The Unchronicled Adventures of Ahsoka Tano, Book Eight

Chapter Sixteen: One Of "Them"

KANAN JARRUS

Kanan Jarrus stood in his cramped room in the headquarters of a part of the rebel cell on Onderon. Because their movement was so vast – as were those in other systems who had rebelled against oppressive governments during the Clone Wars – they needed several subdivisions to keep their numbers small and undetected.

They had many supporters in the system and elsewhere, but sometimes numbers were a disadvantage. He knew that better than anybody.

With something close to a smile, he remembered how he’d first gotten involved with this group of radicals. He had never been one to get involved in conflicts, especially against the Empire. With his identity as a Jedi not too far beneath the surface, his safety was always at risk. But this time it had been different.

Kanan had been working on a cargo ship, part of a group of Talon Karrde’s people doing a job, when he had crashed on Morvolo, a planet in the Japrael system. He had accidentally on purpose cut a few key wires in the engine system, trying to get the ship to crash on Onderon, where he could jump the whole operation. He hadn’t liked the looks that Karrde was giving him.

But instead, the navi-computer had gone haywire, and sent them careening towards the barren, frozen planet next door. He had been the only survivor. The Onderonian rebels had found him, and given him food and shelter. He felt that it was only fair to repay them by risking his neck, which he almost never did.

But times were changing. Something about Saw Gerrera, the man who was his commander until he chose to move on, made him actually want to fight, to stand up for what the Empire had done. Saw was a man who had clearly assumed command before. Perhaps in the famed rebellion against the Separatists on Onderon all those years ago, when Jedi had even gotten involved…

But Kanan wasn’t going to think about the Jedi. Or he was going to try not to, anyways. He was trying to put his past behind him, to better his chances of survival in this harsh new galaxy. Again, emphasis on the word trying. It wasn’t working.

On impulse, he pulled two components of a small, cylindrical device from their places on his belt. Screwing them together ever so carefully, he fingered the button that he hadn’t pushed in nearly six years. Not since before the beginning of the Empire, when he had watched Master Billaba die for him…

Ignoring the sense of foreboding that holding it gave him, he closed his eyes and turned hit the button. Despite all things, the long-forgotten snap-hiss of the blue beam of pure plasma coming into contact with the air made him smile. He opened his eyes again, assuming a Form III stance. His Master had taught him well…

“That’s a nice lightsaber you’ve got there, Jarrus,” Kanan suddenly heard a voice say. Whipping around, he realized that in his recovered joy of holding his lightsaber again, he hadn’t heard the door open. There stood Commander Gerrera, leaning against the doorframe.

“And I’m not afraid to use it,” he said, gripping the handle a little tighter.

Saw walked into the tiny living space, paying no attention to the blade that was pointed in his direction. “There’ll be no need for that. I had a feeling, you know. That you were one of them.”

“One of them? My, the distain for the Jedi has grown!” Kanan fired back, the sarcastic side he had developed in the last few years getting the better of him.

“Your way of interpreting what others say leaves some to be desired, you know.” Saw shot him a meaningful look. “I said it with praise. Admiration, even. Being distinguished as a Jedi will earn my respect in a heartbeat. In fact, the people I’m calling on to help our cause might just have other Jedi with them.”