Ahsoka shot up from where she lay screaming, an olive hand striking her across the face and her right shoulder being throttled.
“AHSOKA!!…. wake up!” Kowani bellowed, her voice echoing chaotically throughout the small dwelling.
Her immediate question answered, yes, she was alive, but where then was she, was her mind. The dream if it was a dream, seemed so incredibly real to her, they always did. The Organa’s, the Palace, Aldera...the planet, all gone in an instant. She dreamed death, but the sorrow, grief and utter helplessness remained, even now.
“Ahsoka dammit!! Wake UP!!” Kowani shouted again, her tone quite dire.
“I’m up, I’m up...what happened?” Ahsoka mumbled through her numbness.
“It’s Master Yoda, something has, is, happening to him!”
Ahsoka tried blinking away the foggy stupor she was muddled in and found it incredibly difficult to focus much less aid someone else...” Master Yoda” she said, clarity returning, however sporadically. “What, Where??” She managed.
“Ahsoka, he bent over with his hand on his chest and fell to the ground. He’s shaking!” Kowani stammered. “He keeps repeating ‘They’re all gone’ and refused any aid.”
Ahsoka’s senses returning to her own control, she looked over to see the tiny green being slumped over in a heap, kicking madly at odd intervals and repeating Kowani’s words verbatim.
“Master.” Ahsoka spoke slowly and spun herself around to crawl over to him. As soon as she moved, voices, thousands, millions, billions of voices filled her head, screaming out in a cacophony of torment and anguish. Her head pounded immediately, and nausea gripped her tightly. What should have been a three second crawl to Yoda’s side was instead going to be a trial of the tallest order. Each movement her body made brought constant and torturous pain, each muscle a digit of fiery conflagration.
Kowani immediately regretted waking her. She could see Ahsoka in the throes of immense agony, each movement toward the Master brought a squeal of pain, although she was unsure of its source. She noticed, however subtly, that the flows of the Force, which had been a raging current up to this very point, had become nothing more than a steady trickle, avoiding the ailing Force users completely. This made no sense whatsoever to her, they should be basking in its embrace BECAUSE of what they were both clearly going through, not cut off from it! Deciding to utilize the only skill she had, she slid off her knees and shot between the two. Placing an outstretched hand on Ahsoka’s head and the other on Yoda’s abdomen, she immediately understood their affliction. Too many voices to count screamed in her head, too many lives caught in oblivion’s wake. She let them all in. All the questions with no answers, all the pain, all the emptiness, all of it, she let in. Then, just as quickly, focused it all away from the three of them. Out the door, out a window, into a tree, wherever, she didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t here.
The inexplicable was arduous initially and she felt defeated before she thought she had even accomplished anything, but then the channeling took hold and she felt the passage of all the torment and sorrow, the agonizing screams of the unknown. The flow picked up intensity and was passing through her and out of her nondescript, nothing lasting long enough for her to identify clearly and with that agony receded. She opened her eyes to a haze of initial red from having them shut tightly and as her vision cleared, she found the other two lying under her hands, docile and limp. Their pain was still present but through her intercession they were much less affected by the deluge of suffering. She noticed them both taking in lungs full of air, their chests rising and falling slightly, Ahsoka’s open mouth blowing small wafts of dirt and dust about. She maintained the interaction and would for as long as they needed her. She felt something she hadn’t in an exceedingly long time, so infrequent as it was that she wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. The emotional turbulence she had undergone since meeting this Togruta was both welcome and abhorred simultaneously, yet she would never freely admit to wanting it to cease. As she look down upon them, she felt the opposite of what was channeling through them. Joy, pride, euphoria, contentment. Rapture. They were both at their most vulnerable and she was able to provide for them both. She had a purpose. There it was. She had reason. Nothing about her life was truly worth living without reason. Whatever the future held for her, she knew it would be tied to either one of, or both of, the people with her in this room. She reverted her full attention back to her channeling, a smile beaming on her face from ear to ear. Whatever had happened, that made these two its beneficiary, had not eased one bit. Not wanting to wade back into the flow of grief, despair, and tribulation, she simply observed. Having no way to determine its source or importance she could only be empathetic to its cause. Something extraordinary had taken place, that much was clear. A devastating loss of life the likes of which had torn the fabric or rationality from the two under her warm hands. All she could sense was tragedy on the grandest of scales. The flows into and from Yoda and Ahsoka began to wane somewhat which pulled her consciousnesses back into what was transpiring before her eyes. Yoda’s breathing was more regular, and he began blinking his eyes rapidly, a glance in Ahsoka’s direction revealed the same scenario. They both groaned heavily and picked their heads off the dusty floor.
