin is going to be so cross with you!” Her head lowered then, and she fought a private, losing battle.

  “There, there,” he said gently, and clumsily patted her arm. “No need to upset yourself. It’s not that bad really.”

  She stood and stepped back, one hand dashing across her face. “Not that bad?” She pointed. “Let’s start with the most obvious, shall we? What happened to your leg?”

  It was stretched out in front of him, his right thigh crudely bandaged with strips torn from his tunic, the wound patently severe. When Obi-Wan didn’t answer she turned to Bail… and caught the most peculiar, complicated look pass between them.

  Then Obi-Wan sighed. “It’s nothing. Truly. A lightsaber mishap.”

  “A lightsaber—” She stared. “What? Again?”

  “Hey,” said Bail, resting a hand on her shoulder. It felt like… a warning. “At the risk of being pushy, Padmé, I really want to get the vape off this rock. So can we… you know… go?”

  There was a story here. There was a story. The air reeked of secrets. But this wasn’t the time or the place to start digging for the truth. Not with Obi-Wan sitting there, so—so reduced.

  “Of course,” she said, then turned. “And Obi-Wan, you’ll be pleased to know that Master Yoda handpicked these clone troops. All of them are medics. You’ll be well taken care of, I promise.”

  With a careful tenderness that surprised her, Captain Korbel and one of his men carried Obi-Wan onto the yacht. She and Bail followed closely on their heels.

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Bail once Obi-Wan—beyond speaking—was settled in the comprehensively equipped medbay. “Give us a few moments. Then he’ll be all yours.”

  Korbel nodded. “Sir.”

  “I’ll get us out of here,” Padmé murmured as the captain returned to the passenger compartment and his men. She touched her hand lightly to Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll be home soon.”

  Then, leaving Bail to keep him company, she went forward to the cockpit and did indeed get them the vape off Zigoola. Good riddance, good riddance. Kriff the Sith and all their foul works.

  Return course set for Coruscant, punched deliriously fast into hyperspace, she left the yacht to fly itself and made her way back to her rescued passengers. Lowered voices in the medbay stopped her outside, in the c
orridor.

  “Well?” she heard Bail say. “Is it coming back?”

  A long silence. Then: “Yes,” said Obi-Wan. Padmé felt a new rush of relief. He’d looked so dreadful, as though he’d never speak again. She really wished she knew what they were talking about.

  “See?” said Bail. “I told you the Sith couldn’t stop you being a Jedi. Not forever, anyway.”

  “Yes, you did,” said Obi-Wan. To her shock, his voice broke. Held such emotion. She’d never heard anything like it before. Not from him.

  “You need medical attention, Obi-Wan,” Bail said, after a moment. And he, too, sounded like a man overwhelmed. “You heard Padmé. Yoda’s handpicked clone medics. So are you going to make a fuss or will you let them do their job?”

  She heard Obi-Wan cough, a horrible rattling sound. “Has anyone ever told you, Senator, that you’re really rather annoying?”

  “In fact they have, Master Jedi,” Bail retorted. “But not as many times as you’ve been told you’re a pain in the butt.”

  There was so much affection in their voices, Padmé felt her throat close. She’d never imagined she’d hear Bail and Obi-Wan speaking like—like friends. Like two people who’d known each other for years. What had happened to them, back on Zigoola? She was desperate to find out.

  “You want a painkiller?” said Bail.

  “I believe I do,” replied Obi-Wan.

  Bail snorted. “Smart man. I’ll go get Captain Korbel.” A moment later he stepped into the corridor. Saw her and stopped. “Padmé.”

  Caught eavesdropping, she lifted her chin. “Obi-Wan’s not the only one who needs first aid. We’ve got six medics on board, remember. One of them is yours.”

  Bail nodded. “That sounds good. But I’d like to sit for a while, first. Can we just sit, do you think?”

  His eyes were shadowed with what she was sure were dreadful memories… and he looked ready to drop where he stood. “Of course,” she said gently. “And if you want to talk… I’m here.”

  He shook his head. “Not now. Maybe later.”

  He’d have to talk about it eventually. For security reasons, if nothing else. But she could wait. She was good at waiting.

  She patted his arm. “Anytime… my friend.”

  Yoda found Obi-Wan in the Temple’s lush arboretum, sitting cross-legged under a waterfall, eyes closed, fully dressed… and perfectly dry.

  Not quite a week had passed since Senator Amidala brought him home from Zigoola. He’d spent most of that time in a deep healing trance. Yesterday Vokara Che had pronounced him fit to leave the Halls of Healing, but had restricted him to the Temple precinct on pain of her most severe displeasure.

  The warning was as effective as a Geonosian containment field.

  Sensing his approach, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Smiled. And extricated himself from beneath the waterfall. A wave of his hand started the water flowing freely again, and he bowed.

  “Master Yoda.”

  “Master Kenobi,” he replied. “Sit.”

  Obi-Wan sank to the cool grass. Only the slightest hesitation in his movement hinted that he might not be quite himself as yet. That and the fact he still needed to finish regaining the weight he’d lost in his battle with the Sith.

  Balancing comfortably on his gimer stick, Yoda inhaled the fragrant arboretum air deeply. Wondered about the waterfall. Decided not to ask. “Eager the Council is, Obi-Wan, to hear of what happened on Zigoola,” he said instead. “Ready to speak of it yet, are you?”

  Obi-Wan’s expression did not change, but the faintest of shadows touched his eyes. “I think so, Master Yoda.”

  “An affirmative answer that is not.”

  “I’m sorry, Master. It’s the only answer I have to give you.”

  Yoda sighed. “Troubled you are, Obi-Wan. Understand I do. Time you need, and time you will have.”

