DESTINY - CHAPTER 02

Ahsoka stared into the flames of the fire. The light cast flickering shadows across the walls of her primitive, one room, prefabricated hut. She watched the tendrils of smoke rise a few inches above the wood, then get pulled back into the smokeless filtration system of the fire pit. Just like the whispers of smoke, her thoughts were pulled back to the clone … and her vehement display of anger.

She'd lost control. Let her grief and sorrow bank into a fire of rage. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. She was better than that.

Letting out a sigh she moved her cushion closer to the warmth of the fire, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. A chill was in the air, signaling the end of the warm season and the coming of cooler days.

Ahsoka had grown to love the seasons of Axalon, this small moon she'd called home for the last two cycles. Of all the places she had stayed since she'd left Courscant, she liked Axalon the best because of its different seasons. They were a constant reminder of the power and the beauty of nature — of her connection to the Force.

On Courscant she'd lived in the Jedi temple since she'd been a small child. Growing up on the city-planet had been exciting. But it was only after she'd left that she realized the monotonous, climate-controlled weather of the planet as one of the things that had been slowly killing her soul. The weather … along with the Jedi Order.

Ashoka glanced up as Dian'thy stepped next to her, handing her a steaming cup.

"Thank you," she said.

"Of course."

Dian'thy sat down cross-legged on the cushion next to Ahsoka and moved his head-tails behind his shoulders. She leaned into him, resting her montral against his upper arm.

She felt emotion welling up and fought to keep it in. But one shuddering sob retched itself from her chest.

Ahsoka felt an arm wrap protectively around her shoulders. Sucking in a breath she forced herself to calm.

They sat for a time, watching the flames and listening to the crackling of the fire.

Eventually Ahsoka spoke.

"I'm ashamed," she whispered.

"Why?" Dian'thy asked.

"I let my anger rule my actions. I lost control."

"Do not judge yourself too harshly, Soka. We all become angry at times."

"But it's different for me."

Dian'thy took a slow sip of his tea. "How so?" he asked.

"Anger is the path to the dark side," she said.

"But you are not a Jedi any longer."

"No, I'm not. But my connection to the Force is strong."

Ashoka lifted her head from Dian'thy's shoulder and looked at her friend. "The dark side will always covet me. Though the Order betrayed my people, its teachings about the dark side aren't wrong."

Dian'thy turned toward her. "How old were you when you left the Order?"

"Fifteen."

"And that was how long ago?"

"Almost eleven standard years."

Ahsoka quirked a white brow, wondering where he was going with this.

Dian'thy looked down and stroked his chin in thought. "So, all of your adult life you have lived as a Force user outside of the Jedi Order." His eyes rose to hers. "And you are still a wielder of the light."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Soka, your destiny is not with the dark side."

Ahsoka gave him a half smile and nodded, then returned her gaze to the fire. She wasn't sure if she had a destiny, or if destiny was even a real thing. So, she kept her opinion to herself in order to not offend her friend.

Ahsoka wasn't sure Dian'thy's faith in her was justified. Lately, the grief she'd so long ago locked away had begun to leak out despite her efforts to keep it caged. She'd been able to hide her lapses from the clan, but that was becoming more difficult.

Today had been the worst. Coming face-to-face with a living, breathing clone — a symbol of the atrocities committed against her people — had pushed her over the edge. As her rage had swelled, she'd had nothing to ground her, nothing to keep her connected to those she cared about and remind her of what was important. To remind her of who she was in the universe.

Over the years Ahsoka had observed how those around her relied on their relationships with others to work through personal challenges. It seemed that those with the most intimate and committed of relationships were the most balanced and happy. Which was directly opposite to what the Jedi had ingrained in her.

In her life as a Jedi, attachments had been discouraged, if not outright forbidden. But she'd had the Order, its teachings and her Master, Plo Koon, to guide her through her turmoils and challenges.

When Ahsoka left the Order she hadn't known how to be in normal relationships with others. The Jedi had effectively stunted that part of her. And if she was honest with herself, she had never overcome that failing. It was still hard for her to make friends. To have any type of meaningful relationship required one to open up, to become vulnerable. That terrified Ahsoka.

There were beings in her life that she loved fiercely. She still cared about Master Plo, despite his naïveté and the short-sightedness he shared with all Jedi. But she had not seen him since she'd left the Order and most likely never would again.

Dian'thy and T'annon were two of the beings she cared about most in the universe. But she could never completely lean on them to bare the darkness and pain in her soul. T'annon was too young and Ahsoka would never burden Dian'thy with such a heavy load.

Today she'd had nothing in her life to ground her. Nothing to turn to as she'd started to lose control. She'd felt empty and lost … and scared.

For the first time in her life Ahsoka truly feared that if the dark side tried to claim her, she might not be strong enough to resist its power.

"It is time for me to say good evening, Soka," Dian'thy said, rising to his feet.

Ahsoka stood and hugged her friend, grateful that he'd sat with her until she'd calmed.

