Hey, Scout
So, I’m hoping my last letter got to you. I don’t know how much I can tell you, but it’s been a rough few weeks. Almost a month now, between Anzati’s, taidoras, and now I’m here on Ryloth. This wasn’t part of the plan, but I’m sure you picked up on that.
Actually, while I got you, I took on a taidora and walked away! It was honestly one of the most extraordinary things I’ve done so far! I did it to save this boy, Zakriahs Asher, he’s Master Kenobi’s new Padawan. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a feral animal now. Honestly, I don’t mind. It means I can put the fear in him and he’ll listen, no question.
Things are rough down on Ryloth. It’s a far cry from the Temple. Zakriahs calls the planet “the Pick-your-Poison Planet” or something like that. He says such poetic things, and I think it’s so he can sound cool. But I don’t really know, because he’s kind of a natural wordsmith. At first, I thought he was kind of a scaredy cat, and he isn he’s got backbone, but he’s really okay, he’s still kind of a wuss, but not in the first sign of trouble way. Maybe third sign of trouble.
Well, no, even that’s not accurate. Honestly, Scout, I can’t make heads or tails of him. He seems pretty squeamish, but he told me he was helping heal all the Jedi who came back from Geonosis last year. I kind of thought he’d have like nerves of steel, you know? Or do you think I’m expecting too much from him? I mean, he’s a Padawan like me, but, and this is gonna sound really weird, when we’re talking to each other, he kind of stares into my eyes like they’re the most serious thing he’s ever seen. Yet, he smiles. It honestly kind of reminds me of…well, of Yoda. Master Yoda tells me I’m wise beyond my years, and sometimes I want to believe him, in fact, I like believing him. But when we returned to Coruscant after Christophsis, it was…well. First, let me tell you that back on Christophsis, when Skyguy was telling Masters Kenobi and Yoda that he wants to train me, I noticed Zakriahs wasn’t paying attention. I couldn’t read his face, but he focusing on the new clone troopers marching down. No big whoop, right?
The thing is looking back on it, he kind of reminded me of you, with how smart you can be, and how even though most might not realize it, you’re paying close attention. I’m pretty sure he was paying attention, that he’s nearly as detached as he likes to play up. After all that, returning to what I first said, Zakriahs told me how he ran into a diner on Christophsis with four empty soup bowls. All those battered and decrepit buildings the Seppies destroyed, and somehow nothing knocked over or smashed those bowls of soup. Zakriahs has psychometry, so I imagine his feelings on what happened in that place might have been enhanced with that tragedy. But Zakriahs asked me how can four bowls of soup can be left untouched even after the whole planet shakes with explosives. Which…is honestly a good question, but I get the feeling he was asking more than that. He couldn’t finish his question, maybe. He told me that story to cheer me up, and it didn’t make me laugh or anything, but I think I felt comfortable knowing that we were in this together.
I’m sorry, Scout. I didn’t mean to dump this on you. It’s just that things are kind of tense right now. We got off of a creepy ship led by that scum Diomeni, his ship was filled with more living soldiers than tinnies, but the tinnies I did beat helped me work through my stress. Meanwhile, I have to accompany two distant Jedi, one’s my Master, and the other is…here and not in the Temple Archives. Don’t get me wrong, he’s fun and has a sense of humor, but he feels more like a bookworm, but he’s really pulling through in some spots. I’m glad because the longer I freeze down here on Ryloth, the more I’m reminded how we’re not where we’re supposed to be. Everything has gone so wrong. Everyone’s on edge, especially my Master, and…I can’t help but feel like it’s my
~Ahsoka Tano’s unfinished letter to Padawan Tallisbeth Enwandung-Esterhazy(Scout for short)
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They wouldn’t even wait for Anakin to step out. The first thing Anakin saw once their escape pod roughly hit the floor was Diomeni. It was undoubtedly him, despite the murky glass separating them. And any delusions of avoiding him disappeared when the Anzati’s hand shot up. Anakin jumped back in alarm when a crimson rod of light burst through the glass.
Suddenly, Appo screamed in surprise, and Anakin turned to see Appo being dragged by an invisibility force, like strings on a marionette. Closer and closer to the crimson lightsaber! Anakin pushed Appo back into the escape pod, unsheathed his blue lightsaber, and blasted away the glass with the Force. The crimson lightsaber was batted away back into the hands of Diomeni. The tall Anzati stood with his arms moving in a fluid, beckoning manner as though he truly was pulling strings around Appo.
Anakin could see battle droids surrounding them, several black armored soldiers with vibro-blades, and feral, skittish red soldiers barely standing at attention. Anakin held his blade before him.
“Diomeni,” he shouted, “Release the Trooper and face me!”
“More Clones,” Diomeni said slowly, sliding his feet toward the pod, unfocused on Anakin, “I need more Clones.”
Anakin growled and stabbed his lightsaber forward. Diomeni swiped his lightsaber backward in a flash, keeping his unoccupied arm occupied on Appo. Anakin swiped a few more times until he could finally tear Diomeni’s sights from the pod. They met in a blade-lock—the hangar bay filled with the noise of cheers and feral grunts.
“Can you hear them?” Diomeni asked lowly, “Of course you can.” They twisted their blades, searching for an opening, before they met in another lock.
“They cheer,” Diomeni said softly, “They cheer for me. But for you, as well, for thou art our warrior, bestoweth unto a chaotic time with the burden of burdens, Chosen One.”
Anakin’s eyes widened. Diomeni smiled.
“Glory cometh at the heaviest price, does it not?”
Diomeni pushed Anakin away; a stream of lightning came from Diomeni’s fingers, but this time, Anakin was ready and blocked it with his lightsaber. It glowed and blared into his eyes, but Anakin could peer past it and saw Diomeni walking backward, coming closer and closer to the pod.
Anakin tried to move away from the stream of lightning, but it nearly held him rooted. So Anakin sucked in a breath and charged forward. The Force swelled in this decision, and he could feel the next burst incoming. Anakin dodged Diomeni’s next attack but was wholly unprepared to see Diomeni’s blade beneath Kilian’s neck.