“Welcome back.” Kowani said to them. “Would someone mind telling what is happening?” She dared not disengage the hold she had on them.
“Devastation. Diabolic obliteration, yet measured, calculated.” Yoda was the first to answer. “A loss of life, tremendous it was.”
“Alderaan.” Ahsoka managed hesitantly. Although from exertion or hesitation she couldn’t truthfully say.
Yoda looked over at Ahsoka astonished, not even he knew the precise source.
“They are all gone, all dead. The planet is gone.” She added.
“How? What? That doesn’t even make sense!!” Kowani stammered. “That could only be possible if the intel was correct on the Empire’s weapon!”
“Assume it is, then assume they have another.” Yoda said. “Diabolic indeed the Emperor is. To measure depravity, in that man, always assume the worst.”
“There is another, rumored to be in the Endor system.” Kowani counseled. “I made the alliance aware of that very fact not that long ago actually.”
“You knew Ahsoka. How?” Yoda had not stopped looking in her direction.
“I.” She paused briefly, unsure how the truth would sound. “I was there.”
Kowani just stared at her.
“I know...I know it sounds crazy…. but I was there.” Ahsoka said, sobbing. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, tears lining her cheeks as the memory was still so fresh. “I was trying to convince Senator Organa to leave the planet, to take as many as he could with him. But it was too late Master.” She said, looking at Yoda, choking through the words as they mingled with emotion. “Then a bright flash of green from the sky…” she trailed off, the words lost on her, no need to vocalize them if they had.
“Again, I say then, if one they have and you know of another, then assume there is yet another beyond even that.” Yoda said with all sincerity.
“The likelihood is astronomical at best!” Kowani said.
“Only because Sidious has been underestimated so often.” Yoda admitted.
All three of them looked to the dust swirls in the earth packed floor of Yoda’s home, quiet, contemplative in their own minds as the small fire danced dark shadows in every recess and corner its light could not touch.
His mother lay dying in his arms. He stares at himself holding onto the last vestiges of life from the broken body he cradles. Powerless to stop death’s incursion. Too weak to stand against what he feared to lose the most. With empty eyes he sees himself weep, willing her to cling to life but for a moment longer. She hasn’t the breath nor the energy to convey all she wishes to say to her son. He sees the weakness in her for not trying to overcome the encroaching theft of her own life. ‘Do something’ he chides himself, yet even as he looks upon the scene as a spectator, he hasn’t the ability to sway the inevitable. He curses himself for his weakness. All that stirs is his anger….and fear. “Where is my strength” he says.
