“Kaeden, I need you to wake up,” Ahsoka said. “I need your help for the next part of this.”
“Ashla—Ahsoka, you shouldn’t have come,” Kaeden said. It sounded as if she were talking to a dream, but at least her voice was low. “They want you so bad, Ahsoka. They want you dead.”
“Shhh, I know,” Ahsoka said. “It’s okay. I can take care of myself. But first I need to take care of you. Can you help me?”
Kaeden tried to answer, but her eyes rolled back, and Ahsoka wasted precious seconds trying to decide if it was safe to shake her. She pulled Kaeden to her feet and took measure of the girl’s wobbly stance and broken limb. This was going to be difficult but not impossible. She put her hands on Kaeden’s shoulders, gently, mindful of the injured arm, and breathed a sigh of relief when the girl’s eyes refocused.
“Okay,” Ahsoka said. “I am going to climb out the window and then pull you out behind me. It’s going to hurt, but I need you to be as quiet as you possibly can.”
Kaeden managed a nod, but nothing else. They were going to have to do this one step at a time, because every step forward was an improvement over their current situation.
Ahsoka hoisted herself out the window and then leaned back in for Kaeden. It was an awkward position. Her head was too big, and her shoulders were at a wrenching angle. She used the Force to pull Kaeden up and maneuver her through the narrow opening, and then lowered her to the ground before jumping down after her.
“Can you run?” she asked.
Kaeden cradled her arm against her chest, her head clearer now that she was in the open air. Ahsoka couldn’t carry her all the way back to safety, but something—either panic or determination—had reinvigorated Kaeden. She was solid on her feet, and her eyes had lost a bit of their drug-induced glassy sheen. They had about three minutes before a patrol came around the corner, and quite a bit of ground to cover.
“I don’t really have a choice,” Kaeden said, and they took off, moving as quickly as they could.
Ahsoka led the way. There was no time for diversion, and no real need of it, so she just went straight to her tiny house on the edge of town. It was unguarded, and the lock was still intact. She and Kaeden went inside just as the sun was coming up. It was all Kaeden could manage for now.
“We’ll wait until dark,” Ahsoka said, “and then head back to the caves.”
“No, Ahsoka,” Kaeden said. She lay down on the bed, completely spent. “You have to go now.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Ahsoka said. She filled a canteen with water and helped Kaeden as she struggled to sit up and drink.
“Yes, you are,” Kaeden told her as Ahsoka eased her back down. “I saw his face when he talked about you, the Imperial commander. Ahsoka, he wants you dead just to see you die, and he’s not going to be nice about it. You have to take your ship and leave. Now.”
The worst part was that Kaeden was right, and Ahsoka had known it since before she’d pulled her out of that cell. Staying wouldn’t just endanger Ahsoka, but everyone else, as well.
“I’ll come back for you. I promise,” Ahsoka told her, her voice as steady as she could manage.
It wasn’t just that she was leaving her friends; she was leaving her friends again. This time, at least, she’d been able to commit one act of heroism before being forced away. Kaeden was safe.
“You’ve done more than enough for us already,” Kaeden said. “We were just too stupid to see it.”
“I’m coming back,” Ahsoka repeated. Then she paused. “Thank you. For taking me in when I got here. Even though I kept things from you.”
“The galaxy’s a lot bigger than Raada,” Kaeden said. “It took me a while to understand that.”
Ahsoka reached into her pocket, where the pieces of discarded tech were still tightly wrapped in their packaging. She was close to something, but she wasn’t close enough.
Ahsoka didn’t need darkness for cover the way Kaeden would. She was faster and she could deal with any pursuit. She could get to her ship and make her escape. She had to let go of her feelings. She looked over at Kaeden one last time, and then she left.
THE MIDDLE OF a battlefield was a less-than-ideal place for in-depth self-reflection, but Anakin Skywalker was a well-trained Jedi and more than up to the challenge. In the time since he had ceased to be Obi-Wan’s Padawan learner, he’d come to appreciate the independence of being his own master. Of course, he still had to follow the Temple rules and go where the Jedi Council sent him, but he was a general now. And the clones were his to command.
It was all very different than he’d imagined, when he was still that little boy back on Tatooine who had looked up at the stars and known that there was something better for him. The galaxy was much more complicated than Master Qui-Gon had let on, and while he was grateful for Obi-Wan’s teaching, sometimes Anakin couldn’t help but wonder how things would be different if Qui-Gon had lived. For all the Jedi disapproved of attachments, there was nothing in the galaxy that was ever truly untethered. Anakin’s own unofficial return to his birth planet had proved that well enough.
And now Anakin was attached: by his oaths to the Temple and to Padmé, his unspoken but no less sincere promises to Obi-Wan, his responsibilities as a commander of troops in the Republic army. The clones had been intended as a faceless mass, but already they were exhibiting undeniable signs of individuality, and Anakin didn’t doubt they would continue to do so.
Perhaps this new Padawan that Obi-Wan had requested would help give him perspective. Anakin was reluctant to bring someone with no practical combat training this far out into the war. Christophsis was a dangerous place, even for two Jedi of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s skills, and they’d already proven that they could take the planet only to be at risk of losing control immediately afterward. At the same time, Anakin knew that there was no guarantee of safety for a Padawan anywhere anymore, and he knew from personal experience that Obi-Wan Kenobi was the best of teachers. Plus, this time around, he’d have Anakin to help him.
Or at least, he would if Obi-Wan wanted.
Anakin wasn’t entirely sure what his place next to Obi-Wan would look like once his friend had a new student. Jedi weren’t as married to the concept of two as the Sith were, but most of them acted singly or in pairs. It was one of the reasons Anakin had never put in for a Padawan of his own. He didn’t want it to look like he was pushing Obi-Wan aside. Now, Obi-Wan had gone and done it first, and Anakin still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
He surveyed the battlefield below him for the hundredth time since the shooting had stopped. It would only be a matter of time before the Separatists tried to take another crack at the Republic heavy weaponry, and Anakin wanted to be sure he was ready for anything when that happened, even if it involved incorporating Obi-Wan’s Padawan into his strategy.
Maybe it would be for the best. The addition of a younger Jedi would constantly remind Obi-Wan that Anakin was old enough for more responsibilities, that he was that much closer to being a master in his own right. And getting different assignments than Obi-Wan wouldn’t be so bad, either. It might even give him the opportunity to spend more time with Padmé. On strictly official business, of course.
Anakin looked upward as a new sound split the air above where he was perched. A Republic messenger ship had broken through the Separatist blockade. He hoped it would carry the beginnings of their reinforcements, enough to start turning the tide of the battle on the planet’s surface. Anakin told his clone commandos to hold their positions and then went off to meet Obi-Wan. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that his life was about to change.