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The alley is dark; the only light a thin line that filters out from under the door. Ahsoka keeps a tight grip around the blaster; her remaining lightsaber, not forgotten, is at her side.
If Chewbacca’s wrong and she walks straight into the wrong place (clones, droids, unfriendly pirates), she’s at least going down with a fight.
She raps on the door like she was told. She waits.
A voice that sounds like Steela says “How’s the weather?”
“Foggy over Celadon City.”
The door slides open, “Ahsoka?”
Steela’s face comes into view, tenseness falling away as her suspicions are confirmed. A few familiar faces from Onderon are in the dingy room, but most of them are new. (How often do they need to find new recruits?) They eye her suspiciously.
Ahsoka can’t seem to loosen her hold on the blaster.
Steela puts a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder, “It’s good to see someone made it out alive.”
Her acknowledgement of good faith allows the room’s anxious mood to ease. If their leader is satisfied, they will leave it well enough alone. Implicit trust is remote to Ahsoka.
Automatically and unthinkingly, Ahsoka responds, “Same to you.”
Lux, at a table with Saw, leans forward, “We were sorry to hear about Generals Kenobi and Skywalker.”
Her expression must be muddled because Lux continues, as if to prompt her to say more on a subject she’d gladly forget forever. They are her private grief; let them stay that way.
“At least you can say your old masters gave Lord Vader a good fight – Kenobi especially.”
Oh, is that the fate the Empire’s assigned him now?
It’s not a complete lie, she’ll give them that. Anakin Skywalker is dead; she’s known for months. Now it’s everyone else’s truth as well. They are all gone for good.
She nods and makes a noncommittal noise. (What does he expect her to say?)
Steela shoots Lux a look and then speaks to Ahsoka, not unkindly, “They were good men; a great deal of help when no one else would support us, but you can’t go out looking for revenge.”
From his darkened corner, Saw scoffs, “Can’t she?”
Finally finding her voice and relaxing her hold, “Revenge won’t do anything – I’m going to protect what remains of the Republic; see it restored if at all possible.”
Saw laughs curtly, “You came to the wrong place for that, Tano. We’re all Separatists here.”
She half-grins. It makes her feel weary. Her light tone does not betray her mood, “Well, you Separatists would have done a lot better during the war if you had a Jedi on your side.”
The room roars with laughter.
----------
Ahsoka runs out of rounds in the middle of a firefight.
Her heart slows down and speeds up all at once. She’s faced death her fair share of times, but even in the worst moments, she is not ready. This is no different.
She’s broken the habit of reaching for her lightsaber; in her fumbling around for a different weapon, a figure in (almost) familiar armor bears down on her.
There is a split second realization and she wishes that just maybe –
A flash of light whizzes past her head and hits the trooper.
She whips around; Steela already pulls her up from the ground.
“Thank –”
Another trooper jumps out from her blind spot and years of training kick in. The trooper falls, gored through the stomach.
Steela laughs uneasily, “Now it’s my turn to say ‘thanks.’”
Ahsoka looks down at the two dead troopers. She shivers; knowing the faces behind the helmets makes it worse. A face that’s tried to kill her time and time again.
That night, as they watch the captured outpost burn, the rebels cheer for ‘victory.’
Ahsoka stares at the insignia that marks the captured goods, familiar, but with none of the old comforting meaning.
Lux hands her a bottle of something. She swigs and it feels like fire in her.
She yells for ‘victory’ just as loudly.
----------
“And why not?”
“Because, if you haven’t noticed, they aren’t going anywhere fast.”
“Neither are we!” snaps Steela.
Saw pounds the table with his fist, as if it proves his point, “At least two dozen destroyed Imperial bases; gods knows how many dead stormtroopers – how are we not leaving a message? Inaction will just get their lot killed.”
“Never mind that night raids and air assaults and bombings get our lot killed. We need money, we need resources. Admit it – you’d rather die than work with someone who’s working towards restoring the Galactic Republic, even if it means taking down the Empire!”
“Yes.”
Ahsoka closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. The death stick smoke swirls around the room, aggravating her headache.
She’s tired of the back-and-forth. Ever since the rumor started circulating that Bail Organa is organizing his own band of rebels, they have been split on whether or not to join forces with them. Steela and Lux see the political clout behind such an act; Saw and the rest cling to their independence.
Steela turns to Ahsoka, “What do you think?”
She is the only one in the meeting who has not spoken one way or the other.
“Senator Organa’s a good man. Senator Amidala thought very highly of him –”
At the mention of Padmé, Lux smirks at Saw; claiming Ahsoka’s voice for his side.
Ahsoka rolls her eyes. Men and their egos.
“However,” she looks pointedly at Lux, “As appealing as I think restoring the Republic would be; I’m concerned that Senator Organa still chooses to serve in the Imperial Senate.”