“Forget me, just attack!”
Kilian’s words shook Anakin Skywalker to his core. Memories of Jabiim fill his mind with how he forgot others for the sake of a mission, and he submerged in them. He’s overwhelmed, but he forces himself to understand what comes next. He tries to see what must happen next; he must force everything to make sense. Or everyone he loves will die.
This hesitation lasted for two seconds, but Diomeni smiled. Diomeni tossed Kilian at Anakin; Anakin caught the screaming Kilian; Anakin is fast enough to drop him safely and anticipate the descending Diomeni; the red-haired Anzati still pushes the lightsaber hand away and grab Anakin’s face.
Anakin screams, then, enflamed by his mother’s dying words, the sight of Padme falling out of the cruiser, Obi-Wan not escaping the AT-AT Walker, all of his friends dying on Jabiim; Anakin tried to slice Diomeni’s head off, which resulted in Diomeni pulling his head away, his red hair trailing behind him, and catching Anakin’s elbow to prevent another slicing attack, keeping it at bay.
In all the action, Anakin’s whiplash of a reminder rang, with Diomeni preferring to close the distance. Before Anakin could properly counter, more voices called out, and Diomeni moved his eyes away. Anakin followed them. Kilian and Appo were on their knees, lowering their Republic blasters to the floor, with masked figures preparing to blow their heads off with Thunderer pistols.
“I’m going to show you what I’m doing with your Clones, Skywalker,” said Diomeni softly. Anakin gave him a hard glare, but Diomeni continued, “You might even be impressed…”
Without warning, they felt a faint tremor. Enough to send vibrations through Anakin’s body but also to silence the cheers from the hangar bay occupants. There was a vast, open space with dozens of starfighters, defenders, and vulture droids, each with several members of a pseudo-audience trying to see what was happening, even those above on scaffolding, and they all felt the tremor become a rumble. As the last cheer died out, Diomeni scowled.
Suddenly, the whole ship lurched downward with a massive weight like an anchor. Every occupant lost their balance, including Diomeni. When the lurching turned to tumbling, Anakin struck. To the Anzati’s credit, his arm had its own survival instinct and defended his neck from Anakin’s lightsaber. But Anakin pushed back, his decision to switch to Djem So finally paying off, and Anakin blasted Diomeni off his feet with a Force-push. Diomeni’s flailing form slammed into the two men holding Appo and Kilian at gunpoint, allowing the two men to retrieve their blasters and slip toward Anakin.
The whole ship felt like it was nose-diving, rocking back and forth like a see-saw, though it was plain that it wasn’t. The lights across the hangar bay area flickered until, finally, the entire area blackened. The only things illuminated in the darkness were the sapphire and crimson glows of their lightsabers. Before their fight continued, both came to think of one question:
What’s happening?
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I had wondered briefly why the cell hall was wide, and the ceiling was so high. Granted, by that time, I had never visited a prison of any sort, but I know that the idea of isolation takes root there. The narrow walkways and cramped cells must give a feeling of enclosed helplessness, leaving captives with claustrophobic paranoia, surrounded either by strangers or friends who are just as powerless as you. But the walkway looked like four, and maybe six men could walk in a group. The ceiling appeared adequate for a regular prison barge, but there was a sharp contrast between a barge and a cruiser, so they almost seemed ready to hold giants. (Of course, later on in my career, I would visit a few brigs or prisons, and they are, in fact, quite the size for transporting packs of people, but I bring this to your attention, dear reader, because it's imperative to the following events.)
“You sure you’re okay?” Ahsoka asked. She asks me that when she continues to rub her wrists.
I smirked, careful not to raise my voice too much, as I paused between the cell and the outside, “There are far fouler creepers and fighters across the galaxy than these–”
“One or two words, please.” Ahsoka sniped, and I scowled. But as I climbed the single step out of the cell, my scowl died. So, too, did my voice, as my body froze at the sight.
The only thing I could say was, “...Oh no.”
“What? Did I hurt your…feelings…” Ahsoka’s voice died out as well. I use the term ‘died’ because that's all I could think of at that moment– that we were going to die. Because right next to the door, Ahsoka peered past the gap between the wall and my arm, the taidora.
That hush forces every alarm in our heads to go off. I was melded right into my spot. The cat-like creature paused mid-step as if it couldn't quite believe what it saw. I looked at its half-reptilian, half-feline face; perfectly blank, appearing almost soft, its large amber patches with coal in the center had picked its worst target: us.
I could see the creature’s face distorting, contorting, its eyes intorting what could only be predatory glee. Then, it bared its teeth, a deep growl intoning, vibrating through me.
“...Zak, get behind me.”
I barely registered Ahsoka’s voice or her hand's slow and soft grip on mine. Much less my voice.
“…Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why?’ Just do it!” Her voice quieted, “Slowly.”
This was an out-of-body experience: I could see Ahsoka gently ushering me away by the barest of footfalls, careful not to arouse more excitement from the taidora. The creature was now fully growling, breathing, growling; it almost sounded like laughter. It seemed to indulge in this, where I slid my feet backward as if they were weighted; it brought a paw forward with mocking finesse.
Ahsoka and I were shoulder to shoulder. It was brief, but I could see her face gaining an edge: her blue eyes wavered at first, but eventually, they centered on the taidora. She almost resembled the beast or that which hunts the beast, and for a moment, I was scared of her. Ahsoka was in front of me now, and she crouched low; her nostrils flared, her eyes blazed, like a blue sky ready to shatter and hurtle shards at her enemies, and her fangs bared. The taidora growled louder than ever before, and the Force screamed patience where my mind said run.
Then, Ahsoka roared. A gritting, guttural timbre replaced all signs of that shrill, girlish voice. The taidora reeled back at the sound, and I could swear my heart stopped. We earned one second to regain ourselves.
