The Clone Wars: Wild Space Read online

  She shook her head, then leaned back to look up at him. “No. No. I’m all right. How’s Obi-Wan?”

  “Recovering,” he said. “Padmé, you’re not all right. What’s happened? Tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”

  “Oh, Anakin…” She pressed her smooth palm against his cheek, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

  “And I love you. But you’re making me cross. What’s happened?”

  Taking his hand, she led him over to the sofa and pulled him down beside her. “Nothing’s happened. Not exactly. It’s just… Palpatine took me and Bail Organa on a tour of the bomb sites.” She shuddered. “They were awful. And after that, Bail and I visited some of the injured in the medcenters. That was even worse. Men, women, and children—humans and Twi’leks and Chalactans and Sullustans and, oh, a dozen other species. All maimed and disfigured, in so much pain… and for what? For nothing! For going about their lives harming no one, Anakin. Not a one of them could ever threaten a Separatist, but the Separatists hurt them anyway. It was Naboo all over again.” Her voice broke, and she hid her face against his shoulder. “I can’t bear it. And I can’t see the end of it. Sometimes I think this war will go on until every last one of us has drowned in blood.”

  “No, it won’t,” he said, holding her. “The Jedi won’t let it. I won’t let it. We’ll stop the killing, Padmé. I promise you. We’ll stop it.” His arms tightened. “What was Palpatine thinking? Those bomb sites weren’t safe. There could’ve been more explosions. He never should have taken you to them. You shouldn’t have had to see any of it, you shouldn’t have—”

  She pulled away. “Don’t.”

  “What?” Puzzled, he stared at her. “Don’t what? What do you mean?”

  “Don’t diminish me, Anakin,” she said, and smeared her cheeks dry with one unsteady hand. “Don’t think that because I’m upset, because I turn to you for comfort, that it means I’m weak or incapable of carrying out my duties.”

  “I’m not! I don’t think that!”

  “No?” Now her eyes were challenging. “Are you sure?”

  He had no hope of hiding anything from her. “Okay, so I want to protect you. What’s wrong with that? You’re my wife, Padmé. I love you and I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Is that a crime?”

  She kissed him, a swift sweet pressure of her lips on his. “No. Of course not. But I’m not just your wife, Anakin. I’m a Republic Senator. I don’t have the right to hide from the truth, no matter how brutal and ugly it is.”

  He frowned. “And what is the truth?”

  “That our only hope of winning this war was not letting it start in the first place.” She punched him gently on the chest. “Anakin, I hated every second of that tour this morning, and I hated seeing what those bomb blasts did to their victims. But I’m not sorry I saw it. I don’t wish I hadn’t gone. I’m heartbroken by the suffering and the waste. There’s a difference. Do you understand that?”

  Slowly, he nodded. “Yes. But do you understand what it does to me, seeing you cry over it? Don’t you know that your pain is my pain? That it kills me, knowing you might’ve been in danger? Padmé, if anything happened to you I’d lose my mind!”

  She took his flesh-and-blood hand and held it. “Oh, Anakin. Don’t be silly. We are going to grow old together, my love. Well…” She pulled a comical face. “Almost. Since I’m five years your senior, I’m actually going to grow old first. But the point is that we—”

  He pressed his black-gloved fingers to her mouth. “No,” he whispered. “The point is that without you, Padmé, I’m nothing. Without you, Anakin Skywalker doesn’t exist.”

  He watched her eyes widen and fill with tears. Watched those tears tremble on her lashes then fall to wet her pale cheeks. “Don’t say that, Anakin. Don’t ever say that.”

  “Why not? It’s the truth.”

  She bit her lip as she struggled for composure. “Are you staying tonight?” Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against his. “Stay tonight,” she whispered. “We’ll exist in each other.”

  “I can’t,” he said, hating himself. “I can’t even stay five more minutes. I have to get back to the Temple.”

  She drew away, her eyes abruptly bleak. “You’re leaving.”

  “Yes. Bothawui’s under threat from Grievous. I’m going to stop him. The mission’s top secret—you can’t let on you know.” Despite his pain, he smiled. “Padmé, they’ve given me a battle group. My own cruiser. The Resolute.”