Dusk had arrived with night soon to follow. She was looking forward to some rest and, if it was the will of the Force, some sleep.

"Good night, my friend," she said, and pulled aside the tarp covering the entrance to her hut. Looking up she saw Bandrix walking toward them.

Bandrix stopped and nodded to Dian'thy. "Dian'thy," he said.

Dian'thy nodded back. "Bandrix."

Bandrix turned to Ahsoka. "I am sorry if I am intruding, but may I speak with you?"

"I was just leaving," Dian'thy said. "But I do have a question, Bandrix."

Bandrix looked surprised but gestured for Dian'thy to continue.

"I was wondering how you found an injured clone trooper." Dian'thy said.

Bandrix hesitated, casting a glance to Ahsoka. But she said nothing.

"I explained earlier to the commander," Bandrix said, poorly hiding his irritation with the old Twi'lek, "we were salvaging the battle ground on one of the Quarlian moons after GAR forces left. Abandoned battle grounds are where we find most of our metal, technology, weapons and medical supplies."

Dian'thy nodded and Bandrix continued.

"The clone was pinned under a door from a destroyed troop carrier. All the other clones there had died in some type of explosion. I'm not sure how this one survived."

"Ah," Dian'thy replied. "So, you decided to save his life."

Ahsoka watched Bandrix's expression sour. "Yes, Dian'thy," he said impatiently. "That's exactly what we decided to do."

"I see. Thank you for the explanation," Dian'thy said. "I wish you both a good night."

"You as well," Ahsoka replied.

As Dian'thy walked away Ahsoka held the door flap open and gestured for Bandrix to step inside.

She didn't offer for him to sit. Ahsoka knew what he wanted to say and she'd just spent the last hour trying to rein in her emotions about the whole situation. She'd let him speak and then hopefully he'd leave.

"What is it, Bandrix?" she asked, her fatigue flattening her tone more than she'd intended.

Bandrix gave her a grieved look. "Commander, have I offended you?" he asked.

Ahsoka let out a sigh. "No, you haven't offended me, Bandrix. And you know I prefer that you use my name when we're having a private conversation."

"As you wish, Ahsoka," Bandrix said. "Shall we sit by the warmth of your fire and share a conversation between friends?"

"It's been a long day. Perhaps another time," she said. "Now, what can I help you with?"

Bandrix turned away and took a step toward the fire. "Why is the clone still alive?" he asked. His tone had morphed from polite to brooding.

Ahsoka glared at his back. "What kind of question is that?" she demanded.

He whipped around to face her. "I brought him to you. As a tribute. As proof of my … loyalty to you. So that you could exact justice on one who destroyed our race."

"I am not a murderer," Ahsoka ground out.

"The clone is."

"He couldn't have been at the Battle of Shili. He's too young."

Bandrix pounded one fist into the other. "They are all the same. He shares the guilt of his kind. They all deserve to die."

Ahsoka heaved a sigh, her momentary surge of anger giving way to exhaustion. She turned toward the fire and stared into the flames.

"I mourn the loss of our people … our world," she said. "Everyday, it hurts. And I'll admit that today, for a moment, I wanted to take my revenge."

Bandrix grasped Ahsoka's shoulders and turned her to face him. "Why didn't you, then? Why don't you, now? You said it yourself. He's nothing but an animal … a rabid beast that should be put down."

Ahsoka dropped her eyes and slowly shook her head.

"If you can't bring yourself to do it, I'll do it for you," Bandrix said. "Let me kill him as my gift to you."

Ahsoka glared up at Bandrix, horrified that he would think she could ever consider killing anything for her - even a clone - as a gift.

She jerked away and stepped back.

"I'm tired," Ahsoka said. "I'd like to be alone and rest."

She watched as Bandrix clenched his fists, but he said nothing. He nodded, turned and walked toward the door.

"Bandrix," Ahsoka called after him.

Bandrix stopped but didn't turn around.

"The clone is not to be harmed," she said. "I'll decide what to do with him. No one else. Do you understand?"

Bandrix nodded, pulled the tarp aside and left.

Ahsoka exhaled, long and slow. Turning toward the fire she stoked it with another log and dropped to a cushion. She needed sleep, but she knew it wouldn't come. So, she did the only thing she could think of to quiet her racing mind and calm her aching nerves. Crossing her legs and straightening her spine she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to meditation.

In the Temple, she had meditated every day. But since she'd left the Jedi, she hadn't kept up a daily practice. Ahsoka felt a little rusty, but after her breathing deepened and her body relaxed, the pervasive chatter in her mind faded and eventually grew silent.

Ahsoka floated in the blessed silence, no thoughts, no worries, no responsibilities. Just the peace of nothingness.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been in that state when she felt a small tendril of spirit cautiously reach out to the Force. The Force answered, slowly surrounding her with a soft glow.

Ahsoka willed the deepest intention of her heart to be known by the Force; to receive guidance about how to live in the light and not succumb to the dark.