“So he’s in the Imperial Senate – probably covering for his rebels!” Lux protests, put out, but not defeated. Then under his breath, “Gods know we could learn from his subtly.”
Ignoring Lux’s last comment, “Probably, but we shouldn’t take any chances yet. We should be absolutely sure he isn’t playing both sides. We need allies, but we won’t be burned.”
The finality in her tone makes the others look at her curiously. She ignores them.
Steela pulls herself closer to the table.
“I agree; caution isn’t such a bad idea right now. Who are our other natural allies – smugglers, pirates, maybe neutral systems.” More bitterly than she intends, “What about talking to neutral systems, Saw? Does satisfy your need to avoid the remains of the Republic?”
He scoffs, “They’ll fall faster than Organa.”
An invisible hand wrings Ahsoka’s gut.
----------
Sweat mixes well with alcohol, Ahsoka finds. Their salt makes the whiskey all the more potent. (Absent tears would do the same.)
Steela’s gone. Their indomitable leader through the years gone in the blink of an eye.
Not even in battle either. Just a piece of crap Y-wing they scraped together the credits for off the black market with faulty mechanics; crashed and mangled beyond all repair. Ahsoka scrambled to the crash site; dug through flaming ruins. No remains to bury – only scattered ashes.
What a fucking waste.
(How will they all hold together after this?)
The others reminisce loudly; Saw is silent and glassy-eyed; Ahsoka spins her glass as if it is the most captivating thing in the galaxy. Her head buzzes. The slow repetition and heavy feel of the glass calms her, like meditation.
It takes her a long while to realize Lux is missing. He said he was getting another drink an hour ago and never returned.
She shoots a look over at Saw. He won’t move; everyone else will watch him.
She finds Lux (barely) propped up against a wall in a dim corridor. He looks as empty as Saw.
She hurts as badly; wants to offer condolences for the loss that will nag at him for the rest of his life, but doesn’t know what to say.
Instead she kisses him.
Fueled by grief, fueled by the cheap Dodbri whiskey, he kisses back.
Elbows scraping and banging against walls and corners, she collapses into a bunk, Lux, on top of her. Their stupid utilitarian belts are a pain in the ass to undo.
Lux’s mouth is on hers and then moves down faster than she expects. She wants to protest; for him to go slower, but she realizes, he might actually know what he’s doing.
Their shirts come off easier.
When she wakes, crick in her neck and stomach churning, she’s not sure where she is until she recognizes Talia’s knife collection, gleaming in the too-bright morning light.
Neither Talia nor Lux are there.
She finds Lux in the main room, crouched over Saw, who seems to have slept under the table she left him at the night before.
She hangs back in the doorway, letting them finish their quiet conversation. It’s not her business. This is not her rebellion. She is an impartial party. (She tells herself this over and over again.)
He comes over; neither can quite meet the other in the eye; identical dark smudges.
“Sorry. That won’t happen again.”
Her throat horse, “Right.”
Neither are sure if it’s true.
She let Steela get close; another big sister she wasn’t allowed lost to her. She indulged in old feelings she bottled away with the end of childhood; breaking the Council’s rules; breaking her rules.
All she has now is a shitty hangover.
----------
The Empire is good at keeping them on their toes, she’ll give them that.
Yavin 4’s thick underbrush makes running away difficult, but she can still leap over logs and vines with ease. Even if she can’t see clearly through the rainy mist, she can still sense where her compatriots are (Vaklu and Oron to the south, Lux to the north, Saw, somewhere to the west).
It is when she realizes Lux no longer follows that she panics. If he’s stopped moving back towards the ship, it only means one thing: capture and then –
No. She won’t let this happen again.
Saw yells from behind her; she doesn’t hear. She’s run from too many people. (All dead.)
She makes out figures through the fog; still obscured by distance and the climate, but she knows what follows if she doesn’t make it in time.
A blaster shot rings out. Lux falls backwards inelegantly.
She stops short; all air gone from her lungs as a half-strangled scream escapes.
She survives, not because of skill, but because the universe and the Force can only play cruel tricks on her. She allows compassion, empathy, and she dares (sometimes) love.
Death is her reward.
Her scream does not go unheard by the stormtroopers, barely a hundred of yards away. They run to the spot she remains rooted to.
She is finally ready.
A hand roughly grabs her coat from behind, dragging her away from where she stands and into a dark corner where they cannot be seen.
Saw slaps a hand over Ahsoka’s mouth; her breathing restored, rather loudly. She struggles to push him off, but he holds her down.
The stormtroopers are mere feet from their hiding spot. If they bother to look closely, Ahsoka and Saw are plain as day. Without the keenness of clone troopers, they easily miss the two rebels, panting heavily from physical exhaustion and extreme panic.
