107

A Young Girl’s War Between the Stars

107

33 BBY/967 GSC. Naboo Conflict +48 days. Naboo.

The jungle bordering the swamp was hot around us even at this time of night, the air thick and soupy in a way that just made me angry to breathe. The sounds of animals filled the air, covering the sounds of our work. Beskar plated trench shovels cut through roots and vines as easily as soil, broken up only by the occasional clink of hitting rock or bone, or the pounding thump of being used as a hammer to drive stakes into the ground. Not far away, the steady thrumming of a droid digging added to the sounds.

Eventually growing tired, Allaya paused in her work and sat down against a tree. Pulling out a canteen, the redhead drank greedily as she took a break. Eventually, she quietly asked, “Master?”

“What?”

“…Want to take a break and have some water?” she asked, sounding hesitant.

I paused in my work at the feeling the girl was giving off. Sighing quietly, I pulled myself up out of the hole and moved over to sit beside her. She offered her canteen and I took it, taking a sip. “Thank you.”

“Mm,” she nodded, a small smile on her face now.

“I’m sorry I’ve been short. I’m not angry at you.”

Allaya nodded. “I know.” She hesitated just a moment before asking, “Why are we digging in the jungle instead of going after those guys?”

“Because I want to get them all. Or at least, all of the ones belonging to the cell with the one who seemed to be leading them. We’ll get them on the march tomorrow, when they come through here. There are sure to be other cells out there, but this is the one that killed our men. Killing them will demoralize the enemy and boost our own people’s morale.”

Studying me for a moment, Allaya asked, “And it’ll make you feel better?”

I smiled. “And it’ll make me feel better,” I admitted. “The Jedi tenets say that you should feel nothing when you kill an enemy. That it just perpetuates a cycle of hatred. It’s wrong. As a soldier, if you ever have to take up arms against an enemy for a just cause, then you should feel satisfied that you have killed the enemy and protected your people. Obviously, you should not find some perverse, sadistic joy in killing for its own sake. That is the line you must not cross, or you’ll be little better than a rabid beast. It’s one of the things that separates other Force users from the Sith.”

The redhead nodded. “So what happens after we deal with these gungans?”

“We’ll head to the front and see how Jaster is doing. Nabooian security is on high alert for gungan attacks, and given the fact that they fought a war against them less than a hundred years ago, I’m sure that by now they’ve reinstated all of the anti-gungan security measures they once had. We’ll check up on them after we check in with Jaster, just to be sure.” Taking another sip, I handed her canteen back to her and stood, dusting myself off. “Alright, let’s get back to it.”

We finished up before dawn, removing all signs of our presence and passing. When I gave it one last look over, I couldn’t tell we had ever been there. Nodding to myself, I motioned for Allaya to join me and we made our way into the trees, heading back down the path. Taking out some ration bars, we ate breakfast, then I let her take a nap while I kept watch.

The day wore on and I got in a short nap myself, before eventually we heard the sounds of gungans on the march. We secured our helmets and I motioned for Allaya to move into position further down the line. She nodded and took off through the trees, jumping across the path and taking up a position in one of the taller trees there—becoming little more than the nest of some animal and some hanging moss to the untrained eye.

Readying my rifle, I watched as the first gungans came into view, riding on their large, pachyderm-like mounts and pulling woven baskets full of glowing blue plasma bombs. Mounted on the back of the animals were crude tension-based catapults. I stared, trying to comprehend what I was seeing.

Then what I saw in the holocom… I mused, remembering the statues of beings that closely resembled humans with different eyes. It painted a certain picture of what had happened here on Naboo, historically. Whatever race had been here first had been technologically advanced. They had either left or died out, leaving behind their technology.

The gungans were most likely brought here, seeing as there was no gungan architecture on the planet, unless it was underwater. They inherited the technology of that dead or vanished race, but they had no understanding of it—no ability to build their own, new technology. So they pulled levers and pressed buttons, and through trial and error figured out how to make the ancient technology do certain things—things like produce bombs that they had no means to launch themselves, and so had to resort to using primitive catapults and pull it using beasts of burden. That they hadn’t figured out how to make their own technology using the huge advantage they had of working examples from a more advanced species said a lot about their own lacking intelligence as a people.