I felt Ahsoka’s power in the Force: where Anakin Skywalker was a beacon, Ahsoka felt like a firecracker, ready to scream in the night. She pushed the taidora away with both hands, and the beast was flung back and hit someone behind it. I didn't catch a sight beyond a splotch of black and maybe blue or white. It didn't matter. I grabbed Ahsoka’s arm, and we ran in the opposite direction.
“Togruta roar, I forgot you could do it!” I said as we heard the taidora growling, our boots clacking on the wide floor.
“You know what else you forgot?" Ahsoka asked.
“What?"
“The exit’s back there."
“...I’m not having a good day." I said, and almost stopped, but then I said, “Just keep running!"
"WHAT???” she shrieks.
"Only an idiot wrestles a cat-monster that big!"
We hear it gaining on us. It's faster than us. The cells we were in were closer to the dead end, but on that spur of the moment, I had something. Not a plan, but something. The beast was getting closer.
I hold Ahsoka’s hand tightly, “Force-speed, then Force-push the ceiling! On three!!!”
I sense her fear, and then I sense her drowning it. No words passed, but I thought we were ready. The dead end was closer, and the taidora was getting faster and faster. It would bite our legs any second now. One millisecond between death and a wall. Then–
“Three!!!” one of us yelled.
Force-speed bursts like a torpedo, and our feet climb the wall. My mind yells push!!! Then, when our feet touch the ceiling, the taidora’s claws scrape against the wall. But it was agile. It rebounds and aims its claws where we fly off. I feel something scrape my pant leg. It might have scratched my leg. But the air behind the creature’s paw knocks us apart, and when Ahsoka’s figure zooms ahead of me, mine tumbles to the ground. I plant a hand on the ground to lift myself, and it’s only Ahsoka’s shout that I can force myself to concentrate not on the screams of men, the growls, the laughter, the past calling out to me, showing me what they’ve done to prisoners on this ship.
My head snaps up, and the taidora’s swift movements now sound soundless. I flip backward, remembering each and every time, and I push myself to maneuver this way before the gaze of Iron Hand, the stout woman. The cat is playing with me. Its paws only swing after I’ve flipped backward. Anger almost overshadows my fear. Almost.
I can’t keep flipping forever, so I land, steadying my breath. I’m ready to try something, but then Ahsoka acts. She sprang over my head. The taidora wasn’t expecting the action, and Ahsoka grappled the beast's head, maneuvering her body like water and grasping the beast’s ears. The taidora protested, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she was doing.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” I said.
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Zakriahs’ shriek nearly made her laugh. But in that terrifying second, she replied:
“Something! I hope! I’ll get to gloat about!”
Yet, as she clung to the beast, she felt the weight of those words. Just as she had known the weight of life and death on Shili and was reminded of Tatooine. Zakriahs had done his best, they all had, in making her feel better. But she had to turn to Shaak Ti. She had felt so foolish in doing so…because those men were not her first kills.
“We are luminous beings, Ahsoka,” she had said, “and we do not enjoy death. It is always present, and we all must pass on in time. You feel sorrow for your enemies, just as you feel happiness for your friends. But these emotions may hinder you. As death is present, so too is the Force. Therefore, we mustn’t fear either, lest we become victims to the Dark Side. The Force will be your greatest ally, even if you lack a lightsaber. Trust in it. Trust in the Force to lead you to the right moment when nothing else will.”
Ahsoka growled as the taidora’s agitated form readied to grab her, so she acted fast. Try as she had, several times, the beast wouldn’t bend to her power. She poured her feelings into the taidora’s mind, and perhaps it was the stress that interrupted the process or how weak she still felt, but Ahsoka couldn’t subdue the cat. She heard her master’s voice in her head now.
“Trust yourself, Ahsoka. At the end of the day, the only one who can do what you do is you. And me, of course. But you know, when in doubt, break something and then prepare yourself for a lecture from Obi-Wan.”
Ahsoka yanked the beast's ear before she could properly consider her next move or lament how her arm strength wouldn’t be enough to do anything. She didn’t think for a second that she was helpless because she wasn’t. Ahsoka Tano didn’t have her lightsaber, but she did have fangs and she had defeated a bigger animal than this. She felt the ear she was yanking and pulled herself closer.
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“Back to your cell, please.”
The woman’s bland contralto sounding artificially lowered a few pitches catches my ear. I spin around, and the woman grips my arm with enough strength to get a noise out of me.
“I need to stretch my legs; thank you!” says I, but her vice grip doesn't care. I could feel my power telling me to learn about her, but I didn't care, so I pushed it down. I struck my hand at her neck, and she gasped out voices layered on her voice. But she didn't let go.
“Hang on, ma’am!” says the raspy one behind us, “I’ll save you!”
“Shua, wait!!!”
But his partner misses him. His blast doesn't find me, however. The woman doesn't let go, so I move forward instead. My feet land on her shoulders, and I Force-push her to go down with me. The blaster bolt has whizzed past my shoulder. I smelt burnt hair, and just behind me, the animal had raised its paw to stroke Ahsoka, lying on the floor.
The taidora yowls as a red laser pierces its paw. The paw and leg have shifted to a miky white with red blood corroding it like static but change back instantly. The interesting thing about taidoras is that they are creatures that have adapted to change their color. And they’re surprisingly disciplined since, as cubs, their fur changes based on their emotions, much like a Fallen. So, they need to master themselves before they master their prey.
And apparently, the universal color for rage was red because after moaning pitifully, the taidora’s neck shifted to a bright red as its gaze shifted to the one who shot its paw. Its paw let out a small stream of smoke from the wound, and it was limping, but the taidora was advancing fast on the two idiots.
The shooter said, “You know, after what you told me, this ain’t the worst way to go out.”
“SHUT UP AND RUN!!!”
And run they did; the limp gave them some time, but the idiots scrambled and shoved each other so that they ended up tumbling into Ahsoka's cell. The taidora followed them, and we could hear their screams, less like death throes and more comedic shrieks of witless fear.
