After much deliberation, Ahsoka headed to the training hall. She was practicing another strike when her teacher's voice rang out:
"Try to maintain the original angle—use your wrist."
Ahsoka silently continued her movements, trying to do as the Jedi said. Finally, she was able to do the combination she wanted.
"Thank you, Master."
"Ahsoka, I would like to apologize to you." The Togruta immediately sensed the wave of guilt and remorse emanating from her Master.
"Um… Master, you have nothing to apologize for."
"Ahsoka, I was wrong, and I behaved in an unworthy manner…"
"Master," the Togruta approached and smiled gently. "I can sense that this is difficult for you. If I feel bad myself, then how must you feel…"
"So, I was right?"
"Not exactly, Master."
"Are you arguing again?"
"No, I'm not arguing...I'm just expressing my opinion, that's all!" Ahsoka lifted her chin defiantly.
Vikt spread his arms with a half-smile.
"How about a little sparring? We still have two hours left."
"That would be nice." She nodded and summoned her training blade with the Force.
***
"Exit from hyperspace complete!"
"No enemies detected—combat alert canceled!"
"All ships have arrived at the destination!"
"Request sent to rescue services!"
The operators' reports came in one after another.
Kernatuan Rinaun exhaled in relief—all damaged ships had successfully reached Lantilles. Rescue vessels immediately rushed to assist; the wounded needed to be taken to the medical center as quickly as possible, and the ships themselves had to be dispatched to the shipyards for repair.
He had to report to headquarters immediately. Command needed to be informed of the failed operation.
The planet's orbit was bustling. Several dozen brand-new Acclamators hung motionless near the orbital tracking station, surrounded by smaller craft.
"Here are the promised reinforcements," Rinaun muttered. "If only they'd arrived a little earlier…"
***
Two figures in brown Jedi robes stood near the tactical table. Obi-Wan Kenobi was studying a map of the sector, while his Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, silently turned his head, observing the steady work of the staff officers. Adi Gallia, who had arrived with them, was engaged in conversation with Moff Terbon and several local officers.
The Jedi had come with impressive reinforcements—thirty-two Acclamator-class military assault ships and seventy other vessels—to stabilize the critical situation that had developed in this sector. But their missions differed. Adi Gallia and her group were heading to Kashyyyk, where a fierce battle raged in orbit between the Republic and the Trandoshan fleet, armed mainly with CIS ships and supported by vessels from the Trade Federation and the Banking Clan.
Skywalker and his teacher, Obi-Wan Kenobi, were to make a deep raid into enemy territory to reach and rescue the garrison at the tracking station on Rhen Var. In the early days of the war, under the strictest secrecy, the Republic had deployed a garrison there, along with specialized equipment for monitoring Separatist worlds. The site was designated Base Bravo.
Anakin regarded the unfolding events with true composure. He had been traveling across the galaxy with his Master for quite some time, carrying out various assignments from the Council—but this was his first true combat mission. Over the years, he had met many intelligent beings, but made few genuine friends.
Obi-Wan often called him a cocky and difficult young man, yet Kenobi was one of the few people Anakin truly respected. Another person he considered a friend was Chancellor Sheev Palpatine—a fellow native of Naboo, like Padme. Whenever Anakin's relationship with his Master reached an impasse, Palpatine was the only one he could turn to for advice. The Chancellor often visited the Jedi Temple, observing Anakin's training and praising his diligence and skill.
Indeed, Anakin's innate abilities were remarkable—superior to those of many of his peers, not to mention newly accepted Yunlings. In addition, because of an ancient prophecy, he was considered the Chosen One, which added quite a bit of smugness to the young man.
Although Anakin respected his Master, he was convinced that he was much stronger than Obi-Wan—and that his Master was holding him back from realizing his full potential. Thus, he often acted in defiance of everything: his teacher's instructions, the Council's notes, the Order's dogmas, and much more.
Padme. The very thought of her kindled a carefully guarded spark of love and tenderness within him. Long ago, when he was still a slave in Watto's shop, a strange company had entered—
a tall, stately Jedi, a Gungan, and a blue astromech droid. And with them… a girl of extraordinary beauty. Anakin had never seen anyone like her, and even then, he had fallen in love. He'd even told her that one day she would be his wife—she had only laughed.
Nine long years later, fate brought them together again, and they confessed their love to one another. After the massacre in the Petranaki Arena, Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala secretly married. She belonged to him now—completely and utterly. No one would take his happiness away from him again.
He had already lost his mother—something he still blamed the Council for, since they had never deigned to free her from slavery—and his constant travels across the galaxy, coupled with relentless training, left him not a single free moment.
It was then that he had first tasted the Dark Side—when he found his mother dying in one of the Tusken tents. Yet Skywalker saw no danger in what had happened; on the contrary, it only strengthened his conviction of the inadequacy of his mentors' numerous speeches threatening all manner of trouble if he used the Dark Side of the Force. He saw nothing wrong with using that power—but kept it hidden from everyone. Even Padme did not know the whole truth.
Suddenly, a murmur rippled through the officers, breaking his thoughts. The main holo-screen displayed the space around Lantilles. A squadron of Republic ships had emerged from hyperspace. Most appeared intact, but four Acclamators and a couple of corvettes lagging behind were in dire shape—gaping hull breaches, torn metal edges, smoke and oxygen venting into space, fires flickering here and there.
"They've been badly hit, Master," Skywalker whistled softly.
"Yes. A sad sight," Obi-Wan said with a frown, placing a thoughtful hand under his chin. "It looks like they've taken quite a beating."
He turned to one of the officers.
"Who's in command of those formations?"
"Sir, there are two squadrons. The first—the Southwest Squadron—is under Commander Rinaun, and includes the ship of Jedi General Mikore Vikt. Judging by appearances, the remaining vessels belong to Commander Ditmar's Southeast Squadron. Based on that, it's highly likely that the Battle of Togoria has been lost."
"It would be good to know the details," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully.
"The commanders will arrive soon to report, sir."
(End of Chapter)
Bonus chapter for 300 Power Stones. Thank you for your support!