  “I see.” She stood and wandered a few paces, to stare across the glittering cityscape. The droids had discreetly withdrawn. They were alone. “And Obi-Wan?”

  “He’s staying here. He was hurt pretty bad.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I will need Artoo.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Of course.”

  He joined her. Slid his arms around her from behind. She didn’t melt against him as she usually did. Instead she felt brittle. “My own command, Padmé. A chance, at last, to show the Council what I can do.” She didn’t answer. He tightened his embrace. “Aren’t you pleased for me? Be pleased for me, my love.”

  “I want to,” she said, her voice low. “But I’m too frightened.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, cajoling, and turned her to face him. “I’ll be fine, I’ll be—”

  “Anakin.”

  She was right. He was patronizing her. Humoring her, as though she were a child. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, my darling,” she whispered. “Don’t be sorry. Be careful. Come back.”

  He framed her face with his hands. “Always. I will never abandon you, Padmé.”

  They kissed, then, desperately… and held each other hard until he had to go.

  The Resolute was a beautiful ship.

  Standing with Master Yoda, Admiral Yularen, and battle-scarred Captain Rex, Ahsoka watched Anakin inspect the vessel’s pristine bridge. No blaster burns. No scorch marks from shorted wiring. No war wounds at all… but of course, that would soon change. Soon they’d be crossing paths with General Grievous and his merciless army of battle droids.

  She felt a tiny prickle of fright. No, no, no. Don’t think about that. We haven’t even left orbit yet. There’s plenty of time to think about that.

  She was excited… sort of… to be going into combat again. War was bad, of course. No sane sentient wanted it. But if there had to be fighting, at least she was fighting on the right side. Fighting against the forces of darkness. Fighting to protect everything the Jedi held dear—most especially the Republic.

  If we’re not prepared to fight for it, then we deserve to lose it.

  So yes, their cause was just… but that didn’t mean she couldn’t die defending it. It didn’t mean Anakin couldn’t die. Lots of Jedi had died already. Again she felt that prickle of fright. Sent a desperate plea out to the Force.

  Don’t let him be one of them. Don’t let me be the Padawan who gets the Chosen One killed.

  Her Master’s unguarded expression was tender as his gloved fingers trailed along every shiny, flat surface of his flagship’s bridge: the long-range scanning station, comms, helm, tactical, atmospherics. A tall, athletic figure in unrelieved black, the faintest of smiles curving his lips. Oblivious to his audience, to the urgency of their mission, he communed in leisurely silence with the newly commissioned cruiser. As though they shared a telepathic conversation. As though the ship were whispering secrets in his ear.

  Baffled, she marveled at him. I’ll never understand Skyguy. He loves machines like they’re living, breathing creatures. I just don’t get it. A ship is a tool, that’s all it is. How can anyone love a tool? It’s like saying you feel affection for a—a hydrospanner.

  Beside her, Master Yoda tapped his gimer stick to the deck. She didn’t think he was annoyed with her Master, but it was hard to tell. Yoda was the biggest mystery she’d ever met. All she knew for certain was that though he was the most accomplished living Jedi, he wasn’t so grand he coul
dn’t feel tense, too.

  “Anakin,” he said.

  Her Master turned, still smiling. “Master Yoda?”

  “Satisfied are you that in order everything is?”

  “Everything’s perfect, Master,” said Anakin, his smile widening to an unrestrained grin. “My compliments to the shipwrights. They’ve done a wonderful job.”

  “Then if satisfied you are, leave you I must,” said Yoda. “And for the Bothan system you should depart.”

  Sobering quickly, Anakin clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. “Yes, Master.”

  “In constant communication with us you will remain, Anakin,” said Yoda. “Your best judgment you must use, but take unnecessary risks you will not. Wily, Grievous is. Seek to distract you he will. Prepared you must be for his deceptions and feints. More than one battle you might have to fight.”

  Another respectful nod. “Yes, Master.”

  Yoda looked up at Admiral Yularen. “The importance of this mission you know, Admiral. Nothing else there is that I or the Council can tell you. May the Force be with you.”