She wasn't sure how long her trance had lasted, but when she opened her eyes the fire had burned down to coals. Her mental and physical fatigue had stolen the energy from her body and she was cold. She draped a blanket over her shoulders and put another log on the fire.

"Ahsoka," a small voice whispered from outside her hut. "Are you awake?"

Ahsoka's heart warmed and she smiled. "Come in T'annon," she said.

When T'annon pulled the trap aside to enter Ahsoka could see it was dark outside and one of Axalon's two sister moons had already risen. T'annon stepped up to the fire and even in its dim light Ahsoka could see that the young Pantoran was exhausted and shivering.

Ahsoka opened one side of her blanket and cloak. "Come and sit with me," she said.

T'annon slid onto the cushion and Ashoka wrapped her in the cloak and blanket, pulling her in tight. When she felt wetness on her tunic she pulled back to see tears streaming down T'annon's cheeks.

Ashoka's protectiveness toward the young healer raced through her blood. Something had upset T'annon. Had it been the clone? If he'd done anything to hurt her, he would regret it.

"T'annon, what's wrong?" Ahsoka asked softly.

T'annon sniffed. "I am sad."

"What are you sad about?"

"I did not want to do it," T'annon said in a small voice. "I remember what it felt like and I did not want to do it." She wiped her nose with her sleeve. "But Kip said it was your order, so I did it."

"Did what?"

"Put the collar on."

Ashoka's stomach clenched and guilt crushed her chest so it was hard to breathe. She had never intended for T'annon to put the restraining collar on the clone. She didn't want T'annon to be near one of those wretched devices ever again. She'd told Kip to put the collar on after T'annon had treated the clone. At least, that's what she thought she'd said.

"Oh, T'annon, I am so sorry. I didn't mean for you to put the collar on the clone. I would never ask you to do that. I wanted Kip to do that. Please believe me."

T'annon sniffed and nodded, then tucked her face back against Ahsoka's chest. "I believe you."

Ahsoka held T'annon close and gently rubbed her hand up and down T'annon's arm. She couldn't ever remember feeling this bad and wondered how she could ever atone.

Eventually T'annon's sniffling stopped and her shivering subsided. She pulled back and looked up into Ahsoka's eyes.

"Rex is a good person," T'annon said. "Why do you hate him?"

"Rex?" Ahsoka said, surprised.

"That is his name. Rex," T'annon said.

"And you know this … how?"

"He told me," T'annon said, matter-of-factly.

"I see," Ahsoka said, raising one white brow. "And how do you know he is a good … person?"

"He fought the Zyegarrians and freed many slaves," T'annon said. "And he was kind to me."

Ahsoka had been ready to gently explain to T'annon why she was wrong. But when she heard the girl's argument, no words came. And as much as she wanted to, she couldn't disagree with T'annon's reasoning.

Anyone who would risk their life to free complete strangers from the hell of slavery … well, they must have some kernel of decency.

And T'annon had said the clone had been kind to her — which tugged uncomfortably at Ahsoka's conscience.

T'annon was … different. Her odd eccentricities, forged by her unusual gift in the Force and her years as a slave, made others avoid her because they didn't understand her. But Ahsoka could see the shining light of the Force surrounding the girl and she'd come to care deeply for T'annon.

Ahsoka didn't want to consider T'annon's declaration that the clone could be kind, or selfless, or brave. More than anything she wanted him to be cruel and debauched and a coward. Because that's what she believed about clones.

But T'annon could see inside of others. It was part of her gift in the Force as a healer.

So, Ahsoka kept her opinion to herself.

"I'm glad he was kind to you," Ahsoka said. "After all, you are pretty special."

T'annon grinned up at Ahsoka. Then her face turned serious.

"Ahsoka, can I ask you for a favor?"

"Of course. Anything you want."

"May I borrow a blanket?"

Ahsoka gave T'annon a puzzled look but nodded. "Of course. But if you and Reesa don't have enough blankets in your hut-"

T'annon cut her off. "Reesa and I have plenty of blankets. It is not for me. I want to take it to Rex. It is cold tonight."

"I see," Ahsoka said. She considered T'annon for a moment, then said, "You look very tired, T'annon. Why don't you go and sleep. I'll take a blanket to the clone."

T'annon quirked her eyebrow at Ahsoka. "Do you promise?" she said.

Ahsoka chuckled. "Yes, I promise."

"Thank you." T'annon said, as she unwrapped herself from Ahsoka and they both stood. "Good night, Ahsoka."

"Good night, T'annon."

Ahsoka watched with a smile as T'annon left her hut.

Then she felt her smile turn into a frown as she considered T'annon's request.

A blanket for the clone.

Ahsoka had no desire to provide aid and comfort to the enemy. But she'd made a promise to T'annon, who seemed to care about the clone.

Ahsoka pulled the blanket off her shoulders and bundled it under her arm. As she stepped toward the door, Dian'thy's words came to her.

Even an animal is shown compassion and mercy.

Her shoulders slumped and she let out a sigh. She grabbed another blanket and made her way toward the cage … and the clone.