Humans, not places, make memories.
~Ama Ata Aidoo
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I don't know why we tried to shoot the shield; everyone made it clear our cannons would do nothing to it. Well, maybe it's nothing but a front to make the droids mutter, 'are these Republic dogs that dumb?' That way, when we genuinely attack them, those brain-dead buckets of bolts break away by blue blades and blaster bolts.
There's that word again: brian-dead. I still don't think it's the right word, so I'm wading through my brain until I find it and snap my fingers.
"Module-dead, of course!"
"Shh!"
I wince and whisper my apology to my Master. We were hiding behind the balcony railing, once belonging to a poor sap. Earlier, I had a chance to glance in the mirror to see what a Padawan running on five hours of sleep looks like— exactly how it sounds. No bags under my eyes, thankfully, but for how long? After all, with all these talks I hear on an invasion coming, I—
And for once, I stop myself. I remember where I am and when: not before the devastation but during. This isn't my home, and I'm far from it. I'm on Christophsis with Obi-Wan Kenobi, ready to fight for our lives. I must remember that.
Whorm Loathsome, that Separatist General, is marching forward to kill us all. He's found an unexpected winning streak and will never let go. Good on him, I guess; what a cruel fate for his parents to give him such a name! And what strange circumstances happen with the linguistics of one culture to create such a name? And how many stars have to align that such a strangely constructed name be given to the creature that might end my adventures before they were even born?! The galaxy is strange, and people like Loathsome's parents might be cruel! Even Obi-Wan agrees since he's the one who brought up 'nominative determinism.'
Thinking of which, Obi-Wan tapped my elbow, "Padawan, you're focused?"
I nodded, "After much effort."
We were silent for a minute, "Your thoughts betray you, Zakriahs."
"Do they?" I shook a fist lightly with a flat voice, "Curse them and their families."
"I'm being serious; tell me what's wrong." He leaned toward me from his sitting position.
My head lolled, and I nearly smacked my lips, "With respect, is this the best time?"
"Every moment of a Master and Padawan is dedicated to teaching and learning. Now please, tell me what's wrong. Before the shield arrives."
I looked past him, seeing the Clones not even a meter away from each other or us. I'd love to have their laser-sharp focus. Instead, I support my hanging head with my hand and tell him the naked truth.
"I'm going slightly mad." To his credit, his only response was a raised brow and an encouraging nod. I relaxed slightly, "This attack on Christophsis has resurfaced old problems. There are many lost items here, each with a story to tell. What counts as whispers may as well be screams. Faces lined with wrinkles or untouched by troubles. Yet each one is running fast and scared, away from the looming threat because they were loyal. I can feel them."
I could tell the information was sinking in, and they most definitely clicked. And then the shield passed over us— the sound of a softly synthesized, high whistle fading in and out greeted our ears. Obi-Wan looked as though he'd forgotten about the shield. Rex had crouched expectantly beside him, and Obi-Wan gave his orders.
"We're inside the shield. Stay away from those tanks." Rex nodded, and my Master told me as he stood, "We'll discuss this later." He ignited his lightsaber and then leaped into the fray.
The Clones followed his example with cables shooting out to zip themselves to the ground. It was a slow descent, so they made sure to fire on any droid they could see.
I could end it there and cut to my joining them, but for whatever sake there is(possibly comedy), I'll describe precisely what I did to get down.
Firstly, I stood there, making a decent impression of Toshi's reaction to Obi-Wan. I don't know why I didn't expect him to jump; it's the fastest way down, after all. Secondly, I took a moment to remember how long it took to get this high with the elevators out of order and analyze the Clones' method.
No more recklessness, but then Obi-Wan jumped. But he's a Master. But it's also practical. But am I good enough? Did I care when I chased the probe droid? I care now! He didn't say do this! He didn't say, 'don't do this!' I should run down the stairs! That will take too long! I'm a Padawan! This is what Padawans are trained for! That is a gross oversimplification! You're in a WARZONE!
I didn't see how many Clones watched as I moved back and forth between moving to jump and holding back. I had to choose.
I need to go! I know you do! So, what do I do? Just. JUMP!