When the Naboo claimed and settled, thinking the planet was empty because apparently the precursor cities were all underwater and that’s where the gungans live now, the gungans tried to claim the planet was theirs. The Naboo likely put two and two together when they saw the disparity in what the gungans had available to use and what they actually built and realized that the gungans are a cargo cult. And of course, they wouldn’t respect the gungans because of this—and those types tended to have a culture based on reputation, face, or some similar concept, so the insult had to be avenged…

I shook my head, putting the thoughts away. It didn’t matter and I could speculate all day as to the most likely scenario, but the truth was lost to history. None of it mattered here and now, beyond the fact that the enemy were stupid enough to travel with unshielded explosives that would react violently to a sudden addition of plasma. Or fire.

I watched and waited as the line of gungans passed by below. They were alert, I’ll give them that. They constantly swept the jungle and, unlike others I had encountered, they kept a constant watch on the trees as well. Observing them, they were skittish animals that flinched and jumped at practically every little noise. The older, more battle scarred gungans kept the younger ones in line and moving—with the one I’d nicknamed Scar moving up and down the line and speaking quietly to the younger ones, explaining bits of fieldcraft such as what was making the noises they were hearing or the best plants to eat on the march.

Allaya’s comm clicked three times. The enemy line had reached the third marker before the pit traps. I clicked back once in acknowledgement, waited a second, then clicked twice more to signal the enemy weren’t completely in the killbox yet.

A few moments later, she clicked twice. Then once.

That’s going to have to be good enough, I mused, seeing only a few stragglers on the tail end. They were inside the outer edges to their north and south, but not where I wanted them to box them in with the rest. Deciding it didn’t matter, I clicked the go signal, then hit the switch on the detonator I’d prepared.

The rear line exploded as the first of the claymores buried under the trail went off, blasting several gungans into chunks. The sudden noise panicked the animals and they broke into a stampede forward as they tried to escape, stomping and crushing any gungans unlucky enough to get in front of them as they bellowed and ran. I hit the detonator for the second line of claymores and that convinced the gungans to follow, running away from the explosives.

“Wait! It’sa trap!” Scar yelled, but the other gungans either didn’t hear him or were too panicked to listen.

The front line hit the patch of ground we’d excavated and carefully covered again, rolling forward into the pit and onto the stakes we had spent most of the night hammering in. The animals squealed and went silent as they died and more ran in behind them, running over their bodies and forward onto more stakes within the trench. As the pachyderms carrying the catapults fell, their precious cargo fell with them, bouncing around inside the pit…

The pit which we’d filled the bottom of with fuel. I didn’t see the shot Allaya took, given she was using a Ghostfire crystal in her rifle just as I was, but I did see the results. The fuel went up and began burning gungans and animals alike, quickly reaching the plasma balls. The bombs went up, turning everything in the trench into a bloody mist and chunks, and further disorienting the gungans.

From there, Allaya and I began firing down into them. I worked my way up from the back, putting shots into the stragglers first, before working forward to meet Allaya in the middle. A few of them tried to escape into the forest to the north or south, only to find the nasty little surprises we’d left for them to turn this into a true killbox—claymores on trip lines and a line of spikes far enough away that it couldn’t be seen from the path. By the time we had finished, there was only one gungan left standing.

Scar didn’t bother to run. Instead, he drew his knife and assumed a stance. Waiting. Clearly wanting to challenge whoever it was who had attacked him to single combat.

I obliged, dropping down from the trees and casting off the camouflage cloak I’d woven from the local plants as Allaya did the same behind him. Reaching up, I removed my helmet and attached it to my mag plate.

“Yousa,” Scar spat. “Yousa killed meesa peoples—” Drawing my lightsaber, I lit it and his remaining eye went wide. “Yousa Jedi! Why yousa attackin us den?!”

I stalked closer and he lunged at me with the knife. Stepping back, I flicked my lightsaber up and his arm came down, the momentum practically slicing his own arm off on the blade. The miserable creature howled, clutching its new stump to its chest.

“Allaya, get me a stake.”

The redhead nodded and moved over to the flaming pit. Using the Force, she pried one of the flaming wooden stakes out and levitated it over. “Here, Master. Should I put it out?”

