In Which Ahsoka Leaves Her Master's Apartment
The walk from the Temple to the Order-owned apartment Ahsoka shared with her master had never seemed so long. There had always been something interesting to do or discuss, whether it was an upcoming campaign or a new Force technique. This time, however, there was nothing. Ahsoka had no obligations to fulfill, no things to learn. She just had to get her things and go … somewhere. Without a goal in mind, the brief trip became one long moment of anxiety about the future. While she was resolved to leave the order, she had no idea what to do with her life outside it.
Just put one foot ahead of the other, Ahsoka told herself. Keep going.
When she arrived, she took a long sanisteam, washing away the sweat and anxiety of jail, then dressed in more traditional Jedi robes instead of her usual style. Now, more than ever, Ahsoka felt the need to be sure that she was a Jedi, a servant of the light.
Packing took less time than she expected. Jedi don't have much in the way of knick-knacks; all her clothes fit into a single duffel. Ahsoka spent more time filling her personal datapad with texts on the Jedi arts, knowing that this would probably be the last time she had access to the Temple's database. The ways of the Force took up a surprisingly small amount of space on her datapad; text and holograms weren't that big. She might be leaving the Jedi Order, but she wasn't going to stop being a Jedi. Of that, she was certain.
Assembling her little library, Ahsoka was surprised by her composure. Upon reflection, it did make sense, at least on the surface. She had resigned herself to a far worse fate in Republic jail awaiting trial. At least, she thought life in prison was a worse fate. Free, she had a purpose, at least in theory: the common good, just like if she had stayed in the Order. She would just have to do it without the help of her master, or her troops, or her any of her fellow Jedi, or Republic money, or equipment, or anything like that. There would be no more resources to call upon or friends to watch her back. Just Ahsoka Tano and her lightsabers. Which she had yet to rebuild.
Ahsoka swore, a long, luxuriating string of Huttese and Mandalorian curses that Rex had rather explicitly forbade Torrent Company from using around her. Then the tears came.
Fifteen sad, uncomfortable minutes of crisis of purpose later, she looked up from her seat and began to breathe more steadily. The galaxy had not stopped, so neither would she. Ahsoka sat a little straighter, and began to meditate, falling back on the Code for a mantra.
"There is no emotion, there is peace." Easier said than done, but it was something to shoot for.
"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge." She would still be able to carry on with her studies, temple or no.
"There is no passion, there is serenity." Tears never helped anyone. She just had to keep going, casting aside both regret and resentment.
"There is no chaos, there is harmony." Moving away from the front lines of a war would probably help with that one.
There is no death, there is the Force." These troubles would pass. This was going to be a new chapter in her life, not the end.
There was still work to do.
She'd need a new holomail account when her Jedi one was canceled. She set up a little account with a well-known webservice, and sent a few brief messages with her new address to those she wanted to stay in touch with.
A formal explanation of her decision and offer of services went to what few political contacts she had managed to make in her time, ranging from Naboo to Onderon. A short, friendly explanation of her decision went to a handful of old friends from the Order, mostly fellow apprentices. A longer apology went to the whole 501st, who she would no longer be able to protect. Captain Rex and Commander Appo got personalized messages with polite reminders and advice about those duties they would have to take over – someone would have to remind their General to take his hand in for maintenance. Anakin got the longest letter, an extended apology praising his work as her master and reassuring him that his secret was safe with her.
Ahsoka only made one request: that none of the recipients of her letters give her new address to anyone on the High Council other than Masters Kenobi or Plo Koon. While she doubted that this would hold up under more than a firm look from Master Windu, maybe they would take the hint.
Ahsoka stood, ready to leave her room for the last time, but something stopped her. Listening to the Force, she found herself drawn to her bedside table. She opened the little drawer, revealing a sleek, black lightsaber hilt.
Ahsoka remembered that saber. It had belonged to a close friend of hers, a demure young Twi'lek by the name of Sianya Ven who had wanted to be a Jedi Consular. Sianya was a peaceful sort, a kind, supportive young student, excelling in diplomacy and the arts but hopeless in combat, unlike Ahsoka, whose ability to get herself into fights was only surpassed by her ability to handle herself in them. The two of them had helped each other in their studies since early childhood.