I ran and let the Force take me as high as it would let me. Not very high. In the air, I saw droids being cut down by my Master and the Clones. The wind in my ears got louder, my heart hammering, and my hand itching! Itching for— MY LIGHTSABER!
My lightsaber sliced through a droid one second before my feet touched the ground. I wish I could say I stuck the landing; instead, I used my hands to roll past my kill to spin and slice another. And another, and then I stab another through its chest.
At that moment, I felt like something I hadn't seen in a long time. I felt excited as I chose my next target. No one could cheer me on, but it didn't matter. Zakriahs Asher had work to do.
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At that moment, I don't think I ever saw a Clone miss. Each blast made its mark; the Clones' years of training were on full display. Their conditioned senses and reflexes were pushing them to achieve victory.
I was slacking on my training. I was a practitioner of the Force: I had the potential to achieve feats that the naked eye and untrained mind would dub supernatural and otherworldly. I was breathing hard, covered in sweat, but I was getting by.
In retrospect, we were on equal footing; you see, we were all on the same unsteady level against the steadily approaching wave of droids. Simply put, we were losing.
The numbers advantage was what we needed most; if coupled with our superior skills, we could all laugh at our module-dead foes. However, we still lacked heavy ammunition, and they had numerous tanks to spare. I couldn't even destroy a droid in peace without redirecting blasts, refocusing on my close target, rinse and repeat. Almost every Clone by my side fell one way or another. And as minute brought the tanks closer, we saw the best course was to fall back.
If I survive this, I remember thinking, my Soresu will be better than ever.
Maybe I did my job a little too well. I suppose the message I sent was, 'Behind me, all of you!' as the Clones got farther away. Why didn't I move backward instead of planting my feet on the ground? Because the droids were coming on all sides, and, worse yet, I could see their tanks!
If I weren't tackled, that giant blast would have ended me. We hit the ground behind some cover, unharmed but evidently becoming desperate. When I saw who saved my skin, I nodded in thanks.
"How quickly would I have died to that blast, Captain?" I asked, sweeping dust off my shoulders.
"Where's the General?" Rex asked instead of answering.
"I thought he was with you!" Another explosion put gave us pause. Rex shot his blasters over our cover with a curse in some tongue I didn't understand yet.
"There are more tanks ahead of us! They're getting closer to our cannons!" Rex's words made me grit my teeth. "We have to find the General!"
"Wait!" I grabbed him back down. I peeked ahead to see the tanks firing toward a wall once belonging to a whole building. Stretching out with my power, I searched for my Master amidst the noise. I could feel him somewhere; no bond in the Force, yet I could feel his power exalted for lightsaber combat. Thankfully, it didn't take me long; I don't need to show off to let you know I was mighty in the Force. His location was clear to me...he was exactly where those tanks were headed.
"Damn!" I smacked my forehead. He was easy to sense because he was close!
"What's wrong?" Instead of answering Rex, I turned to face him.
"Captain, do you have any grenades?"
"Only two left." Came his quick reply.
"Okay, may I have them and...one of your pistols?"
"What?"
"Oh, sorry. Permission to use your—"
He grasped my shoulder, "Kid, we should focus on getting back—"
"No!" I glanced at the tanks, maybe five or six meters away from his position, "Precious seconds! We need a distraction! I can do it!"
"Kid, it's too dangerous! You could get killed!"
"And if I survive, I'll gain experience." The tanks were getting closer.
"Can you at least tell me what you want to do?" Rex asked after a second.
"Precious seconds!" I snatched one blaster from his hand, "You need to warn him! Please warn him."
"If you do something stupid—"
"IT MIGHT BE STUPID!" I shouted with impatience, "But it might also buy you time! Your experience knows what to do and say and where to go! Now, please help Obi-Wan before my cold feet change my mind!"
Rex's helmet moved like it wanted to argue with my logic about 'experience'(I know because even I could see its flaws), yet he finally nodded. Unfortunately, some droids walked toward where our cover faced and fired on us. Rex and I would have made quick work of them, but we had more pressing matters.
We sprinted away from our position, and as the tanks kept moving down the road, we slipped around them through the remains of what used to be some small buildings. I let Rex take point as we rushed through these small establishments to reach those cruising lumps of metal. And then, it hit me, a memory! My own, this time!