“Leave it on fire and plant it in the middle of the road,” I instructed, and watched as she drove it into the ground deep enough to stand up on its own. “Good girl. Now, go back to the ship.”

“But Master—”

“Go back. To. The. Ship.”

Allaya turned and hurried away, towards where we’d left the Rusted Silver hidden beneath a bunch of limbs to disguise it from aerial recon. I waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to the gungan and shutting off my lightsaber.

Looking between me and the stake, he apparently figured out what I had planned. Fumbling around on his waist, he pulled out an old blaster and pressed it to his head. “Meesa no givin you da satisfaction.”

He squeezed the trigger, or tried to. His hand refused to move as I held it still in the Force. “Who said you had a choice?”

Wrenching the pistol away, I tossed it to the side and lifted him into the air, stretching his limbs out enough to snap the joints. The creature glared defiantly at me with his one eye as I considered him.

Do I want to send a message in the style of Vlad the Impaler? It is very tempting…

On the one hand, impaling him ass first on a flaming stake would definitely send a message. And I might even enjoy it.

On the other hand… I wasn’t a monster. I didn’t have to stoop to his level for that message. Moreover, if I went the Vlad route, what kind of message would that send to my own allies? To my Padawans?

And after that lesson I gave Allaya last night. I would be a hypocrite and that’s not the lesson I want her to take from this.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Letting out a quiet sigh, I finished it with a quick stroke of my lightsaber, separating his head from his body. Then, I flung the body and head into the flaming pit, along with his arm and the stake. Pulling my helmet back on, I took off to catch up with Allaya and go meet up with Jaster.

“Sir, Mandalore’s here.”

“Send her over,” Jaster nodded, before activating his comms. “Sector three, rotate those shield generators out. Looks like they’re focusing on you. We’ll watch for another hour and if they maintain focus, we’ll start fading back and open a hole.”

“Roger that, general,” someone answered on the other end.

The next bombardment from the enemy tanks came and splashed off the shield. As soon as it ended, the shield went down and another came up. The enemy immediately changed their fire pattern from massed fire to staggered, having the tanks fire one at a time continuously. Humming, he listened to the pattern and, a few cycles in, half the shots overlapped to hit at the same time, then the other half, then the full group, before staggering again.

Boots thumped beside him and he glanced over to see Tanya’s silver armored and robed form stopping beside him, Allaya on the other side in her red and silver armor. “New tactic?”

Jaster shook his head, turning back to watch the front. “An old classic. It’s one of those things that you see come out eventually, any time blasters come up against shields. You keep the shields hot with a constant barrage of fire, not letting them switch the load off to another shield generator. If they try it, it leaves them open to bombardment. Then you hammer them with a couple of big strikes, then repeat it. It’ll wear them down eventually.”

“So they’re committed to breaching sector three?”

“Seems that way,” Jaster agreed. Keying up, he gave the order. “Start slowly pulling back from sector three. All other sectors, prepare to fall back to the next trench on shield failure.” Shutting off the comm connection, he continued, “And like this, we’ll just walk them right into the box.”

Tanya nodded. “Excellent. How long would you estimate before they fill the box and we can sweep their forces?”

Jaster hummed. “We’ll give it another day or two to make it look convincing. Let them take another few trenches, before we load up and run for the other end. Make it look like we’ve abandoned the front and are repositioning to the next defensible area.” Glancing at her and Allaya, he asked, “How did the hunt go?”

“We found and eliminated the enemy.”

Glancing at her from the corner of his vision, Jaster quietly asked, “You didn’t do anything… rash?”

She shook her head. “I considered it. Then I changed my mind.”

Jaster nodded. “Good. Our people wouldn’t have cared—hell, they would have probably celebrated. But you know how these softer worlds are. No stomach for sending a message, especially not if it’s us doing it. Too much bad blood over the years.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Tanya agreed. “The Republic would likely use it to claim we’ve started another Crusade and are genociding the locals or something asinine.”

“Yup,” Jaster agreed. “But enough about that. Allaya, come here girl.”

“Eh?” the girl turned and crossed over. “Yes?”