As he looks on, yet again, he wants to tear the throat from the Jedi Master that counseled him on fear. He sees the scars on his mother’s face and tells himself that peace is a lie. There is only passion. Yet what passion was there to be found in this scene. The primitive trappings adorning the canvas and stucco facade of the makeshift tent only fomented his resolve to slaughter. Slaughter whom, or what, he did not care, only to become an instrument of death. Death for a death. Many deaths for his mother’s life. ‘Fear leads to anger.’ “Get out of my head.” he spat. ‘there is only passion, through it I gain strength.’ She speaks words he cannot hear, not for lack of vocalizing but because his anger is overpowering. “I am Schmi.” She says, “And you are my son.” The fiery tendrils of anger consume the young man holding her. His blood pumps hot in his veins as the anger evolves to hatred. Hatred of the Tuskens. Hatred of this planet for breeding such insolent sheep that would resort to abductions and raiding parties. Hatred of the Jedi for taking him from her. She needed him here. ‘Through my strength, I will gain power’ he says in his mind as he clenches his hand into an inhuman robotic grip. The boy brushes small tendrils of his mother’s hair out of her face and runs a finger along the trench remaining from a scar at her cheek. The hate boiling into a contentious roil, ready to spread suffering across the galaxy. “Through power, I gain victory” He rasps, unable to vocalize many of the syllables. ‘Hate leads to suffering’ he closes his eyes. Yes, the suffering. “The entire galaxy will suffer as I have” he croaks. She says something else to the boy, but he can never hear it, had never been able to. Only the pounding of the blood in his veins and the tortured screams of the Tuskens that fall to his blade, a swirling blue implement of death. “Through victory my chains….” he cannot finish the statement, the sentiment lost, its meaning unknown to him. The chains are his to bear and will never be broken…. all that is left is suffering. Despite his best efforts, his concentrated will and raging desire to do so, he could not kill Anakin completely. And he knew his master shared this knowledge.
✦
“There is a personal entry by a Master Obi-wan Kenobi sir, previously filed under sub-heading 55319 due to encryption level employed. Pertaining to a mission debriefing shortly following activity labeled ‘unknown.’ Shall I attempt to reconstruct the source file? In its current state, I am afraid the holoimage will not be stable.” 11-4D enunciated, in a deep electronic baritone.
“Do both droid.” Palpatine firmly instructed, his attention planted on the view screen before him where he was, yet again, watching footage of the Togruta on Nar Shaddaa, poring over every frame with intense scrutiny in the hopes of gleaning another piece of the puzzle that was eluding him.
“Straight away sir.” Its dim red photoreceptors remained focused on the access terminal view screen before it, commslice appendage rooted into the network port, it rotated its holo projector toward its master.
Static hissed from a field of blue where a life size image was crackling in and out of focus and resolution, between the droid and Palpatine. Broken audio from the initiated feed was incoherent at best but the state of the image, the Jedi seated, a hand on his forehead, no outer robe, suggested that this recording was of a personal nature and would be devoid of greetings or any formal pleasantries.
“Stop.” He commanded. “Reconstruct audio primary, visual is irrelevant.”
The projector dimmed and the image disappeared completely.
Without having to expend resource on formatting and compiling visual aspects, 11-4D was able to navigate the text of the recording, adding in components through context and began playing back what it had compiled while it was finishing the task in its entirety.
“I fear the counsel underestimates the gravity of the ordeal.” Clearly the voice of Obi-wan with only a modicum of synth interjection began. “Although the trial was that of Anakin, his Padawan was more greatly affected I believe. Representative of a single element or influence of the Force itself, she was unable to recognize a sense of self through it, and for lack of a better term, succumbed to them in their entirety. This presents something of an enigma to me that I found no agreement on. To be a vessel, an instrument, for either the light or dark side is to feel, in my opinion, their very essence. That will undoubtedly have lasting effects. This cannot be proven or disproven through any method known to me, but I do not believe ‘proving’ my theory is the point. Was the death of the Father symbolic?”
“Droid, pause.” Palpatine barked. Obi-wan’s question still echoing in the suite of his personal residence as the recording ceased immediately. ‘The Father’ he thought. Referencing his memory for the term, he recalled the images from the temple on Lothal and the final conversation with Minister Hydan before his untimely demise. “The Father is the conduit for a balanced Force, he, or it, cannot die outright.” His command of the Force was proof of that, although that command lay entirely one sided. “He can only be a construct therefore.” He closed his eyes and retreated to the recess’ of his mind. ‘A construct needs a basin, else it is dispersed and lost to the universe.’ Logic was the simplest form of deduction. “He supposes then that this Togruta is more than just a sentient being.” Voicing his own thoughts, eyes still closed. “Such imminent power would result in something so tangible.” The vastness of the statement surprised him. His mind reeled from the possible implications if this were the case, the myriad possibilities...and opportunities that could arise. “Continue droid.”