These ruined walls, which we paused to peer at our adversaries, were all that remained of the restaurant where I saw...
I searched for a moment, and then I stopped.
"You're kidding..." My eyes widened.
"What?" Rex asked.
I turned to him, "Well...I'll tell you later. Let's keep moving."
And believe me, I will.
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The tank concentrated its efforts moving forward, Rex hurriedly searched for Obi-Wan, and I set my sights on the lead tank. When this was all said and done, I would listen to every single reason why I should have gone with Rex. I wouldn't be remiss of my Padawan status, youth, lack of abilities, inexperience, and why this reckless move should have had more forethought.
That will be then, not now. I breathed in and out as I ran to the side of the brown tank, knowing they would spot me any second. If not put to good use, then wasted my teachings will be.
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There was no petty reason to use this power— not with lives at stake. My numb hands and feet, aching and calling for respite, fell silent to my request. The unhurried heap of metal was the verification I needed for my request: a burst in speed.
Any other time, I could enjoy the feeling it brings me. This ever-present, unknowable song that has yet to share its lyrics with Zakriahs Asher constantly fascinates me. I will hear its music, and I will perform it. For now, however, I'll practice.
My enemies dispatched, and my destination was reached; it was time to improvise. And as I climbed the top of the tank, a droid's arm in my hand, stupidity finally received a prayer from the last person it expected. Don't get used to it, stupidity. Any blast that tried, I blocked it with one arm, maneuvering and spinning around while knocking on the tank's hatch with the metal limb. I mean, it's not a human's hand! Anyone can tell the difference between skin and metal on metal. And they don't have any human allies, as far as I can tell. So, naturally, the stupid droid would stupidly believe that its stupid friend would be knocking for assistance because it's so stupid so hurry up you stupid bucket of bolts and OPEN THE DAMNED—
"Hey, what are you doing—"
"YAY, STUPIDITY!"
As quickly as possible, I stabbed the droid, hurled the primed grenade in, shut the lid, and jumped off without manic laughter. And I'm serious about this. Without manic laughter. Because as I leaped off its back, the second tank reminded me of its presence.
Time began to halt. I was stuck between two tanks: one about to blow and the other ready to blow me away. The armor on this thing wouldn't protect it from an internal explosion. Such a tiny tool, no bigger than my hand. These mechanized things aren't indomitable— I can teach them of such.
I hurled the grenade down the barrel of its cannon! Never mind turning around to check or worrying about my aim— I know it made its mark. The Force imbued me with speed still, and I wouldn't waste it. I hit the ground and flew out of the splash zone or whatever this inferno is called.
With my speed, I was far from the second tank. The droids likely took a moment to determine whether my last, seemingly futile lob deserved retribution. By the time they made to aim at me, I was a few meters away.
Unfortunately, the first tank exploded, and I was closer to that. The explosion felt to my ears like emerging from a swimming pool if the water punched me out and threw me to the ground. My ears rang, my chest heaved in pain, and the power of the Force faded. My impact didn't sound like a gigantic bell colliding with stone, but if this wasn't how it felt!
I missed the smooth floor of the Temple's training room. At least it wasn't chunks of building digging into my skin!
I miss the quiet of my Temple and not that damned repeating whistle!
I had to return to where I sent Rex to find Obi-Wan— he was expecting me! I shouldn't lie down as tall, grey droids glared at me. I needed to glare right back and say no to their diabolical deeds. I have to help defeat these evils which pervade the galaxy! I shouldn't— the tank slowly hovered away from its path. Its new destination was behind the Super. The message it carried was clear. I should...
"I should apologize to Toshi if I get back..." said I, as I slowly stood up with my hands up.
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"Have a seat, General," Obi-Wan said smoothly and politely.
"Have yew gone mad?" Came Whorm Loathsom's expected response.
The situation had taken a turn for the worst, it seemed to Obi-Wan. To an outsider, the high and mighty Separatist General appeared looking down from an armored vehicle on his defeated foe. Yet, Obi-Wan, despite being disarmed and surrounded, knew better. In the Force, confidence flowed through Obi-Wan to guide his next move. Experience reminded him that the Jedi Master had survived worse encounters from more terrifying adversaries. And his throat was hoping that the Kerkoidian General was not above refreshments.