“Look out there and tell me what you see. What do you think the enemy’s gonna do next?” he asked, a smile pulling at his lips as he did.

When Tanya was her age, she wouldn’t have just known the answer, she’d have planned a counter-offensive and pushed the enemy back. It’s nice to teach a child who’s actually a child again, he mused as she hummed and considered the lines.

“Well, you said they were gonna push in, right? So, they’d probably lead with the tanks?”

“If they have any sense,” Tanya murmured.

Allaya considered for a moment. “But the Trade Federation droids are stupid. So… they’d send their rolly boys in first instead of sending armor. Right?”

That’s sticking, he snorted quietly, grinning. “That’s right. They like using their ‘rolly boys’ for sweep and clear. And what do you think they’ll do, when we’ve faded back?”

“…Reassemble their line and make a firing advance?” the redhead asked.

“Most likely,” Jaster confirmed. “What do you think they should do?”

Looking back and forth over the line, Allaya hummed. “Send an advance force to scout ahead and check for traps, then wait for nightfall to advance and take the next line of trenches.”

“If they had any sense,” Tanya reiterated.

“Which they don’t, so they’ll just come right over,” Allaya nodded. “And that’s why the plan will work, because they don’t think ahead, right?”

“Hopefully,” Jaster nodded. “But to be fair, this kind of tactic could work on most. It’s just a larger scale of something we already do. Now then, answer me this. If you could have one more weapon or tool for this battle, what would it be?”

“Uhh…” Allaya fell silent, crossing her arms over her chest as she thought it over. “Well, they’re clankers. Maybe… Some kind of really big EMP we can just blast over the area over and over? Something directional we can point at the enemy and not mess up our gear. That way, we can just reclaim all the intact droids, ship them home, reprogram them, and use them as labor.”

Jaster glanced at Tanya, who looked back and nodded. “Sounds like a good idea,” he agreed.

“I’ll forward it to the appropriate department and see if we can get something bigger made and put on a vehicle.” Reaching out, she laid a hand on Allaya’s shoulder. “I’m heading back to Theed to take care of some things. Do you want to stay here or come with me?”

Allaya turned to look up at Tanya. “Can I?”

Tanya’s helmet shifted to Jaster and he nodded. “Sure, I don’t mind. C’mon kiddo, let’s go inspect the lines.”

“I’ll be back to pick her up after dark.”

Jaster nodded and waved his adoptive daughter off. “Stop worrying. She’ll be fine. Go on, get.”

Tanya huffed, but turned and left. As soon as she was out of earshot, Jaster grinned. “Wanna fire some arty?”

“Hell yes!” the girl nodded, the enthusiasm obvious in her voice.

“Atta girl.”

33 BBY/967 GSC. Naboo Conflict +53 days. Coruscant.

“Alright, come at me.”

Eyeing the blonde girl across from him warily, Anakin stayed low and circled around. When he didn’t immediately attack, she smiled and took a threatening step forward. Anakin lunged, diving not at her midsection but at her legs. He caught Asajj just under the knees and brought her down to the mat they were practicing on. Then, things got kind of confusing for a few moments as they struggled to get and hold a grip on each other. Until eventually, he ended up pinned beneath her, the taller girl sitting on his lap as she pinned his hands above his head.

Panting, Anakin felt himself turning red as he glared up at the girl grinning smugly down at him. “It’s not fair! You’re the same age as me, but you’re bigger,” he complained.

Asajj rolled off and offered a hand. Anakin grudgingly took it and let her lift him to his feet. Nearby, Obi-Wan sat on a couch with a datapad, reading. Looking up, she sent him an amused smile. “Girls mature faster than boys, Ani. She’s bigger now, but by the time you’re twenty or so, you’ll be bigger.”

“Still not fair,” he sighed.

Asajj rolled her eyes. “‘Fair?’ There is no such thing as a fair fight. Fair fights are for suckers. Master says you should go into every fight trying to make it as unfair as possible, for the other guy.”

Anakin frowned, but when he glanced at Obi-Wan, the older girl sighed and nodded. “That sounds like a thing Tanya would say. And she’s not wrong. If at all possible, you always want to tilt the odds in your favor as much as you can. A ‘fair’ fight means there’s an equal chance of you and the enemy you’re facing dying, and you don’t want that.”

