Anakin Skywalker feels it, too. The Separatist Alliance, with ruthlessness and treachery, is beating the Republic to every strategic target. Read more...
- Publisher: Penguin Random House Audio Publishing Gr
- Date: Feb 2010
From the book
As far as Ahsoka Tano was concerned, the only thing worse than being up to her armpits in battle droids was waiting to find out just how long it would be before she was up to her armpits in battle droids. She hated waiting. But it seemed that war was all about waiting-at least, when it wasn't about staring death in the face.
But I'm not scared. I'm not scared. I'm not scared. I'm not...
With Resolute out of rotation for a refit, she stood on the bridge of Indomitable, one of the next generation of cruisers to come out of the Allanteen VI shipyards. Cruisers that were faster and more responsive than ever before, thanks to her Master's-what had the chief shipwright called it? Oh yes. Tinkering. Thanks to Anakin's tinkering, the new vessels were a definite cut above the first Republic Cruisers that had rolled out of production for service in this war against Dooku and his Separatist Alliance.
The differences had been noted, and were talked about whenever and wherever military types crossed paths-in battle, in briefings, sharing some chitchat and a drink in this mess or that one, or even the occasional civilian bar. The Jedi who fought on the front lines were talking about them, too. Everyone who relied on the massive Republic warships knew that their odds of survival had increased because Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker liked to muck about with machines-when he wasn't busy being the scourge of the Separatists Anakin.
That's how she thought of him now, after arduous months of fighting by his side, learning from him, saving him, and being saved by him. But she never called him that to his face. She couldn't. The idea of saying Anakin felt more disrespectful than a cheeky nickname. Skyguy was familiar but it wasn't...intimate.
First names were intimate. They implied equality. But she and her Master weren't equals. She suspected they never would be. She was pretty sure that no matter how hard she trained, how hard she tried, even after she'd passed the trials and been made a Jedi Knight, she would never come close to matching him as a Jedi.
How can I? He's the Chosen One. He can do things that aren't meant to be possible.
She snuck a sideways look at him, standing on the far side of Indomitable's bridge in hushed conversation with Master Kenobi and Admiral Yularen. Letting down her habitual guard the tiniest bit, she prepared to stretch out her senses. To feel what he was feeling behind his carefully constructed mask. It wasn't prying. She didn't pry. As a Padawan it was her job-no, her duty-to make sure her Master was well. To be constantly attuned to his mood so she could anticipate his needs and more perfectly serve him. Since joining Anakin on Christophsis she'd lost count of the times that keeping a close eye on him had made the difference between success and failure. Life and death. Young she might be, and still in training, but she could do that. She was good at that.
Besides, once assigned to this man she'd made her own private and personal vow quite apart from the public oaths she'd sworn in the Jedi Temple.
I will not be the Padawan who gets the Chosen One killed.
Around her, the bridge crew conducted its military business with brisk efficiency. No chatter, since the admiral was present. When Yularen was elsewhere his officers sometimes indulged in a little gossip, a few jokes, a smattering of idle wartime speculation. Nothing detrimental to discipline, nothing untoward, just harmless camaraderie to help while away the tedium of days, like this one, when battle was yet to be joined and the void beyond the transparisteel viewports remained empty of enemy ships and...