I look down at the woman still gripping my arm. I tug and pull and yank, but at this point, I fear of losing my arm. So, of course, Ahsoka stands next to me at once. If she had hair, I think it would be disheveled and wickedly thrown about. She looks tired and alive, all at once, but mostly exasperated. She looks down at the woman.
Then, Ahsoka Tano kicks her in the face while gripping the woman’s wrists. The woman grunts, but eventually, her iron hold loosens, and I feel blood flowing again. The woman lies still, her face flattened a touch.
Ahsoka sighs contently, “You okay?” and she takes my wrist. Then, she looks at me and says, “What?”
I realize then I'm staring dumbly at her appearance and her casual approach to violence. But also at the trail of blood running down her lip. I mutter this observation to her, and she looks down, gives me a sheepish smile, and wipes it away, saying:
“Don't worry, it's not mine.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
I nod. Slowly. My face was blank. I kept nodding. It annoyed her.
“Don't look at me like that!” she flares, “I’ve killed bigger beasts with less.”
“Couldn’t you have asked her to let me go?” I mentally smack myself for not keeping my mouth shut.
Ahsoka stares at me. Then, she tries to laugh but is too winded, so it comes out like a broken-down cruiser. Then, her eyes flare up a little, and she gives me an impish glance.
“What did you say about only idiots wrestling taidoras?” she asked, completely coy.
“Well,” I stammered for a moment, “at least you’re brave enough to admit it.”
She shakes her head, “You’re crazy. You refuse to make sense.”
“You’re crazy. You’re a feral beast. Do you wanna leave?”
“Yeah, let’s.” then she muttered, “I’ll give you feral.”
Ahsoka and I passed by the cell, careful not to attract the monster’s eye as it chased them around the cell. After we passed them, they screamed out of the cell with scratches and tears at their suits as they raced down the dead-end, the taidora hot on their trail.
“Should we take their weapons?” I whispered.
“We should,” She whispered back, “but then,”
A high-pitched shriek and deep, guttural roar stopped any plans of stealing their weapons. In short, Ahsoka and I were not ready. We ran almost immediately.
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The common misconception about Padawans is that because we are younger, lack facial hair, have a distinct dearth of tall montrals, and those disgusting wrinkles that infest Yoda’s…everything that we, the Padawans, are stupid. And don’t get me wrong, some of them are. I’ve spoken to, dealt with, dismissed, and even fought a few in the Temple. But not even they are braindead; their emotions just happen to override their ability to think logically, as it can happen to me, too. Or they just have no imagination. Still, I can’t be entirely harsh on them; we are young, and in the future, we could be stoic and serene, so why not act like fools? I can see myself easily discarding my ridiculousness as if I were shedding a coat.
My point is if push comes to shove, any Padawan must be expected to perform if they want to explore or marvel or shine. This was one thing Ahsoka Tano and I have in common.
Turning down the corner, we eventually found a turbolift. It was nestled between this wall, which appeared to be the perimeter's center like a long peg placed in its appropriate hole. There was also a larger door, broader and taller for what could have been more a speeder, but likely it was for the taidora. There was another set of controls by the door; this one seemed more heavily fortified than for the cell. Ahsoka and I looked at each other, clearly hoping the other was a slicer.
“I mean, I know a little, but I’m not an expert yet,” I said.
She rolled her with a grimace. Then, she bent over to the controls, trying to see where it could be ripped open. I knelt alongside her.
“I had a scramble key,” she said, “but they took it. Why don’t we just cut it open?”
“With what?”
She turned to me, making a face, “With that mini-saber. Or don’t tell me you already lost it.”
“Thankfully, no.”
“Okay, let’s cut it open.”
“It’s going to take a while, a lot of sawing and arm strength to do it.” I motioned to both the lift door and the larger one, “And besides, which one should I cut open?’
She made another, more dumbfounded face.
“Zakriahs,” she said, “I’m talking about the controls.”
I digest this statement. Then, I smack my face to hide my blush, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she chuckles, despite herself, “but let’s make that plan B.”
I nod, “Okay, but what will cutting the locks do?”
“Didn’t you use that thing to open my cell?”
“Yeah, but who’s to say it’ll work a second time?”
“Wait, what?” She makes a face.
“You know what they say: the same trick won’t work twice.”
She looks at me, “One, I think that’s for people, and two, don’t you think you’re being paranoid?”
I made a face then, “Can you honestly blame me?” and motioned around us, indicating this foreign and unknown ship filled with hostile enemies of the Republic. She followed my fingers and made a show of standing up, brushing off her knees, then stared at me.
“I get what you’re saying,” she said, “but unless you have a better idea, I think we’re going to have to take our chances.”
I put a finger to my lip and considered. The entire situation had me nearly collapsing with freight, but I had to pretend at least I knew what I was doing.
“How far can you stretch your senses?” I asked.
Her head perked up, “Pretty far, I think.”
I looked up, “Can you sense anyone up there?”
She follows my line of sight, squinting at the top of what lay unseen. This strangely designed detention center must at least have a watchtower of sorts for these many prisoners, and the fact that we hadn’t been bombarded with soldiers or droids made it safe to say that this ship probably had no surveil-cams like in a base or a hangar bay. Ahsoka closed her eyes, and I could feel her concentrating.
“There are…” She said slowly, “three–no, four of them? Five? It’s hard to tell; it’s like,” she opened her eyes, “too much swirling and confusion up there.”
I looked up, my brow knitted at the words. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what could be occurring up there, how tall and skilled they could be, and how suddenly I was drawing up blank. I was drawing up blank! My mind could draw nothing from above; it felt like hearing someone stomp right above me, but the floor prevented me from seeing anything. Which felt like a pathetic analogy that struck my pride because Jedi can look past this, and I couldn’t be dealing with something like this now–
“Try quieting your mind,” Ahsoka said.
I forced my eyes open, tried not scowling at her, and said:
“I can’t.”
Ahsoka shakes her head, “You’re going to have to.”
“I know,” I said, “but my mind is my most powerful asset. If my mind is a sun or a planet, then everything else on me are the stars and moons simply there to make me look presentable.”