  Yularen bowed. A soft-spoken and self-contained veteran who wasn’t afraid to bite when he had to, he was the perfect counterweight to Anakin’s fierce eagerness. “And with you, Master Yoda.”

  “Master…”

  Yoda looked back at Anakin. “A final question you have?”

  “A request,” said Anakin. “When you next see Obi-Wan, please tell him I said thank you and—I won’t let him down.”

  Ahsoka felt some of Yoda’s tension ease. “Know that he does, Master Skywalker,” he said, almost gently. “Know it as well does the Jedi Council.”

  She hadn’t been Skyguy’s apprentice for long, but it had taken very little time to figure out he and the Council bumped heads a lot. In fact, Padawan rumor had it he had stood up to them the very first time they met. Nine years old, and he was challenging the Jedi Council. Unbelievable. Did it matter to him now, to hear their endorsement of him? Did he care what they thought? Or was it only Obi-Wan’s opinion that counted?

  I don’t know. I can’t work it out. Sometimes he’s as big a mystery as Yoda.

  “Thank you, Master,” said Anakin. Giving nothing away. “May the Force be with you.”

  Yoda nodded. “And with you. Farewell… and good hunting.”

  The ancient Jedi Master departed then, and the Resolute’s crew leapt to obey Admiral Yularen’s clipped, succinct orders, preparing to break orbit. Anakin turned to Rex.

  “Your troops are settled, Captain? And ready for the fray?”

  Calm as always, his newly grown fuzz of blond hair bright under the bridge lights and his dented armor spotless, Rex nodded. “Yes, sir. They’ve adjusted well, and will do you proud.”

  Ahsoka felt a shiver of sorrow. They’d lost so many of the 501st at the Teth monastery. Replacement clones had been quickly assigned to the unit, but cohesion took time.

  I hope these new men stay around longer. Losing people is too hard.

  Anakin’s solemn expression had eased. “I’m sure, Captain. Rex…”

  “Sir?”

  “I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to take on Grievous without you.”

  Rex didn’t smile, because that wouldn’t be proper. But his jetblack eyes warmed, and he nodded. “It’s an honor to have your back, General. Now, with your permission, if there’s nothing more I can do for you here I’ll return to my men. They may be ready, but there’s no such thing as too much preparation.”

  “Of course,” said Anakin. “Captain, you’re dismissed.”

  Ahsoka smothered a grin as Rex, in passing, spared her a slow wink.

  The bridge was alive now, its crew staffing every station, the comm channels lively with chatter between Anakin’s flagship and her subordinate sisters, the Dauntless and the Pioneer.

  “Master Skywalker,” said Yularen, turning. Though he was admiral of the battle group, protocol dictated he defer to the Jedi Council’s representative. Unless, of course, said representative did something foolish—like forget to disengage an enemy transponder. Then he got barked at like any rank and file pilot. “All stations report ready. Commanders Vontifor and Isibray report ready.”

  “Very good, Admiral,” said Anakin. He sounded serene. Looked almost disinterested. As though he’d stood on this bridge a hundred times already; as though he’d been a battle group commander for years. All his life. “In your own time, break orbit and proceed as plotted to the Bothan system.”

  “Understood,” said Yularen. “Helm—”

  “And Admiral?”

  Surprised, Yularen raised a hand to the helmsman. “Master Skywalker?”

  “As soon as we’re clear of Coruscant, set the deep-space comsats to maximum gain and monitor all bandwidth chatter, no matter how obscure, until further notice. Advise the Dauntless and the Pioneer to do likewise.”

  Yularen hesitated, then cleared his throat. “That’ll prove a significant drain on power.”

  Anakin nodded. “I know. Do it anyway. I have a funny feeling our friend Grievous is in a playful mood.”

  Yularen had been around long enough to know that a smart man didn’t argue with a Jedi’s funny feeling. Especially not this Jedi. “Of course,” he said, and nodded to the officer at comms.

  Under cover of bridge business, Ahsoka gave Anakin’s sleeve a quick tug. “What does that mean, a funny feeling?” she asked, almost under her breath. “Do you know something I don’t, Sky— Master?”

  His glance down at her was severe. “The things I know that you don’t, Padawan, would fill a Corellian spice freighter. Twice.”

