Would Never Forgive What You Do

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

'Masters of War'- Bob Dylan

She did not expect to go inside with Anakin.

The previous times they'd gone to see the Chancellor, she had been turned away at the door by a disinterested Palpatine. The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic had no time for Padawans.

He did not greet them at the door this time, and as Anakin stepped inside, he looked back at her, tilted his head, and made a small gesture of welcome. She brightened. She was to be included, with the leader of the Republic.

The Chancellor stepped from behind his desk, a look of mild disapproval swiftly hidden.

Echo could not see.

Rather, all he could see was the frantic flipping static within his helmet. The HUD was having a serious error. He shut his eyes tightly to block it out, moved to sit up and remove the offending piece of armor.

Movement was a bad idea. Pain lanced through both his leg and head, and he yelped loudly, eyes shooting open to take in the wild spinning going on across his vision. It made him dizzy. He reeled, flat on his back again, this time aware he was oozing blood from the leg, as well as increasingly nauseous from a headache and a hyperactive helmet. He groaned. Everything hurt.

He was yanked upward, and someone tugged the helmet off his head for him. Sudden brightness from the cloudless sky pierced his eyes. His head throbbed. He twisted to the side and puked.

A minute later he managed to pry his eyes open again, without the light making him too completely photosensitive. He squinted at the legs in front of him, then upward.

Shit. Blue stripes on white. He'd just thrown up on the Captain.

"Sorry, sir," he said, but it came out mostly as an undistinguishable groan. Everything tilted again and he flailed outward to keep himself sitting upright.

"I've called a medic," Rex said, punching the HUD's reset button. "Looks like you hit your head when you went down. That's quite a lump." He glanced up, turned, and waved as a pair of soldiers, a repulsor gurney hovering between them, made their way over.

Echo felt too sick for much relief when the Captain didn't mention the former contents of his stomach. A lump. That would explain the headache. Probably went down when his leg got hit.

"Ready?" Rex asked, kneeling down and propping himself against Echo for support. Other hands arrived to help, and he found himself being lifted and then deposited onto the gurney. Blue sky skidded across his vision. Grey smoke moved thinly between the towering scrapers above. He lolled his head to the side, looked out sideways across the remains of the battlefield.

It went badly. His head was clear enough through the foggy pain to remember that much. Civilians had been trying to escape the machine army coming up behind them. They'd run straight into the new combat zone, LAAT gunships dropping men down and then swooping back away for another load. There had been nowhere else for them to turn. He remembered his squad trying to usher a group behind the lines before things went dark.

Bodies in civilian clothing lay scattered amid the white clone armor and broken bits of droid. Red blood ran into the mud, catching in puddles with machine oil. The scarlet pools shimmered gold on the surface from the grease. He heard the sound of whatever passed for carrion eaters on this planet calling to each other, punctuated by the occasional shout of a clone trooper chasing them off. His stomach began to churn again.

He turned his head back to the sky. It was cerulean, serene. He ignored the winged carrion eaters.

"Captain?" he asked as his stretcher turned to take him to whatever location had been turned into a field hospital. "Did we win? Did we get them?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we got them." Rex said, voice quiet. "We got them good."

Echo kept his eyes on the sky, telling himself to be glad, and tried to ignore the feeling that it didn't matter.

The Chancellor stepped from behind his desk, a look of mild disapproval swiftly hidden.

"Welcome my dear boy," he said to Anakin. "Padawan Tano." He inclined his head politely, if not warmly, to Ahsoka. "Your Master speaks well of you."

"Thank you, Chancellor." Ahsoka scolded herself lightly, reminding herself to not smile too much, not to show how pleased she was at her inclusion in their little group. She was a Jedi, she must be calm. She folded her hands at the small of her back, keeping herself straight, hoping she appeared sufficiently thoughtful and serious. She sent a glance up at Anakin. He shot a quick, reassuring smile at her, then turned to the Chancellor.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me your thoughts on the progression of the war. I've become concerned at the lack of progress we have been making recently." A thin white hand gestured; long, slender fingers waving slightly in the air. They folded, clasped.

Ahsoka listened. She listened, and she watched, and she interjected small additions when there was a pause in the flow of the conversation. It was casual almost, far less rigid a debriefing than she was accustomed to when standing before Jedi Masters. The Chancellor asked pointed questions, always with a rather grandfatherly mien, thoughtful if somewhat inattentive to her presence. His eyes were very sharp. Ahsoka dismissed the lack of attention. She reminded herself of who she was talking to, and bit her tongue. The times she did speak up, Anakin continued to look pleased, and the Chancellor seemed to be content in tolerating her presence.

The sky darkened outside. Lights near the window gleamed upward as a warm hued sunset began to streak the sky. The city beyond the Senate building began to glow in the oncoming dark, as though stealing the setting sun's brightness.

The Chancellor was saying, "If one of these systems falls to the Separatists, the others will follow. We will need to invade the planet. Others, if necessary." The white hands flickered, spiderlike, before returning to their more serene position, waiting, clasped.

"Another invasion?" Ahsoka blurted, suddenly alarmed. The two men turned to look at her. Anakin looked surprised for a moment, then slipped into an expectant expression. He recognized the look of his Padawan, unhappy about something and preparing to argue. He resisted a smile; this argument was not with him.