She pauses and tilts her head for a moment.
“I never thought about it like that,” she mused, then said, “Okay, how about this?” She presses her hand flat against the turbolift’s door, “Put your hand over mine.”
I look at her.
“Just c’mere.”
I shuffle closer to her. I place my hand over hers.
“Okay,” she said, breathing, “now, let’s concentrate on above. Deep breaths.”
She was speaking to both of us. I decided I would focus on her breathing. Any time my mind wanted to learn what weapons the men above carried or what they could do to us– it was only her breathing. I could feel the Force’s familiar hug or touch or wave, whatever familial or ethereal motion you ascribe it to. In that moment, I ascribe it to mini-cyclones gently spinning from my heart or waves slowly submerging my being, lapping and pulling to my deafened heartbeat. Sounds passed through me like breezes. Knowledge felt as natural as breathing.
I could feel laughter coursing through the room and an overbearing and sweet and acidy taste that nearly sent me for a spin. I could feel Ahsoka going through the same swirl, as she had put it, and I remember pressing my hand firmly over hers as a way to sustain us. I felt something like a nod of thanks from her, and we continued peering into the room. There were four at first, but it seems a fifth member had recently joined them. The presence was much more lucid than the others, though we could sense this was quickly changing.
Then, I let my mind wonder briefly what could be causing this sweet, acidy swirl. And it hit me:
“They’re drunk!”
But I hadn’t said it. It was Ahsoka who beat me to it. We open our eyes, feeling the sensation draining steadily away like water falling to our knees; the connection we had created melting away like bridges of ice in the face of a summer sun. The mini-cyclones spinning around my heart finally settled, and I could hear my own heartbeat again. I heard Ahsoka’s briefly; then, I only listened to the ambiance in our current location. A thought entered my mind, and my chuckle reached her ears before I could catch it.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m just,” I shake my head, “no, it’s nothing.”
“Come on,” she insists, tugging my sleeve, “I wanna laugh.”
I look at her face, almost diamond-shaped but with the cuteness of some kind of cub. I’m going to ruin it.
I chuckled, “I was thinking about how if I wield you like a battering ram, you can chew the doors open with your incisors.”
Her expression is blank, but she puts her head into her hand, sighs bouncily, and tells me I’m not funny. I told her I didn’t want to tell her and that the image was locked in her brain now. Her head-tails are more striking in their stripes, meaning she’s probably more amused or embarrassed about my words. Then, she slaps her hand on my shoulder and says:
“Seriously, though, if you don’t stop mocking me, I will use my incisors on your arm.”
I’m wincing at the sudden grip and gleam in her blue eyes. Yeah, okay, I paled and gulped, but I didn’t say yes, ma’am, because that would be demeaning. After her well-made point sunk in, she patted my shoulder.
“Besides,” Ahsoka said, “Master Shaak Ti tells me hunting isn’t about killing your prey; it’s about putting yourself next to them, letting them come to you.”
Why does she ask me this? Her mind must still be on the ear thing. In hindsight, it probably was; why else would I have joked about such a thing? Did I hurt her?
“I didn’t mean anything bad by–” I was waved off but felt dissatisfied, so I continued, “That would have been nice to know when I was hunting Slick,” I didn’t hide how bitter I was over Slick, “I just rifled through his locker, and he caught me off-guard.”
She snorted, “Well, that wasn’t hide, seek, then scream out where you are, but it’s close.”
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically, but I was smiling, and so was she. But her words ring, and I repeat the phrase, “Scream out…”
She looks quizzically for a moment. Then, her head tilts.
“Weird how no one’s come to save those guys. Do they not care?”
I then say, “Or can they just not hear?”
She says, “And…even then, what can get their attention?”
“A roar?” I suggest.
We share a look, move our eyes to the turbolift, and back to each other.
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Empa was mixing his wine with an extra something when they heard the throaty, demon-belting sound of a creature killing somebody. The expensive Corellian wine bottle dropped on the floor, shattering into pieces.
Empa watches blearily as two guys, Jeff was one of their names, he’s playing with a Clone Trooper helmet, separate from their stations and move toward the turbolift. They’re clearly trying to keep their center of gravity straight and balanced, but the wine has loosened their concentration, dulling them. Empa tells them to check out that noise just as the turbolift’s door shuts. Emba finds himself picking up the pieces of the bottle, telling them that they shouldn’t have been so mean to him and been stronger when they fell to the floor and, how he wasn’t done with his wine, and how sad he had felt to see the wine pooling on the floor when he felt someone picking him up. Emba remembers hearing this guy or kid with fuzzy-looking hair and an orange girl asking if he was okay buddy, and Emba saying yeah, he was okay buddy. Then, Emba remembers being asked what buttons open all the doors.
This knocks some of Emba’s senses back into place. Emba shakes his head, screws his face, and slurs out:
“Wait, I’m not…I’m not supposed to open all the doors.” And he concentrates on looking angry, “Who the hell are you two?”
The kids, or maybe the two-headed…thing look at each other, and Emba can remember hearing one say have you ever done the…time flick or something. The other head says they’ve been practicing. Emba breathes heavily, and his drunken mind decides he will defeat this two-headed thing.
“He’s drunk, so it should be easy to say you will do everything we say, right?”
“Okay, on three. And slowly and with flair.”
“Does that really matter?”
Emba growls so loud and long that his voice cracks and the last coherent words penetrate his mind:
“You will do everything we say.”
Emba’s head is spinning, but soon, he goes through the motions: he remembers bringing up a holographic layout of the detention center and hearing two voices discuss things like the cell they had been in and where taidora had been. Emba struggles to tell them which buttons to press after they ask how to open all the cells. Finally, the fuzzy-looking one gently lays him on the floor, patting his head and keeping Emba from lying on his back. Sleep finally overtook Emba, and he woke up a few times, once to feel himself being picked up, twice to hear people marching past him, and thrice to feel a rumble on the floor.
