The Young Republic | A Star Wars Story

Chapter 13

Dig up the dead to save the living

"If you ignore the past, you jeopardize the future."

The seventh strike went up.

Ahsoka sat on top of a crashed ship, watching the sky. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew she ought to let the men know this was their last day. But Ahsoka couldn't do it yet, didn't have the courage to.

Ahsoka believed in Xena and knew they would retake the plant with the signal towers. But as she looked towards the Northeast, she could see the battalions of battalions of droids headed their way. Even if Xena and co made it, the chances that they would get the towers up and running in time for the backup to arrive were very slim.

"Commander Tano."

Ahsoka looked down at the Clone that addressed her. It was Cody.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Should I let the men know? Of the signal."

Ahsoka sighed. "Yes, Cody. And tell them to be ready for an attack. The droids will reach us in a few hours."

Cody saluted before turning away. Ahsoka decided to jump down, her ankle now healed enough to carry her weight. It was also time for her daily visit to her Master and Obi-Wan.

Neither of them had woken up yet. Ahsoka had been sensing Anakin's consciousness, but he seemed to be focusing his strength on helping Obi-Wan instead of trying to wake up. It was comforting, at least, knowing that her Master could potentially wake up if he so desired. Ahsoka had been tempted to coax him out of his coma, to ask him to leave Obi-Wan alone so he could be awake and speaking.

But every time Ahsoka looked over at Obi-Wan, she smothered her desire to have a conscious Master. If Obi-Wan's survival depended even a little bit on Anakin's full attention, then so be it. Ahsoka can stand to be on her own for a bit.

Even in the horrible position they were in. The rain had been a constant nuisance, only sparing them from the sixth day. But even then, it was cold and clammy. It felt like Ahsoka was constantly sweating from the dampness on her skin, even if she was too cold to warm up her own hands.

"Hello, Master," Ahsoka greeted a still Anakin, sitting down next to the makeshift bed he was lying on. It was just a bunch of grass bundled together, dry at least.

"It's the seventh day, so Xena and the others should be close to the signal towers," Ahsoka informed, like she always did. "If we're lucky, they are already there, sorting everything out. They shouldn't have a problem, considering almost all of the droids are heading our way... Master..."

Ahsoka took a shaky breath, taking hold of Anakin's hand. "Master... I don't know what to do. I want to believe Xena will make it, that she will save us. But... I don't know, what if she is too late? What then? I don't want our men to die as sitting ducks... But I don't know what else to do. There is nowhere to run, no place to take cover, and no backup. We only have ourselves... and I don't know if that will be enough."

Ahsoka felt the tears dripping down, and if it had been any other time, she would have been ashamed to cry about a mission. But this had been a taxing time. Physically and emotionally. It had only been the day before when Ahsoka and Cody had buried the last body, one of the hundreds that weren't lucky enough to make it to the surface alive.