The Chancellor said, mildly, "You would prefer to let systems join the Separatist cause?"

"Well no, of course not," Ahsoka said, backtracking quickly. Of course it would be bad if more worlds left the Republic. She'd seen too much of what the Separatists could do, what devastation they left on the planets they battled on. Separatists and their ideals were dangerous. The Chancellor was shifting, turning to look at Anakin again. She added, swiftly, "But an invasion? Some of our highest casualties were on Geonosis." She remembered the massive battle, of running into heavy fire, of men falling around her, of the appalling death count at the end, of being nearly buried in a mountain of rubble to end it all. She could feel the mourning through the ship, echoing through the Force heavily, feel the knowledge of absent comrades. She suppressed a shiver at the memory. "Our forces are strung out across the galaxy. We'd need to increase troop strength in the region for that level of fighting. I'm all for ending the war, but with troops as widespread as they are, we won't have enough manpower to root the Seps out. It'll be a bloodbath!"

A small flick, and the long white fingers of the Chancellor moved. A tiny frown of disapproval formed. "It must be done, my child. The Republic must be maintained. It may be difficult, but it is how we will keep our galaxy safe. We must use what weapons are at hand, and whatever means are necessary to protect our way of life. It would be barbaric to simply pound down the cities, don't you agree?" He finished with a gentle smile, as though a patient teacher concluding a lesson with an impertinent youngling.

Ahsoka tried to scold herself into calm again. The Chancellor had led them through difficult times. He was responsible for keeping the Republic together, keeping them all safe. His plan sounded so reasonable. But weapons at hand? She grew stubborn. Her jaw set, and her posture stiffened.

She heard Anakin chuckle lightly.

"The men on the field…the clones. They're people, not weapons." They're not disposable, she wanted to say, warming to her argument, but aware that she was terribly outclassed by the man who she was challenging. Still, it did not feel wrong. How could it feel wrong to care about people? They were people, not tools. Not weapons. They felt loss. She felt their loss. And it was not only the clones, who he so carelessly deemed weapons. There were even more civilians at stake. Even those not directly caught up in the fighting suffered through the disruptions of trade blockades, ruined fields, cities and governments. "Do all of their deaths really make it worth it?" Couldn't there be some other way? Some better way?

She did not like the Chancellor's next words, nor his amused tone, "And what would you suggest, my dear? Allow the Republic to fall apart? You must learn to do what is necessary, my dear child." He was smiling, his eyes still sharp and his hands curling around each other languidly.

Ahsoka suddenly resented the man. She had fought in this war for nearly three years. She'd fought and bled next to the clones, same as anyone else on the lines. Learn to do what was necessary? She'd killed and destroyed and watched others kill and destroy. She was not his dear anything, and he was dismissing her concerns for living beings as though they were a trifle, a gadfly easily swatted aside. Was it worth it? Were all the lives really worth winning this fruitless war? He sat here in the safe heart of the Republic, here in his rich office, hearing reports but not watching the men die, not fearing for their safety, not dreading the losses of friends in arms. He is wrong, she thought. He is wrong and he does not care. He is wrong because he does not care. He uses the clones because they are expedient to his purpose, and he is the one who leads us. Who is to say he thinks of anyone differently? To such a man, anyone is a means to an end.

There was a slight shift around them then. Ahsoka was only vaguely aware of it, distracted as she was by her growing distaste. The Chancellor's amusement was shuttered, and a certain coolness settled around them as she shifted into active dislike of the leader of the Republic. She fought to keep outwardly calm.

To herself she thought, It is a good thing this man is not a Jedi.

(How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do)

There were other days Palpatine met with Anakin.

"Your Padawan is a very clever young lady," he said, paternally. "She seems very capable for one so young."

Anakin smiled. "Well, she is my Padawan," he replied, puffing up a bit with pride. "Ahsoka's pretty advanced."

"Will she be taking the Jedi Trials soon?"

Anakin looked thoughtful. "Maybe in a year or so. She's had more experience than most her age. Why?"

Palpatine steepled his fingers and rested his chin on his fingertips lightly. "We are so short-handed. Perhaps, if you think it wise of course, she should be given some further responsibilities?"

"Further responsibilities? You mean missions? On her own?"

"Only if you think she is up to the task," he waved a hand slightly and sighed. "As she said herself, we are stretched so very thin, and if, as you say, she is advanced. She could be of very great service. You've done a wonderful job with her."

"Thanks," Anakin said, considering. "I'll think about it."

Palpatine looked pleased.

The accompanying song for this chapter, Bob Dylan's 'Masters of War', seemed to be screaming for a chapter about Palpatine. Hopefully he comes across okay, and appropriately in character. I also didn't want Ahsoka to just sense something off with Palpatine – clearly if the Jedi Masters can't, she shouldn't be able to. But I did want her to understand what he's doing is wrong. So hopefully that also came through clearly. The ends do not justify the means. (Especially if you're an evil Sith lord bent on galaxy-wide conquest, ha!)

Also, this fic is not completely linear. ^_^ The conversation with Palpatine took place a couple months before the rest of the chapter and Order 66. We'll be back to post-Order 66 with the next chapter.

~Queen