The Negotiator's words were already filled with honey.
"This day is yours, General," He continued, "All that's left is discussing the terms of surrender."
Loathsom glared, "Don't try any of yer tricks, Jedi."
An LEP servant droid in tow, Loathsom made his way to Obi-Wan's makeshift table and seats. Both sat comfortably and as mundane as could be on two chunks of rubble.
"Tis' a rare honor to meet one's opponent face-to-face. You're a legend throughout the Inner Core." Obi-Wan did not lie. Loathsom's reputation was notable: an honorable Kerkoidian General with many victories under his belt, earned through means of bravery— a pity that they were on opposite sides.
"The honor is mine, thank you," Loathsom replied, "...I must say, yew've no idea how glad I am that yew surrendered."
"At some point, we all must accept the reality of the situation." Obi-Wan shrugged and would have cleared his throat until he noticed an unexpected sight. Well, not unexpected, but more an unacceptable one that made his shoulders sag in exasperation.
Thankfully, neither Anakin nor his new Padawan was escorted by droids, but Zakriahs. The Padawan held his hands a little too high and wiggled his fingers too much for Obi-Wan's liking. An exaggerated, mocking form of surrender. Yet, his expression was one Obi-Wan was all too familiar with— a pitiful frown that tried to avoid his Master's gaze.
"This one's yours, I take it." Said Loathsom as the boy kneeled on the side of their table.
"He is my Padawan learner."
"Zakriahs Asher, naturally," Zakriahs said, his raised hands bending with his bowing head. He looked like a bowing avian creature.
"Your first battle?" Loathsom asked.
The boy's eye twitched, "It's that obvious?"
"Don't take that tone," Loathsome admonished, "Show some dignity in defeat, boy."
"Zakriahs, the General and I are negotiating our surrender." Obi-Wan made sure to emphasize the two most essential words.
The Padawan looked at the Kerkodian for a moment and then at Obi-Wan.
"Well, good for you."
"Padawan—"
"I know, my apologies. That was my only one. I'm too tired for any more." He rubbed his neck, "Destroying two tanks will do that to some people."
Loathsom's simmering glare didn't overshadow Obi-Wan's questioning gaze; it seemed to both Generals the Padawan didn't notice either. Obi-Wan decided to get things back on track.
"Pardon me," He cleared his throat, "might we have some refreshments?"
Loathsom jabbed a claw at his servant, "You! Bring us something liquid."
The LEP bobbed his head and left. As it did, Obi-Wan snuck a glance at his Padawan. He used the Force to gauge Zakriahs' emotional state and was understandably puzzled. His emotions were perfectly plain as his face would allow: weary and waiting for something better to come along. And there stemmed Obi-Wan's confusion. Obi-Wan could feel something, but at first, believed it to be his hope in Anakin's engagement with the shield.
Yet, behind that face, Obi-Wan detected in his mind...a chronometer. Ticking away for a set time.
As quick as they left, Zakriahs' green eyes flashed at Obi-Wan. He felt Obi-Wan's presence; his Master did not try to hide it, and both Jedi understood each other perfectly. Zakriahs had one last card to pull, and Obi-Wan told him to hold back. They nodded to each other, Zakriahs hiding his as a bow of defeat and Obi-Wan acknowledging the Separatist General.
"Thank you. This shouldn't take long."
"I should hope not. The usage of droids makes rationing food and water a simple procedure." Loathsom sniffed and tilted his head with a smirk, "Can you say the same, Master Jedi?"
The second of silence that passed was one second too many for Obi-Wan's liking. The bearded man quietly inhaled through his nose, about to retort with his usual diplomatic courtesy. Then, Zakriahs' hands slammed on their table, breaking each Genral's attention from the other.
Zakriahs slowly turned to Loathsom, "Sorry, my arms were tired." And in the blink of an eye, he smiled brightly with two spoons suddenly in his hand, "Wouldst the General care for some music?"
"Music?!"
Zakriahs nodded, "Percussion, unfortunately. I hoped to learn to play a vioflute eventually, but..."He started tapping at his instruments, "Maybe I'll still get my chance— if you let me live, that is."