  Obi-Wan plucked a stem of grass and considered it, his face grave. Stroked a fingertip down its blue-green length. Then he shivered. “Do you know, Master Yoda,” he said, his voice very low, “there is more of the light side in this sliver of grass than I could feel in my whole body while I was on Zigoola. It was…” He exhaled, so slowly. “…the most empty, the most lonely, the most bereft I have ever felt. Worse even than all the deaths I relived, so many times, as though each time was the first.” He let the blade of grass slip from his fingers, his gaze roaming across the arboretum. “That emptiness is what awaits the Republic if we should lose this war with the Sith. It is an outcome to be… deplored. And avoided at any cost, no matter how high.”

  Yoda felt the echoes of Obi-Wan’s memories in the Force. Felt the touch of that dreadful bleakness, and a bitter sting of cold. “Agree with you I do. But dwell on this experience you must not, Obi-Wan. Survive it you did. Learn much you did.”

  Obi-Wan nodded. “That is true. And I shan’t dwell, I promise.”

  “Tell me, can you, the most important thing you learned?”

  “That I am a Jedi,” said Obi-Wan simply, after a long silence. Simply, and with great joy. “And always will be.”

  Yoda smiled, then sighed again. “A great pity it is that the artifacts you discovered in the Sith temple were ruined beyond recovery.”

  Obi-Wan shook his head. “They were poison, Master. Steeped in the dark side. I think it likely not even you would have been allowed to touch them safely.”

  That made him stare. “Indeed?”

  “Indeed,” said Obi-Wan, and held his stern gaze.

  “Hmmm.” He poked the tip of his gimer stick into the ground and watched the soft soil give way. Smiled, not warmly. “Lost to us the artifacts are, it is true. But also to the Sith. A victory, that is.” He looked up. “And what of this Senator from Alderaan? Bail Organa. Trust him can we, Obi-Wan, to keep our secrets safe?”

  For the first time since his return to the Temple, Obi-Wan smiled an unfettered, unshadowed smile. “Oh yes, Master Yoda. We can trust Bail with our lives.”

  “Pleased to hear it, I am,” he said. “And now leave you I will. Rest, Obi-Wan. Your strength you must recover. Need you we do, in this war against the Sith.”

  Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, Master.”

  At the arboretum door, Yoda paused and looked back. Obi-Wan had returned to his seat beneath the waterfall. He looked… happy.

  Despite his burden of worries and secrets Yoda smiled, with warmth this time… and left him to play.

  Even though she knew what he was like about getting messages promptly, Ahsoka took a moment… just a moment, all right, several moments… to stand in the doorway of Allanteen VI shipyard’s Hangar 9C and watch Anakin run through his Force-enhanced calisthenics. Barefoot, stripped down to his leggings, he used the whole empty hangar space to full effect. Powerful and effortless, in perfect tune with the Force, he performed—his execution flawless and very fast—seventy-five traveling double-twist backflips.

  She counted.

  And as he landed the last one, his breathing steady and undisturbed, he swung immediately into a one-arm handstand… poised on four spread fingers and a thumb.

  Eyes closed, he said, “What is it, Ahsoka?”

  No one was ever going to play hide-and-go-seek with Skyguy. “Incoming holomessage from Coruscant, Master.”

  And then he was… on his feet, in front of her. And there was this moment—this tiny moment—again, as usual—when she could never catch how he got from there to here.

  “Obi-Wan?”

  She nodded. “Obi-Wan.”

  He shot her a cold look in passing. “You don’t ever make him wait.”

  Falling into step behind him, walking fast, she cleared her throat. “Ah… Skyguy?”

  He slowed. Turned. Cold was cautious now. He was coming to know her. “What?”

  “I think he looks a bit… wrong.” And then she had to run, to keep up.

  He took the call in the chief designer’s office, unceremoniously evicting the chief designer, his assistant, and two other shipyard execs. They were co
ming to know him now, so nobody said a word. They just left.

  Ahsoka tucked herself into a corner and pricked up her ears.

  “Obi-Wan,” Anakin said to the hologram sitting on its desktop transceiver. “Sorry. I was training.”

  Master Obi-Wan’s hologram looked Anakin up and down. “Yes, I can see that.”

  Anakin ignored the gentle sarcasm. “So you’re back from your mission. At last. How did it go?”

  “Moderately uneventful, thank you,” said Master Obi-Wan. He did blandly evasive like nobody’s business. “I have a new assignment for you.”

  Anakin folded his arms. “Yeah. That’s great. Obi-Wan, what happened?”

  “Oh, it’s far too tedious to get into,” said Master Obi-Wan. “How’s your apprentice coming along?”

  Ahsoka scowled. What? They thought she was an idiot? So they couldn’t discuss the mission in front of the Padawan. They could just say that. She wouldn’t burst into tears.

  “She’s fine. Master, you’re not looking well.”

  “You’re imagining things, Anakin. Now, do you want to hear about your mission?”

  “Yes,” said Anakin, rolling his eyes. “But in case you think we’re done discussing this? We’re not. What’s the mission?”

  “New intelligence has just come in. The Separatists have established a secret listening post. It could explain how Grievous took out the Falleen battle group.”

  “Any idea where it’s located?”

  “Well, no,” said Master Obi-Wan, dry as Tatooine. “That would account for the ‘secret’ part of ‘secret listening post,’ Anakin.”

  “Ha ha,” said Anakin. But he did smile, even though his eyes were still worried. “So, you want me to find Grievous’s spyhole. Do I take the Twilight? And Captain Rex?”

  “You do. We’ve also picked up some partially triangulated chatter, which I’ll have transmitted to your bridge. That should get you started on tracking down this mystery base.”

  “Thank you, Master,” said Anakin. “Ah… don’t suppose you’ll be joining us for this one, will you?”