  Fine, all right, there was no need to get nasty. “Yes, Master,” she muttered.

  He relented. “You heard what Master Yoda said. Grievous is wily. We already know the Separatists have infiltrated Coruscant security. And this mission may be top secret, but it’s not like we can hide three brand-new Republic Cruisers. On top of that, a lot of the crew at the shipyard are civilians. Civilians go to cantinas and sometimes drink too much. And when they drink too much, they talk.”

  “About us?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just being overcautious. But I’d rather be overcautious than caught by surprise.”

  That made two of them. “Yes, Master.”

  The Resolute’s bridge was graced with an encompassing transparisteel viewport. Apparently content to let Yularen run the show, at least for the time being, Anakin withdrew to stand before it. Ahsoka hesitated, then joined him in staring down at glorious, gleaming, glittering Coruscant.

  She felt a pang. Is this the last time I’ll see it? I don’t want this to be the last time. I want to see it again, and again. I don’t want to die.

  Furtive, ashamed, she stole a sideways look at Anakin, expecting him to know what she was thinking, expecting a reprimand, a lecture. Instead she saw in his face something that shocked her, something she’d never expected: a dreadful, painful, frozen grief. So haunting, so piercing, it was like a spear of ice run through her. It seemed he had forgotten her completely, that in this moment only Coruscant existed.

  Does he see something I can’t? Does he know we won’t be back? Is he saying good-bye? Should I say good-bye, too?

  She couldn’t ask him. His sudden, unexpected misery had infected her, had choked her throat with scorching tears. She watched, her vision blurred, as he stretched out his naked human hand and pressed its palm to the viewport. Coruscant fractured beneath his wide-spread fingers.

  And then the planet fell away beneath them as his battle group broke orbit.

  Weary beyond even groaning aloud, Bail Organa returned from the Senate to the empty solace of his apartment. Voiceprint and a retinal scan verified his identity: the outer door slid open, and as he stepped across the threshold into the apartment’s foyer the lighting came on.

  “Reduce by a quarter,” he said, wincing.

  The illumination moderated. Sighing his relief, he unpinned and removed his dark green
cloak and slung it across the back of a chair. Then, as he kicked off his boots and stripped off his socks, he called for a playback of any received messages.

  Just one. His wife. Breha.

  Bail felt his heart thud, looking at her beautiful hologram face. “Don’t worry, B, nothing’s wrong,” she said, her image flickering, losing its cohesion. Ion storms somewhere between Alderaan and Coruscant; they always played havoc with galactic communications. “I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you. I was watching the HoloNet feed from the Senate. You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep? I’ll bet you’re not. Go to bed, hotshot. I’ll try to catch you tomorrow.”

  She flickered out entirely. Aching for her, unsettled, he wandered barefoot across the deep-pile carpet to brood on the extravagant light show that was Coruscant at night. No—the early morning. A time when sane people were in their beds, asleep.

  Three days had passed since the Separatist terror attacks and the city, it seemed, was itself again. More or less. Of course there’d been some adjustments. The damaged court buildings were still off-limits, under assessment for reconstruction, with current cases on suspension and new cases backing up until replacement judiciary officials were found and sworn in, as well as temporary premises arranged. Which wasn’t proving a simple task… Coruscant was such a crowded city. The same problem faced the various government officials who’d survived the attacks but lost their offices. There was an unseemly scramble for desks and holovids and every other kind of equipment.

  And of course extra multisector security measures had been put in place, devised largely by himself and Padmé. Why was it they were the only two members of the Security Committee who seemed capable of reaching a decision quickly? The rest of the committee appeared paralyzed. The whole kriffing Senate was paralyzed, as though the Separatists’ success had infected the entire government with inertia. Most of it, anyway. The Senators from worlds on the front lines of the fighting were energetic enough. They railed against Dooku and his allies, railed against the Jedi for failing to rescue them, and looked to the Supreme Chancellor for an instant, bloodless solution. And when Palpatine explained that wars took time to win, and the Jedi were fighting their hardest, when he did what had to be done—impose emergency levies on those worlds to help finance the blightingly expensive counteroffensive against the Separatists—they immediately railed against him.