"Come now, Zakriahs," Said Obi-Wan half seriously, "The General is a soldier, not a barbarian. Our care is now in the hands of our host, so please, show respect."
"Oh, certainly, Master!" Zakriahs laughed, "Our soldiers need only the best. Not cheap materials or some small rodent on a wheel." He mock-gasped and put a hand on his chest, "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. After all, a soldier's only as useless— I mean, useless as their swamp-faring killers."
Loathsom growled, "Keep speaking like that, boy, and yew might have to speak with your hands."
Obi-Wan could sense the Kerkoiden's feelings: bitter and insulted. Zakriahs' statement wasn't a simple jibe— it had pinpoint accuracy.
"Whatever!" Scoffed Zakriahs, and Obi-Wan tensed now, knowing his Padawan wasn't done.
"I'd suggest," Obi-Wan cut in, "You listen to him, Zakriahs. We are negotiating, after all."
Zakriahs received the message sent through the Force and rolled his eyes. Propping a knee, he began to play a jaunty tune. Obi-Wan almost sighed in relief when the droid arrived with their refreshments. Loathsom tapped his fingers impatiently as the droid poured his tea. Obi-Wan could sense the Genral's emotions boiling over and knew he wouldn't keep his attention much longer.
So, he fixed him a smirk. The droid dispensed the two Jedi their drinks, and at once, Loathsom snatched his teacup and downed it whole.
Oh, that's what you saw, Zakriahs, Obi-Wan thought as he stirred his cup with two sugars.
"Old habits..." Muttered Zakriahs as if hearing him.
"What?!" Loathsom snapped as the Padawan grabbed three sugars from the bowl.
"...compel me to blow for a minute on my hot beverage; it can't be too hot or too cold." Zakriahs stared, "Despite appearances, we're both quite meticulous. Wouldn't you agree, General?"
Obi-Wan enjoyed the taste of his tea with a pleased sigh. His and his student's attitude were one and the same. Well, I didn't expect this to last long in the first place.
"And, of course, arrangements must be made for their wellbeing once you've taken our troops into custody. I assume that you have—"
"ENOUGH OF THIS!" Loathsom gripped the table, "Yew are stalling..."
"Nonsense! There are numerous topics to be discussed." Obi-Wan winked. Zakriahs chuckled when the droids flinched at that wink.
"A song for the General!" Zakriahs exclaimed, "Tick, Tock! Use the blocks for my splendid—"
Loathsom heaved their table away with a roar.
"SEIZE THEM!"
And then the Jedi were lifted by their arms. Obi-Wan made no reaction before he tossed his cup aside, while Zakriahs gently placed his before dangling his legs back and forth in the air.
"Unless yew call off your forces now, I'll have no choice but to destroy you!"
Obi-Wan and Zakriahs realized that the Kerkoiden's patience hadn't entirely evaporated— they hadn't been shot or gutted on the spot, after all. Yet, even they knew a tragic ending when it was ready to tear them limb from limb.
"Truthfully," Obi-Wan looked up, "I'm wondering why your shield is still up."
"Because it's turned on, Master, obviously."
At this, Obi-Wan shot a wilting face at Zakriahs, who only shrugged as best as the droids would allow him. Loathsom looked ready to scream his head off at the boy, despite not being the target.
Then, everyone jerked at the strange new sound.
A deep, synthetic hiss that reverberated for all to hear. When everyone examined the sky, the dull red sky faded to its original lavender and pale pink clouds.
Obi-Wan sensed the General's surprise and confusion— as expected— yet within Zakriahs, past the overpowering sense of relief, the boy shared the General's astonishment. Obi-Wan smiled at all of this and also made a mental note of this instance.
"Not anymore!" Obi-Wan replied, deeply satisfied and relieved. And with effortless defiance of physics, he flipped over his captors, rammed them into each other with his power, and leaped behind the General. To the General, this would be two surprised eye blinks before being seized in a chokehold.
The droids fired at Obi-Wan, nearly hitting both of them.
"No! Don't fire!" The Kerkoiden rasped in fear. And Obi-Wan loosened his grip for air but stressed his control over the new circumstances.