When the stormtroopers move far enough away for Ahsoka and Saw to emerge, she shoves him and storms off in the direction of their hidden ship.
She wants to cry, but tears don’t come. She wants to throw up, but dry heaving behind a tree does nothing.
Instead, she digs her fingernails into her palms and moves forward.
There will be no retrieving the body.
----------
Everyone hates going up against Ahsoka when it comes to knife throwing.
One night, gods knows how many years ago, Talia started throwing her extensive collection at Imperial recruitment posters; they all made it into a contest. Ahsoka didn’t see the point, but after much cajoling, joined in – beating every last one of them, including Talia. They all accuse her of cheating; she claims she considers the Force as much as others compensate for wind resistance.
She isn’t sure if it is the release or the winning, but she enjoys herself.
No one plays against her anymore.
She hits the third poster dead center when Saw says thoughtfully, “Assassination.”
She stops and twists her head in his direction. “I’m sorry?”
“We’ve tried targeting everything and everyone for nearly the past twenty years; why not assassination?”
She laughs humorlessly, “I think you’re getting touched in your old age.”
“I’m serious. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but the Empire needs to be destroyed from the top down before we can truly dismantle its hold on the galaxy.”
“The Emperor would be difficult, nearly impossible. He never leaves Coruscant and there’s the guards to get through. Tarkin is theoretically easier; he’s in and out of Mid Rim systems. We’d just need to get a hold of his schedule. Vader –”
“You can have Vader.”
“I’m flattered, but no.”
“Admit it, there’s still some taste for revenge left in you, or else you wouldn’t have hung around here all these years. You used to carry around two lightsabers, right? Take his for a prize and then throw his head to the Emperor – show him what the people of the galaxy did to his beloved pet.”
Saw stuck near a still-raw nerve. Why was she still with them? She has little interest in the senseless violence she carries out for them. Acts of destruction against the Empire are hollow.
If she wanted an excuse to go after Vader, she could have gone after him long ago, by herself. She would have even had her long-overdue wish for death – the oblivion that followed. (But there is something after – she does not want to face the dead and admit that she couldn’t accomplish what she was supposed to.)
No, she stays because it is safe, despite the mortality rate.
Both she and Vader will decay with time, not the swift death of battle; the more fitting end for the pair of them.
The Force is at once ironic and a bitch.
She throws another knife. It narrowly misses a new recruit, stupidly walking in front of her line of fire.
“I’m out of practice.”
“You’re the best fighter I’ve got. The honor is all yours.”
Saw’s earned a little honesty for the number of years he’s known her.
“I barely made it out the first time I engaged him. It’s been forever since I used my lightsaber. I won’t have beginners luck a second time.”
She’s not looking at him, but she can tell Saw’s mouth is agape.
“Scrawny, little kid Ahsoka Tano fought Vader and lived to tell the tale?”
“And it’s one I won’t be telling you any more of, so don’t even try.”
She throws another knife. It hits the beckoning image of Vader in the throat.
----------
The way Sanjay comes storming into their headquarters, one would think the Empire was defeated; eradicated for all time.
“There’s news from Coruscant! Old Organa’s own little rebels just destroyed a major war machine!”
Saw raises an eyebrow. “What did they really say?”
“Terrorists kill thousands; good citizens of the Empire ought to be outraged; something about billions of tax credits – our channels know Tarkin’s gone, though!”
“Vader? Anything about him?”
“Nothing, but I’d assume no news means he’s safe.”
Ahsoka sighs and leans back. Another break for him.
“So they got a lucky break.”
Saw’s language, eerily close to her own thoughts, startles Ahsoka out of her head.
“Did you really expect him to go down with Tarkin’s project?”
“Not Vader – the other rebels. We’ve been targeting Imperial bases and military targets for years and they’re the ones who rattle the cage?”
“Get to the point,” barks Talia.
Ahsoka shoots a cursory glance over at Saw. She hasn’t seen him look this exhausted since the day Steela died.
“I don’t think any of us will live to see the end of this. So Tarkin’s gone – the Emperor will just find another megalomaniac to replace him. He’s got enough of them fawning at his feet. Organa’s rebellion got the Empire’s secret weapon we’ve been hearing rumors about for the past few years, and lost all of Alderaan in the process.”
He buries his head in his hands. “They’re just mad because they lost a few years and a few credits’ worth of work. They’ll be back to their old superiority soon enough.”
All the faces around the room look stricken and tired. Twenty years of fighting the same fruitless war against an unstoppable enemy. It’s no wonder they take good news poorly. She’s fought the same battles as them; she knows their sentiments too well.
The Republic’s rebellion is all but obliterated; the Separatist rebellion only staggers forward.
They’ve made it this far through sheer force of will. They will need something more to see it to the bitter end.