Emba would never know of the consequences of his actions that day, bringing wine to the detention center. All he knew was that when his head was splitting, and he forced himself to sit, Diomeni was standing before him.
And his first words to Emba were, “There are worms in your eyes.”
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Sid pushed Shua out the prison door just before it shut. The taidora was growling loudly and scratching against the durasteel doors. When the two saw this, they fell to the floor, breathing out raggedly and with cracked voices and bleeding cuts to their bodysuits. Sid would have to seek Diomeni out later and find out what this suit was made of. He would also have to thank him for making it resistant to blades.
Shua tried to push himself up and regretted it, saying, “OH, GOD, HOW ARE WE ALIVE TO FEEL THIS MUCH PAAAAIIIINNN???!!!!!?!?!!!”
Sid lay next to him on the cold steel floor. “Sheer…tenacity…” he said.
Shua plopped down, feeling his wounds dulled by the cold, “...I don’t believe you…and I think I hate you…”
Sid growled between breaths, “You shot the thing you, floor-kisser!!!”
“...Don’t be mean, man.”
Suddenly, they heard a shuffling of doors echoing through the halls. Shua forced himself to sit up while Sid turned his head. After silence, a man stepped through one of the cell doors. He wore white armor, with a brown-skinned face and sharp features. Next to that cell, another man stepped through, only with blue accented armor and a near-bald head. But they shared the same face. Another man stepped through a cell. A few more had appeared on their left, and around the curve, more faces appeared. Shua and Sid realized the hall had become filled with the Clone Troopers of the Republic.
“...Oh, come on…”
Shua tried to reach for his blaster. The blue-accented Clone immediately stomped on his wrist. Shua screamed before having his blaster snatched from his hand. The Clone observed it in his bonded hands.
“A SE-14 pea-shooter?” The Clone noticed him reaching behind his back and motioned for another Clone to help him. In a moment, the Clones gathered their weapons. “And a T-6 Thunderer blaster pistol? This blaster’s bigger than both of you.”
Sid and Shua were weak and powerless against the Clone who stole their weapons: two pairs of SE pistols and both Thunderers. When he finished, the Clone knocked them unconscious and dragged them to the side. The Clones would have shuffled out of the cells by the time the pair would awaken once more, following a rumbling that shook the entire ship. Shua’s eyes would open when he felt someone playing with his fingers. His groan would awaken Sid, prompting the two to see who stood before them.
Diomeni said to them, “The two of you have nasty habits that must be broken. First, we must replace that stump.”
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Ahsoka and I hassled around, going in and out of the security station, signaling the groups of our soldiers to stay in place; we had yet to leave the cells. In and out, open and close the turbolifts, passing messages to the Clones and a handful of unfamiliar faces we had freed. It turns out Diomeni had captured a few other Jedi during his spacefaring conquest, and they met up with us. Including someone I had almost given away all hope for.
Master Neevilin had made her way to the turbolift. She was an Ithorian with two humps on the back of her head, with her eyestalk passing only a few centimeters over my head, so she was pretty short for an Ithorian. I knew better, though, and despite everything, I let her hug me after I released her.
“Padawan Asher!” she said in her stereophonic language, “You are a sight for sore eyes!”
She released me, and I patted her arms gently. She shook her head but continued:
“Have you seen my Padawan? If you are here, does that mean Obi-Wan is here? How are you, boy?” I opened my mouth, but she held her hand, “No! One thing at a time.”
I made to speak, but she asked, “Are we reconvening up there?”
I looked at the security station above us, the floor beneath it now looming over us like an umbrella, and I nodded.
“Then, perhaps we should reconvene.” I nodded and made to open it, but she stopped me, “Forgive me, Padawan Asher, I have much on my mind. I must find my Padawan. We must get off this ship. So much to do.”
I nodded and opened my mouth, but she said, “Now, let’s go Padawan!”
She brushed past me, entering the turbolift. I shut my mouth and followed her.
“Wait!” a familiar voice said, “I’m coming too!”
I turned to see a fully armored Captain Rex shuffling through the crowd. I smiled, then, and offered my hand at the front of the turbolift, which he gladly took. He nodded, looking almost relieved to see me. He opened his mouth, but I interrupted him:
“They let you keep your armor?”
Captain Rex observed himself but could only shrug. His armor had undoubtedly been deprived of the equipment that gave him his bulk, but otherwise, he looked the same, minus the helmet.
“Feels wrong without all my weapons,” he said.
“Well,” I said, “let’s fix that.”
Shortly after, I was presenting Master Neevilin and Captain Rex. Ahsoka beamed and raced up to Rex to hug him, which he reluctantly accepted. Ahsoka had been disembarking from the turbolift when she saw us, and behind her was Obi-Wan himself and–
“Guilo!” said Master Neevilin, and I stepped aside for her to look over her Padawan. Honestly, the sight of these two embracing in a gun-metal gray was better than the smells of cold-confinement mixed with warm-winnowing wine and groaning-gastronomic odors, so this was nice. Guilo Marr, currently being doted on, was shorter than me by perhaps five centimeters, and he was a Givin, meaning he was engrossed in mathematics. He wore the same faded white robes as his Master, and eventually, he found me.
“Zakriahs!” He said, and I tried not to get hugged but failed, “I thought you had been forgotten back at the temple!” I was about to pat his back, but he grasped my shoulder, his skull-like face smiling, “But with you here, it certainly boosts our chances of survival by perhaps 0.3 percent! What, with how strange and annoying you’ve always been, these people don’t know what to expect.”
I smiled stiffly, “Thanks.”
“How are you?” he continued, “Have they tortured you? Your body has perhaps a 50 percent chance of surviving continued electrical shocks, so it’s honestly astounding that you’re not riddled with scars. This is a war, after all. Well, technically, there are several wars taking place at once. But with all the soldiers fighting at once, and now that you’re here, you can’t help but wonder how long we can last.”
“...Again, thanks.”