“So how do I make this unfair so I can win?” the boy asked.

Asajj shook her head. “You don’t. Not right here and right now. Sometimes, there’s no obvious way to cheat things so that you win—at least, not where you are. Those are the times when you run away, or strike and retreat. Go somewhere where you have an advantage that the enemy doesn’t.”

Considering that for a moment, Anakin hummed… before stepping forward and kicking Asajj in the shin. Then, he spun and ran away, laughing as she limped after him. Running down the corridor of the ship, he made his way to the cargo bay and stopped just inside the door. Looking around, he spotted a crate near the entrance. Climbing on top of it, he crouched and waited.

Asajj came running inside and stopped just inside the threshold. She looked around and took a few steps forward, towards where the far crates were stacked up.

Anakin waited until she got close enough, then launched himself off the crates he was on. He latched onto the girl’s back, wrapping his legs around her waist and one arm around her throat as he put her in one of the choke holds he’d been shown.

Asajj chuckled, then turned and walked back towards the lounge with Anakin still on her back. As they entered, they found Master Qui-Gon had joined Obi-Wan and they were speaking quietly. The pair looked up and Qui-Gon smiled. “It seems you’ve caught her. Good job, Anakin.”

Anakin felt himself blushing at the praise. “Thank you, Qui-Gon, sir.”

Asajj reached up and tapped his arm. Getting the message, Anakin released his legs and dropped off of the taller girl. Humming, the girl studied him for a moment before nodding, “We don’t have a training remote, so…”

Anakin’s eyes went wide as Asajj pulled out a blaster and began playing with something on the side. “What do you need that for?”

“Hm? Oh.” Asajj sent him a smile that sent a shiver down Anakin’s spine. “Well, Master says the best kind of training is the kind that has a painful lesson you want to avoid. So… Dodge.”

“Wha—whoa!” Anakin jumped to the side as Asajj aimed and fired at him. “You shot at me!”

“It’s on low. It’s fine,” the girl shrugged.

Anakin sent her an incredulous look, only for Asajj to fire again. “Ow! You shot me!”

“Yeah. I told you I would. Dodge.”

“Wah!” the boy yelped as he dodged the next shot, then yelped as the next hit. “Isn’t someone gonna stop her?!”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan shared a look, before Obi-Wan sighed and stood. “Asajj, give me the blaster.”

The blonde girl flipped the pistol around and handed it to Obi-Wan. Motioning for Anakin to move aside, Asajj took her place. Obi-Wan felt a bit uncertain about the blaster, as she didn’t particularly like them, but she couldn’t deny they were useful. So, she felt out the Force and followed its guidance, snapping the weapon up and firing.

Asajj dodged easily, before taking a step towards Obi-Wan. Anakin watched, his mouth and eyes growing progressively wider as this repeated faster and faster, until Asajj took the pistol from Obi-Wan and poked it into the older girl’s stomach.

“Bang.”

“You got me,” Obi-Wan smiled, before moving back to the couch.

“You see Anakin, with the Force, such feats are not just possible but easy,” Qui-Gon explained. “Asajj’s Master practices with her often, training her to dodge blaster fire.”

“Daily,” Asajj confirmed with a nod.

“It is a very useful skill to have. Not only does it sharpen your danger sense and your grasp of the Force, but it will prepare you for situations where you might be unarmed and facing an armed opponent. You won’t always have a lightsaber or some other weapon to hand, but that matters little when your own body is a weapon—the ultimate tool.”

“Oh,” Anakin murmured. “…You mean I’ll be able to dodge blasters eventually?”

“When you’re ready, you won’t need to,” Asajj grinned. “Master just freezes them in midair half the time. When she doesn’t swat them back to whoever sent them at her.”

Sighing, Anakin moved back into position and got ready. “Fine. Let’s do it,” he grumbled.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon watched as the pair resumed their training, the boy dodging what he could and trying not to complain when he couldn’t. Turning back to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon continued, “As I was saying, we’ll be dropping out of hyperspace shortly. Once we are, we’ll accompany the Queen and see to her quarters for the duration of our stay. Tomorrow, we’ll be meeting with the Senate.”