“All three entities were abound in mortal form, but for our benefit I feel, otherwise the message would be lost to comprehension.” Obi-wan’s voice began again. “This does not explain the sacrifice of the Daughter however, again, expelling the entirety of her essence through Anakin but only to take up residence in Ahsoka. Twice in as many encounters she had been lost to her sense of self to be that vessel for the purity of a single element of the Force. The lasting effects of having been ‘touched’ by both the dark and light sides of the Force cannot be ignored. This brings me to the point of exhaustion with the counsel as they do not agree with me on this. They insist the Father was symbolic, yes, but that a ‘balance’ does not require a construct to channel it. It is foolish to assume that the two sides would come to some beneficial medium on their own. No, the balance must be maintained objectively as the need for either to eradicate the other is inherent, and that balance must have form. I stand alone in my thoughts on this, although Master Yoda was in his usual contemplative form and did not make a stand either way.”
“Droid pause.” Again, the voice of Obi-wan drifted off, echoing, into the vastness of the chamber. Palpatine brought a finger to his chin and sat back in his high-backed but aesthetically unassuming chair. Obi-wan had a very valid point ‘just like the Jedi to dismiss the idea before it had been nurtured,’ he thought to himself, and found himself agreeing with Obi-wan’s conclusion to a certain degree. His own research into Ahsoka had yielded little after her self-dismissal from the order, according to the records, although he knew a deeper truth in that she was given the choice, and how appropriate that choice was. There was record of a minor instance on the moon of Raada regarding the Togruta, but it could have been nothing more than the exiled Jedi on the run, nothing of depth to pique his interest. Referring to the precedent of the Father, he slid forward in the chair and entered several key words into the terminal, an instantaneous response listed several entries but most of them were made by the late Minister and his findings on Lothal. Noting how meticulous the Jedi were about record keeping, he found it both interesting and peculiar that no mention of the topic could be found anywhere within the besieged archives. There was only one that had not been authored by Hydan. Labeled ‘Mortis,’ it was an entry made into the military database under ‘Phenomena’ by a Captain Rex:
‘Under orders from Admiral Yularen, we had assembled a heavily armed strike force and were to rendezvous with Jedi Masters Skywalker, Kenobi and Padawan Tano in response to a distress call deep within the Crelythiumn system. Outside of scanner malfunction and conflicting reports from all three aboard the other vessel, there was no substance to the distress call, and we were ordered to stand down straight away. Debrief will reflect my field notes above.’
And that was it. “Mortis” Palpatine played with the word verbally, trying to issue some importance from hearing it and noting that the heading mentioned it, but the report did not lead him to believe immediately that this report was most assuredly inaccurate at best. More research was needed on his own but perhaps an account from his very apprentice could prove useful. “Is there any more Droid?”
“Yes, in fact, shall I resume?” came an immediate response.
“Yes.”
“It had never been my belief that there was any credence to a prophecy, however it had been stated throughout” ...static hissed as the droid was unable to fulfill the needed context to string together a coherent message…. then picked up again. “However, I believe that whatever we experienced individually was much more profound than what was experienced collectively. Anakin spoke little of those events and Padawan Tano spoke nothing at all. We had not decided to withhold information, it just simply wasn’t available to recall. I will speak more with Master Yoda on this and meditate.” The hissing static resumed, and the message began from the beginning.
“Droid, end transmission.” Palpatine said with a measured tone, steepling his fingers and letting an irritated sigh escape his pursing lips as a deep baritone laughter issued forth from the recesses of his deepest mind, laughter that was not his.