Sorry the chapters haven't been as long, or well-written, lately guys. I have to keep reminding myself that writing isn't a passive hobby, fun as it may be (-= Working on it now, and I'll try to do better with future updates!

Chapter 15

Mace sighed and leaned back in the pilot's chair of the small Jedi cruiser they'd brought with them on this mission. It had taken twenty minutes of arguing to get that obstinate Skywalker to go to bed instead of pacing the ten feet of floor space behind them.

Even now, he could hear him tossing restlessly in the back as he slept. This was ridiculous. Mace knew he was concerned about his Padawan, but the young Jedi was much too ill to pull an all-nighter. Again.

He parked the ship in an inconspicuous location and settled back for what he calculated to be around several hours before the graveyard ship showed up again to release its cargo.

At least it provided ample time for meditation, or perhaps just thinking through the many difficulties weighing on his mind at the moment.

He knew the Jedi Order had—issues.

Something about the balance of the Force between them was not right. They were supposed to be connected with a bond that was normally much stronger than it currently was, and Mace suspected the weakness was more than a direct result of additional wartime stress.

He was questioning the decency of putting clones and teenage Padawans into positions of mortal combat. He himself was trained for such situations; he had studied and gathered experience over many decades of dedication. But the younglings—

Children had died in this war. Jedi children. First separated from their families—that was normal, had been for as long as he'd been a part of the Order—but then placed in such danger. He wasn't sure the Jedi were strong enough as a collective group to continue to protect them. They had failed miserably at protecting them so far, and who knew how long the battles would continue to assail their safety and threaten their innocent young lives?

He wasn't sure why this bothered him. Perhaps he should listen to some more of the wisdom of Master Ki Adi Mundi. Mundi had counseled with him and Yoda after Obi-Wan's mission impersonating Rako Hardin. Although he and the Grand Master had agreed that the mission was a total failure and an abuse of Kenobi's closest friends, Mundi had encouraged them not to allow themselves to be too greatly affected by concern for the emotional state of said friends.

"This is war," he had reminded them. If the Jedi are so seriously damaged by Obi-Wan's faked death; which in the end was revealed as such to everyone he knew; it was a sure sign the Jedi have been slack in the teaching of emotional management.

But Mace knew that they had not been slack. In fact, they had been stricter than ever in the training knowing that younglings and Padawans were going to have to face dramatic battles and a variety of potentially emotional situations and come through as unscathed as possible.

Their methods on controlling emotion were not working.

Mace almost didn't dare admit to himself that it might be time for a change, but—humility was an essential trait for a Jedi, wasn't it? Perhaps it was time to admit they might be wrong.

He wasn't sure, however, that Master Yoda would agree.

Windu recalled that Yoda had personally written the majority of philosophical texts in the Jedi Code regarding emotional management, those texts which were being taught to dozens of younglings each day in their Temple studies.

Yoda would not likely be enthusiastic about rethinking the accuracy of such teaching.

And—about the clones.

Mace had killed Jango Fett personally.

He knew how untrustworthy the man had been, and he had never trusted his clones to any great extent, either.

He knew they were practically wired to the Chancellor. Nobody trusted Palpatine any longer; not that Mace had trusted him in the first place. He didn't know what it was about him, or whether he thought he was an enemy or simply incompetent in his position, but the power-hungry old Nubian was more than he seemed.

Perhaps the Force itself was clouding Mace's judgment in his analysis of the situation. He honestly couldn't figure out who Palpatine was.

But Anakin had said something about information on Palpatine—perhaps he could discuss that with him on the return trip?

If he wasn't too busy worrying over his former Padawan, that is. Which in their present situation seemed much more likely than a deep, thoughtful political discussion with Windu.

He had, however, seen the Chancellor's submission of an order to set up Skywalker as his personal representative for the Jedi Order, however. Perhaps that was what Anakin meant to talk about; his current companion probably knew about the order already. Mace didn't like the Chancellor issuing executive orders to the Council—it was not something they would feel inclined to just submit to, at the very least!

But—maybe Anakin would be of some use in the Chancellor's service—if he could somehow figure out who Palpatine really was, and what on earth he was doing making orders that seemed to only prolong the war.

Then again, Mace would honestly rather be in that position himself than stick a young, hotheaded, emotionally scarred (and not to mention half-dead) Jedi warrior in there to be fondled over as the Chancellor's pet. Not only was Mace concerned that Anakin might lose his cool in such a delicate position, he didn't want the young General to be taken advantage of.

Anakin was very vulnerable, especially now. No wonder the Chancellor paid such special attention to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mace suddenly spotted a familiar shape on the horizon of the outer atmosphere. Emerging from the smog clouds was the graveyard ship in all its glory.

He quickly jumped out of his seat and ran to the back to wake Anakin. Like any good soldier, the Jedi woke up immediately and set about helping Mace to gather medical supplies. They exchanged a brief glance in their haste. Both of them were preparing their minds for the worst.

Ahsoka might not be alive.

Anakin was the first to run out to the receiving dock. The two of them watched in silence as, one by one, coffins and boxes of cremated remains were released into the atmosphere.

Ahsoka would be last, and hopefully go unnoticed.

At last they saw her. The only coffin to contain a live person floated in the air, the self-destruct mechanism disabled. It seemed to the Jedi that the graveyard ship took an eternity to leave the vicinity, but at last it rotated and slowly retreated behind the clouds.

Anakin slammed at the controls, rocketing their ship straight toward the object in question and veering around, angling the ship toward the coffin so it would be within reach in the receiving bay.

Mace hurried toward the anti-gravity chamber and released the pressure, entering the receiving bay and shouting navigation instructions to Anakin. "Port eighty degrees and over!"

Anakin obeyed them instantly and ran back to join him as he carefully lowered the coffin to the ground, turned on the airlock, and released the antigrav. The two men grabbed it at both ends and used the sturdy support of the box as they moved her to the medbay, finally lifted her out and onto a cot, and hooked her up to life support.

Only then did Anakin reach around the side of her neck to feel her pulse. There was an eerie moment of waiting as he tried to find it, and Mace gripped the side of the cot a little harder than necessary.

Finally the Jedi let out a breath. "She's alive," he announced, as strength drained instantly from his limbs. Weak with relief, he sat with a hand on her arm as Mace performed the remaining medical duties.

When they were completed, he turned to Anakin. "We need to return to Coruscant," he reminded him. "You have less than a day before you need to leave for Machibo. And young Tano needs more adequate medical attention. I'll be in the cockpit."

He left, leaving Anakin alone with his little girl. Or so was how he thought of her. Sometimes, he thought with a wry grin, everyone needed a little treatment like they were a child again. Especially after all Ahsoka had been through.

So sweet, so fiery, so innocent at first—she was damaged as much as he was from a past so much shorter than his own. He'd do anything to protect her. She knew that, he hoped, from last time—that was why she'd called for him when she was in trouble.

"If only I'd been there sooner…"

But he couldn't dwell on that. He had to focus on keeping her alive, alive and as well as possible as they returned her to Coruscant, and to someplace where she'd be safe.

If anywhere was safe.