“Hopefully, that won’t take too long,” Obi-Wan murmured.

“Ah, to be young and naive again,” Qui-Gon smiled. “I will send a message to the Jedi High Council requesting an audience. Once they approve, we’ll go to the old Temple’s High Council chambers and speak with the Council there.”

Turning her gaze back to where Asajj had picked up the pace of her shooting, forcing Anakin to frantically dodge around the other side of the room, Obi-Wan asked, “Do you think they will approve you taking on another Padawan, Master? Especially one so old?”

“They will certainly complain, of that I have no doubt,” Qui-Gon sighed. A small grin pulled his lips up and his tone grew conspiratorial as he continued, “However, we have a distinct advantage on our side.”

“Oh?” Obi asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that, Master?”

“Not what. Who,” Qui-Gon chuckled. “I’m sure that if the High Council is unwilling to allow me to train young Anakin, well… Master Dooku’s sect will certainly welcome such a promising student. Why, just imagine what someone with such enormous potential could do with the right training, from the right Master. A Master like Tanya, perhaps…”

“Oh no,” Obi giggled. “Really, Master? You’re going to threaten the Council with Tanya? What would she say, if she knew you were using her reputation to terrorize the Council?”

“Oh, I believe she would be delighted and encourage me to continue to use her as a bludgeon,” he shook his head. “Hopefully, I won’t have to resort to it and they will see reason, but it’s always good to have a backup plan.” Meeting Obi’s gaze, he continued, “I believe you’re ready to be promoted to Knighthood.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “What? But Master, I haven’t taken the trials—!”

Qui-Gon smiled, shaking his head. “You have already accomplished many of them, but that is beside the point. The Trials are only one way of advancing. A Master may declare his Padawan ready to become a Jedi Knight in full at any time. I believe you are ready, Obi-Wan.”

“Master… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes. I accept.”

“Excellent. I’ll inform the Council when I tell them of Anakin.”

They both looked up as Queen Amidala entered the room, stopping to stare for a moment at the sight of Anakin cowering behind a table as Asajj fired into it. “What are you doing?!”

““Training!”” Asajj and Anakin both answered, before the boy grabbed something off the floor and hurled it at Asajj, who stepped aside and blasted it out of the air.

“Well stop!” Padme demanded. “Ani, we’re about to drop out of hyperspace. I thought you’d like to come to the cockpit and see Coruscant with me.”

The boy popped his head up from behind the table. Asajj, reacting entirely on instinct drilled into her by her Master, snapped off a shot from the hip and dinged the boy in the head. “Ow!”

“Asajj!” Padme scolded.

“I thought we were done!” Anakin yelled.

Asajj shook her head and asked, “Did you hear me say we were done?”

Anakin pouted. “No, but—!”

“Then we weren’t done.” She watched him on the floor, rubbing his head. After a moment, she nodded and holstered the pistol. “Now we’re done.”

“Your Master sounds like a—”

“You’ll want to choose your next words very carefully,” Asajj warned. “My mother sounds like a what?”

“…A real… training enthusiast,” the boy finished lamely.

Asajj nodded. “She is.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Anakin popped up to his feet, this time on the lookout for another surprise shot. None came, so he hurried over and grabbed Padme’s hand, then rushed out of the room and headed for the cockpit. Behind him, Padme smiled. “It’s good that you’re making friends.”

“I dunno if I’d call her a friend. She’s kind of a jerk,” the boy grumbled.

Glancing behind herself to make sure Asajj wasn’t in earshot, Padme quietly said, “Well, she was saved from a death cult and then raised by Tanya…”

“A what?!” Anakin sent Padme an incredulous look. “And what does her Master have to do with anything?”

Padme sent him an amused look. “I’m sure you’ll find out eventually. Now, come on. The planet is beautiful from space.” She hesitated, before admitting, “Not so much at the ground level.”

“What’s it look like?” Anakin asked as they entered the cockpit.

“Just wait. You’ll see,” she smiled as they stood in front of a window. Right on cue, they dropped out of hyperspace, revealing the glimmering city-planet that was Coruscant.

“Wow~!”

Padme smiled, squeezing Anakin’s hand a bit tighter as she enjoyed seeing his wonder over something so simple.