When the time had come for their Initiate class to construct lightsabers of their own, Sianya had chosen to make a synth-crystal instead of going to Ilium. When Ahsoka had asked her why, Sianya had reminded her of the process used to grow synth-crystals.
"When you make a synth-crystal, you imbue it with the Force. The thoughts, feelings, convictions that were in your mind when you made it become a part of the crystal. Whenever I draw my blade, I should remember who I am, and who I want to be. It'll be an anchor, one more reminder to use as little force as possible."
Ahsoka nodded, then asked, "Okay, but why blue? Why not a traditional Consular green?"
"Green? With my complexion?" Sianya gestured at a brilliant scarlet lek, "They'd call me the Life Day Jedi."
They had laughed at that, and when Ahsoka returned home with a green crystal.
They saw each other less and less after they were assigned Masters. Ahsoka always had some new campaign to command, and Sianya always had some pressing negotiations to oversee. Though they wrote each other often and made time for holoconfrences when they both had a chance, they struggled to keep track of each other's lives.
One day, the five-oh-first was sent to rescue a group of Republic diplomats whose mission had turned sour with the arrival of a Separatist fleet. It had seemed a routine job: Go in, get the diplomats, and get out of whatever uninhabited backwater had been chosen for the negotiations – just another day in the GAR. Ahsoka had been almost happy to find out that they were rescuing Sianya and her master.
She didn't have any reason not to be. Over the past few years, she'd done nearly a dozen such missions and not failed once; Separatist tactical droids were so predictable when it came to capturing and holding delegations like this.
The mission was planned no different from the last few (wildly successful) extractions they'd done in the past. Ahsoka was to sneak in with a squad of ARC troopers from Torrent to reinforce the defenses of the diplomats while Anakin descended on the Separatist task force in his usual angry-rancor fashion with the rest of the Legion.
Ahsoka knew something was wrong the moment she and her squad hit dirt. There were commando droids all over the grounds of the old castle where the negotiations were being held, stationed in places no tactical droid would think of putting them. The Separatists shouldn't even have had time to establish a perimeter, yet they were already beginning to fortify.
Ahsoka stretched out through the Force, trying to get a feel for the situation of the diplomats inside. She sensed the simmering calm of Jedi in combat alongside fear and desperation from the other delegates. There was another presence, one deaf to the Force but full of rage and malice: Grievous.
Then everything went wrong. Ahsoka rushed inside as fast as she could, leaving her troops in the dust as she made mincemeat of the Separatist defenses. Still, as the last commando droid fell, she felt a tremor in the Force and an ache in her heart. Sianya Ven was dead.
In that moment, Ahsoka knew rage. It was the first time she had touched the Dark Side, yet it flowed so easily. She used it in the place of the calm that wouldn't come, and she made it to the cyborg general. Her strength didn't last long enough. Tired and unbalanced, she was no match for Dooku's attack dog, who had already bested Sianya's master. Their duel was brief. In moments, Grievous had her cornered, one of his stolen lightsabers at her throat, cackling maniacally.
Skywalker had saved her, like he always did. His sword came down on Grievous's wrist like lightening from heaven, and their enemy fled the Guardian and his Legion. Ahsoka slumped to the ground, catching her breath, and she recognized the blade that had nearly killed her. It was Sianya's.
Ahsoka picked it up and sensed the traces of her friend in the crystal. Sianya was there, strong and idealistic. The good that she had done in the past was still in the world, just as her omnipresent calm was imprinted in the crystal in Ahsoka's hand. Ahsoka hefted the hilt, ignited the blade alongside her own, and found peace.
The next day, she had asked Anakin to teach her Jar'Kai. They had gone crystal-hunting on Ilium the very next week, bringing back a few crystals, one of which became the shoto she had lost a few days ago.
Now, Ahsoka took her old friend's saber with her as she left. She grabbed her toolkit and the spare parts she'd need for a second saber along with a matching crystal from the workshop she shared with her master. Well, the workshop she had shared with her former master. This was going to take some getting used to.