"Hah! Something appears to have happened to your shield General." Obi-Wan said sarcastically.
"It looks like it's been turned off, obviously." Said Zakriahs flatly.
"Yes..." Obi-Wan half huffed, and half sighed, "Zakriahs, why are the droids not scrap metal?"
"Because you're busy, and I'm not doing anything, obviously."
"Well?"
And with that, Zakriahs pulled something out of his tunic with the Force. The object fired into the red eyes of his captors and then at the droid holding his lightsaber. In their moments of distraction, Zakriahs fell, pulled his saber to his left hand, and ignited it.
How often do droids expect a Jedi to hide a blaster? Obi-Wan mused as Zakriahs tore through the super battle droids.
When Obi-Wan's communicator bleeped, he idly switched it on to see the holographic form of Admiral Kilian appear.
"General Kenobi, I've great news:" He began, and Obi-Wan could feel the man's delighted pride even from down here, "The Separatist Armada are running with their tails between their legs. You should be seein' your reinforcements any second now."
On cue, Republic ships hummed through the sky. One ship landed before Obi-Wan to deliver an even more significant relief: Master Yoda and a batch of new Clone troopers.
Obi-Wan finally relaxed his features, "Master Yoda, your timing couldn't be more perfect."
The Grandmaster nodded, yet he felt the actual weight of those words. He looked past the Jedi master to see his Padawan bowing to the scrapped droids before dizzily walking to Obi-Wan.
"Never let it go unsaid," He pointed sluggishly at Obi-Wan, "that Primeday is my favorite day." And chuckled before looking down, "Oh, hi, Master Yoda! When'd you get here?"
Obi-Wan and Yoda shared an amused look, knowing full well that the Padawan was only joking.
"For five minutes," Yoda said, "watching you spin like a dancer, I did. Practice, or else ruin tomorrow night's show you could."
They each shared a good laugh, Zakriahs blushing slightly. Master Yoda returned to his formal expression.
"Master Kenobi. Padawan Asher. Successful, you were?" Despite their nodding, the Grandmaster frowned, "Yet, at a high cost, it was. And seen it first hand, now you have, Padawan. Troubled you are with this discovery."
Discovery? Interesting choice of words, yet strangely fitting, Obi-Wan thought as Zakriahs paused.
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Master Yoda knew precisely which words to use.
The most significant conflict I've ever known is another day for everyone else. How long was it before I answered Master Yoda? Did this happen in a fraction of a second, or were these Masters patiently waiting for my response? Was my every emotion on display, or did I perform the stoic Jedi?
I honestly don't know. What I do know is the lackluster feeling of my answer.
"Yes, Master Yoda. It was... so awful."
The Clones had already escorted Loathsom, and I felt my knees wither. I closed my eyes and took a few breaths. I didn't feel my weapons in my hands anymore. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to touch anything that shouldn't be there, and I found nothing, surprisingly.
"And?" Yoda leaned forward, hands on his signature grime stick. And he was winning for the truth— the one I learned from the beginning. I faced Yoda, who was now less than a meter before me. When did— no. Despite every mistake I made, every soldier present, every powerful Jedi...
"...It will only get worse before it gets better. It took everyone here to bring on the finale of Christophsis. I think... I'll stay to learn and help in any way I can." I stared into Yoda's eyes, "And I'll go and travel and do my part."
Yoda's wrinkled eyes closed, and he nodded a pleased yet somber nod.
"Good," He said, "good. For your time out here, far from over it is."
I stood back up, both weapons in hands with Obi-Wan at my side. He placed a hand on my shoulder, a grateful smile on his face. It felt good to smile again and not feel like hauling a boulder up a mountain with my mind considering the possibilities of this war. No, just the peace, that's all.
Then I gasped, remembering something vital that was tucked away in my mind. The distant memory of orange warning us...
"That emergency Ahsoka Tano mentioned? You know, I don't think she ever specified its meaning."
Obi-Wan winced at the name, "Speaking of which, Anakin has been... difficult with his new Padawan."
"Young Skywalker approaches. See where his heart lies, we will."
Yes, we will.
Also, I need to give Rex his pistol back.