could be a Jedi, too?”
Rex stuck an elbow into his ribs. “Some Jedi you’d make. You’d give the other Padawans nightmares.”
“Now look what you’ve done, Captain,” said Coric, miming heartstruck sorrow. “You’ve gone and hurt my tender feelings.”
They were trying to cheer her up. Distract her. Distract themselves, too. For all they were hard men, seasoned soldiers, not given to softness or sentimentality of any kind, they adored their general.
Because she couldn’t tell them any more, and because she was so very tired of thinking about it, of worrying about Skyguy, Ahsoka changed the subject.
“So are you boys on furlough?”
Rex nodded. “Don’t know for how long. Nobody’s told us.” And they knew better than to ask. “We’ll take another day or two of R and R, then we’ll get back to training while we wait for the next deployment. But if General Skywalker’s not back by then…”
Ahsoka felt her guts tighten. “I don’t know. Nobody tells me anything, either.” She nearly added,
And it’s not fair
, but caught herself just in time. She had no business whining about
not fair
to these clones.
“Ah well, little’un,” said Rex, with his most sardonic grin. “This is the life, isn’t it? This is what we signed up for. Hurry up and wait. Long stretches of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.” Leaning forward again, he patted her on the knee. “So I say we play darts. What d’you reckon?”
And there was her heart, breaking all over again for love of him. Such a decent man, he was. She bounced to her feet, determined not to disappoint him.
“I reckon I can take you, Captain Rex.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” Rex retorted, a twinkle in his eyes. And then it faded and he was the serious clone captain again. “But little’un—when the time comes? When you and the general need us?” He jerked his thumb at Coric, equally somber by his side. “Just say the word and we’ll be there.”
She had to wait a moment, swallowing hard. “I know you will. And so does he.” She leapt up. “Now come along and get thrashed at darts.”
Early the next morning Jedi Master Taria Damsin tracked Ahsoka down in the Temple arboretum, where the grass was cool and moist and the tumbling waterfall filled the warm air with spray and bright sound.
Discreetly inspecting the Jedi Master, Ahsoka thought she seemed perfectly recovered from their wild mission on Corellia. Either Taria was an excellent actress, or her Boratavi syndrome was back under control.
My guess is it’s a bit of both
.
“Ahsoka,” said Taria, as cheerful as ever. “I’ve been thinking.”
Unfolding from her final meditation pose—
a flower stem bends and does not break in the wind
—Ahsoka treated the older woman to a grin.
“Thinking? That’s dangerous. Should I be afraid?”
“Cheeky brat,” said Taria. “Now listen. I know you hate that you’re stuck here, waiting for word from Masters Kenobi and Skywalker. There’s nothing worse than being left behind when your Master’s off on a mission that doesn’t require a Padawan’s presence. And the Force knows that after Corellia my appetite’s been whetted for something a little less sedate than research in the library. So what do you say we get a nice little competition going? Something to challenge the senior Padawans that’ll challenge us at the same time.”
“That sounds intriguing,” Ahsoka admitted. “What kind of competition?”
Taria’s tawny eyes were alight with mischief. “A race through the new training dojo. Two teams—we lead one each. First team to light the beacon at the top of the mini city’s central tower wins.”
“Wins what?”
“Bragging rights, of course,” said Taria, grinning. “What else?”
The new training dojo, completed a few days before the mission to Kothlis, took up all of the Temple’s massive sublevel nineteen. Tricked out with artificial atmospherics and randomly generated zero-g
Rex stuck an elbow into his ribs. “Some Jedi you’d make. You’d give the other Padawans nightmares.”
“Now look what you’ve done, Captain,” said Coric, miming heartstruck sorrow. “You’ve gone and hurt my tender feelings.”
They were trying to cheer her up. Distract her. Distract themselves, too. For all they were hard men, seasoned soldiers, not given to softness or sentimentality of any kind, they adored their general.
Because she couldn’t tell them any more, and because she was so very tired of thinking about it, of worrying about Skyguy, Ahsoka changed the subject.
“So are you boys on furlough?”
Rex nodded. “Don’t know for how long. Nobody’s told us.” And they knew better than to ask. “We’ll take another day or two of R and R, then we’ll get back to training while we wait for the next deployment. But if General Skywalker’s not back by then…”
Ahsoka felt her guts tighten. “I don’t know. Nobody tells me anything, either.” She nearly added,
And it’s not fair
, but caught herself just in time. She had no business whining about
not fair
to these clones.
“Ah well, little’un,” said Rex, with his most sardonic grin. “This is the life, isn’t it? This is what we signed up for. Hurry up and wait. Long stretches of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.” Leaning forward again, he patted her on the knee. “So I say we play darts. What d’you reckon?”
And there was her heart, breaking all over again for love of him. Such a decent man, he was. She bounced to her feet, determined not to disappoint him.
“I reckon I can take you, Captain Rex.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” Rex retorted, a twinkle in his eyes. And then it faded and he was the serious clone captain again. “But little’un—when the time comes? When you and the general need us?” He jerked his thumb at Coric, equally somber by his side. “Just say the word and we’ll be there.”
She had to wait a moment, swallowing hard. “I know you will. And so does he.” She leapt up. “Now come along and get thrashed at darts.”
Early the next morning Jedi Master Taria Damsin tracked Ahsoka down in the Temple arboretum, where the grass was cool and moist and the tumbling waterfall filled the warm air with spray and bright sound.
Discreetly inspecting the Jedi Master, Ahsoka thought she seemed perfectly recovered from their wild mission on Corellia. Either Taria was an excellent actress, or her Boratavi syndrome was back under control.
My guess is it’s a bit of both
.
“Ahsoka,” said Taria, as cheerful as ever. “I’ve been thinking.”
Unfolding from her final meditation pose—
a flower stem bends and does not break in the wind
—Ahsoka treated the older woman to a grin.
“Thinking? That’s dangerous. Should I be afraid?”
“Cheeky brat,” said Taria. “Now listen. I know you hate that you’re stuck here, waiting for word from Masters Kenobi and Skywalker. There’s nothing worse than being left behind when your Master’s off on a mission that doesn’t require a Padawan’s presence. And the Force knows that after Corellia my appetite’s been whetted for something a little less sedate than research in the library. So what do you say we get a nice little competition going? Something to challenge the senior Padawans that’ll challenge us at the same time.”
“That sounds intriguing,” Ahsoka admitted. “What kind of competition?”
Taria’s tawny eyes were alight with mischief. “A race through the new training dojo. Two teams—we lead one each. First team to light the beacon at the top of the mini city’s central tower wins.”
“Wins what?”
“Bragging rights, of course,” said Taria, grinning. “What else?”
The new training dojo, completed a few days before the mission to Kothlis, took up all of the Temple’s massive sublevel nineteen. Tricked out with artificial atmospherics and randomly generated zero-g
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