“I’m not trying to compliment you, Zakriahs, I’m so baffled by–”
“Guilo!” I said, “So am I, but there’s a time and a place, and we are so very far away from both.” Is it fair to treat him this way? After so long, hoping that he hasn’t died, and now here I am, brushing him off…
Guilo sobered, “Oh, sorry, Zakriahs. You’re right; however, the situation is dire.” His sunken black eyes drifted toward Ahsoka, who walked toward me.
“I think we have maybe five other Jedi who are recovering but haven’t been hurt too badly.” She said, “Though, they said they’ve been here longer. Rex says there might be a few crazies down there, too.” She punched her fist, “We should probably knock them out before they hurt anyone.”
“Oh, greetings!” Guilo said, “Are you Padawan Tano?”
She looked at Guilo, “Yeah, that’s me.”
I said quickly, “Ahsoka, this is Guilo Marr, my friend, Guilo Marr, my friend Ahsoka Tano.”
“Great!” he said, “Now, you are a Togruta, so in the equation of 5x + 3 = 3x + 7, what does x equal?”
Poor Ahsoka looked so displaced as if she were beamed to an entirely different planet. She was momentarily taken aback for only a few more seconds but jumped instantly into the new groove. But for the sake of time and because I didn’t want to hurt Guilo’s feelings, I tapped my fingers twice on my forehead. Repeating the motion a few more times, Ahsoka eventually caught on and answered:
“2?”
“That’s right!” Guilo said, smiling. Before anything else happened, Master Neevilin grasped his shoulder and gently led him away.
Shoulder to shoulder, I whispered to Ahsoka, “Givin’s greet each other with math problems.”
She nodded with an ‘ah,’ “I’ve never really spoken to any Givins before?” A pause, “Am I lucky?”
I recoiled a bit at her words, even though I knew she wasn’t serious. But I also knew what I meant; though I understood, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, so…
“Oh, I don’t know, there are scarier things.” I made a face, “Can you say ooga booga?” she pouted and stuck out her tongue, and then we met up with Obi-Wan. He looked close to rejuvenated but could use a proper bacta bath when all was said and done. We all needed one.
“How are you two?” he asked.
“We beat up two guys,” I said.
“I bit off a taidora’s ear,” Ahsoka said.
Obi-Wan stared, “Sorry I asked.”
“How many weapons are there?” I ask. During my and Ahsoka’s absconding of a prison slammer (a little inaccurate, but the combination of words makes me giggle(like now, which earned a weird look from Ahsoka)), we hadn’t had much time to properly evaluate the number of weapons, outside of the few DC-15A’s or S’s, a vibro axe, and possibly projectile weapons laying on the floor like a poor imitation of my quarters back in the Temple.
“This room is large enough to house ten irresponsible souls,” Obi-Wan said, “perhaps more, for them to play catch and run around with thermal detonators…and yet, these are the only weapons.”
“If that’s the case,” Rex said grimly, “then we’re up for another suicide mission…quite possibly my specialty, all things considered.”
“If we can stick together, we may avoid another Jabiim,” Obi-Wan said, his hand by his chin.
“Unless,” Rex pointed to me, “he can find something we missed.”
My eyes lit up, and my teeth displayed themselves in a grin, which was the exact moment my stomach sank. Ahsoka looked at me:
“Hey, in ten words or less, what does psychometry feel like?” she asked.
“Let me get back to you on that,” I said, waving my arm at her. I began walking around the room, trying to find that sense of overwhelming inversion ready to play out scenes against my will. With this room was frequented almost religiously and gaily, as I could sense faintly and smell through all of the wine bottles, it may be easy. May the Force be with us, then.
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Ahsoka watched Zakriahs twirl as though in slow motion. She watched, amused and bemused at once at how stoic his face became while he moved laboriously imprecise with his arms and legs. It was like watching somebody dance with their limbs encumbered by a spacesuit, only someone didn’t tell Zak that he was in normal gravity. He would slide an arm forward, twist it slowly, then twitch his head in the same direction as his arm. He continued to do this despite Rex having spoken earlier:
“Hey, young’un, I know the Force isn’t always forthcoming, but try to hurry up, please. We’re in enemy territory.”
“Lovely knowing you understand the Force better since Kamino,” Obi-Wan said to Rex wryly, then Zak, “But he’s right. Try to hurry up.”
Ahsoka chuckled, but Rex scowled. Rex and Obi-Wan took notice as his eyes always found the wine bottles and weapons haphazardly thrown about.
“These people captured us,” he muttered, “Alpha and I trained under Jango, and these drunkards defeated us.”
“They haven’t defeated us,” Obi-Wan said pointedly, “Look how quickly we escaped.”
“Yeah, Captain,” Ahsoka chirped, “besides, Zak and I trounced two guards; they were practically amateurs!”
“Bird masks?” Rex asks.
“Yeah!”
“Heh, figures. Nice going there.”
Ahsoka only smiled when Rex smiled, and Obi-Wan nodded approvingly.
“No one is ever defeated, even after being destroyed.”
Zak’s words surprised the three. The words flowed out of Zak in a sing-songy tone, lilting like a steady stream. Before when Rex and Obi-Wan called out to him, Ahsoka had assumed he hadn’t heard them. Apparently, he had, and his words had distracted Ahsoka to his apparent unconcern for time.
“Isn’t that backward?” She asked
Zak shook his head.
“We can all be destroyed, whether outward or inward,” His outstretched fingers touched his face, his blue eyes wide and between his middle and ring fingers, “My face could be made of transparisteel glass, and it would still crack one day. But only we can accept defeat, and we aren’t made for defeat.”
He kneeled on the gray floor, tiny grooves spacing them like a vent but not large enough to trip anyone. Zak’s head twitched when he saw one groove separate from the rest. Zak traced the silver circle symbol surrounding this central groove, his eyes flickering a few times. Ahsoka had shared a glance with Rex and Obi-Wan, unsure whether to focus on his words or actions. Then, Zakriahs sprang up to his feet, a finger to his lips. He looked around the room between the occupants and the stash of stolen weapons from the former retainers by the wall where Guilo and Master Nivilin conversed quietly. Ahsoka noticed at the same time Zakriahs did that Guilo was examining the vibrosword with a round pommel with golden markings.
Zakriahs quickly walked over to where Guilo Marr was, snatched the blade out of the Givin’s hands, and raced back to his spot. Obi-Wan decided to join his Padawan. Zakriahs finished inspecting the handle, or perhaps he trusted Obi-Wan to see what he may overlook and examined the tip. Ahsoka and Rex decided to come closer to them. Ahsoka could see that the blade’s design differed from a conventional sword or the two guards she faced. The glaringly obvious distinction was that the crossguard resembled an ancient chrono's gear.
Zakriahs crouched, guiding the blade’s tip to the groove with the bident near the tip. Obi-Wan’s hand wrapped around the gear, nodding when it turned after he gripped the pommel. Master and Padawan nodded together. Obi-Wan slipped the blade as far as it could sheath in the groove. Obi-Wan strained to twist the gear with one hand and the pommel in the other. Master Nivilin and Guilo backed away when a large portion of the wall extended outward and then twisted around to reveal an organized set of blasters and another layer of the wall behind it, which was also stored with weapons. Each wall slowly did the same as Obi-Wan kept twisting the tool until every wall had revealed walls and drawers beneath them lined with explosives.
“Talk about a turn of the tide,” Rex said after a moment. And Ahsoka couldn’t help but agree. She looked at the vibro-sword, noting how the crossguard gear glowed a dim golden light within the spaces while the groove on the floor glowed with the same light, illuminating the small portion of the ventilated floor.
“Psychometry showed you all of that?” Ahsoka asked Zak. He brushed a hand through his thorn bush hair, his eyes flickering and flinching like they were thorns.
“Sort of,” he said absently, “I also imagined there were people here who would keep their good toys to smash their weaker ones. This ship feels like a demented game…anybody else getting that feeling?”
“I know what you mean,” Obi-Wan said, a hand on Zak’s shoulder.
“I didn’t want to say it,” said Ahsoka softly. Truly, she hadn’t. Throughout her time here, she could feel her Togruta senses acting out between fight and flight as though the air itself contained some light switch that bore down on any of the cells that made up her being– that made her Jedi teachings, giving her more and more incentive to roar and run and sink her fanged teeth into something.
“We need to leave.” Rex stated.
“Agreed,” Obi-Wan replied, “Let’s start raiding.”
“One of you should devise a plan,” said Zak. Ahsoka blinked at that odd choice of words.
“I’ll sort through the weapons,” Rex said, “Young’un’s, come help me.”
Obi-Wan walked to the terminal, “I’ll review the ship’s schematics.”
The sense of a buildup could be felt and spread across the detention center as a plan was quickly, if tumultuously, devised. Every Republic soldier received their own orders, every Jedi dispersed among the large horde to act as a rear guard, and every non-solider was on edge at best, quaking at worst. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all they had. Ahsoka and Zak located the rest of Rex’s ARC equipment and little by little, Captain Rex was fully equipped for an escape plan. Once Rex hooked his dual DCs to his holsters, he decided it was time to drop the bomb.
“Still scared, right?” He said to Ahsoka.
“Yeah,” Ahsoka said softly, scanning the cache for her lightsaber, “but I remember what you said: I’ll follow your lead, and I’ll have your back.” Then, she scowled, “That woman…she must still have my lightsaber!”
“You can’t sense it?” Zakriahs asked, pulling out his lightsaber from one of the drawers.
“No,” Ahsoka said pitifully.
“Then,” Zakriahs maneuvered between the walls to reach her, “you better take mine.” He extended his out with the cylindrical rod extended to her, surprising Rex and Ahsoka.
“Oh,” she said, motioning her hands, “no, I couldn’t–”
“You can,” He said, “now use your hands, take it out of my hands and prepare to fight. We’ve no doubt there’s danger somewhere around here. Or around here somewhere? Both.”
“Zak!” She said, breaking his tangent, “That’s your lightsaber!”
“I’m aware.”
“Then–”
“Just take it!”
A moment passed, and Ahsoka lifted her hand unsurely before telekinesis brought the lightsaber to her hand. Rex couldn’t be sure, however, if the Force had pulled or pushed it to her hand. Even so.
“Are you two ready for this?” His voice sounded clear without the helmet lying by his feet.
“I guess I am/Yep, yep,” Ahsoka and Zakriahs said in unison.
“Because things have changed now,” He said, “On Christophsis, we were fighting droids. Now, though, we’ll have to take lives.”
There was a brief hesitation in their response.
“I heard about Tatooine, young’un,” Rex said simply to Ahsoka. She nodded on autopilot before trying to face him.
“I’ve taken the life of an akul before,” She admitted hoarsely, “I felt its life fade away and its pain ebb…I didn’t have time to do it on Tatooine. I told Master Shaak Ti about this, and she told me I had no choice.”
Rex nodded, “She knows what you’ve gone through. In times like these, the best I can do to defend you, to complete my mission to the Republic, is shoot them and move on. I’ll think about what comes next later.”
Ahsoka straightened her stance, breathing deeply with closed eyes, and while she still looked unsure, she nodded. Rex could finally admit that he empathized with her. His eyes drifted to Zakriahs, fiddling between a lightsaber and a blaster.
“We need to leave.” Zakriahs said, almost to himself, and then to Rex, “They’re in our way. Maybe if we were Jedi Knights, we could incapacitate them, but our skills will improve with every battle we survive.” He smirked, “They made a mistake, imprisoning us.”
Rex smirked back, feeling that Mandalorian pride welling within. “Yeah, that was a bad–”
“Mistake.” Ahsoka finished with a laugh. Rex looked between them, seeing something familiar he had seen before a battle.
“Well,” Zakriahs said, holding a DC-15a, “if you and Obi-Wan will have me, I have a suggestion for surviving this.” He grinned, “But we’ll need a lot of explosives. Maybe…” He muttered, then aloud, “50 ounces worth, at least.”