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lukeoutbelow2013-06-07 12:52 am
skyguy) wrote in lukeoutbelow2013-06-07 12:52 am
Distant Skies: con't
It had only been about two months, but it felt like forever.
Part of him had started to give up hope, after he'd come home from that mission and discovered the Temple in an uproar--the Sith, sensed on Coruscant itself! The window was gone. He couldn't say for sure what it was, only that he'd been halfway across the galaxy and unable to feel it. It was frustrating, to say the least. They'd stood in the briefing room, Ahsoka and Orresh watching them with furrowed brows, Sol restless on his shoulder. Obi-Wan had arrived before them, and greeted them as they left. He gave them a little more information: the Council had sent out a search party, led by Windu, and discovered traces left in an abandoned warehouse district, but the trail had gone cold.
Then a messenger came, saying the Chancellor wanted to speak to Anakin. That wasn't unusual; Palpatine seemed more comfortable speaking to him about matters of concern over any of the Masters. Obi-Wan looked grim, but said nothing, and Ahsoka left with him.
The Chancellor seemed agitated as well. Anakin reassured him that the Jedi would find the threat before it could reach him, but that didn't seem to be the problem. Sol had gripped Anakin's shoulder so hard with her talons that she bruised him through the leather, but she hadn't been able to explain her uneasiness afterward. Anakin liked and trusted the man, but he was in a mood the young Jedi had never seen before, and it troubled him.
That Dooku could have gotten so close--it had to have been Dooku, because who else could disguise themselves so carefully, and vanish without a trace? That was the biggest worry. That he was always one step ahead of them, that he had a skifter up his sleeve. The Council was on edge, too. He could feel it, though to an ordinary person they would seem as calm and composed as ever. But a tremor ran through the Force. A low rumble underneath the already dark, chaotic surface of the lake. The Dark Side was close.
But nothing had come of it. A week passed, then another, and his leave was almost up. He went to see Padme, told her the news--and she'd sighed and shaken her head and told him to put the Observatory and the PHS out of his mind. They were at war. There had been too many close calls, too many times he'd had to come up with an excuse for slipping away. Usually those were excuses to see her, and--well, he felt a little ashamed, when he realized that. Had he been neglecting his wife? Sol sat by Rayan on the perch Padme had gotten for her office, disguised as a piece of art, preening him anxiously. He was a little aloof, but didn't reject her.
He wanted to tell Obi-Wan, too, but Sol reminded him their former master would only say the same thing. Ahsoka shot him knowing looks when they sparred together, or passed in the Temple halls, but she didn't bring it up on her own. Orresh did, after several attempts to pounce on Sol failed. He lay down on the floor tiles, ears drooping, and pointed out that she seemed more snappish than usual. Did she miss the people she met? They'd been born there, in a sense, the dæmons. He felt the same longing sometimes.
Sol had spoken for him, as he and Ahsoka stood by in silent solidarity, that they'd never thought they'd prefer anywhere remote at all. Certainly they'd never give up the stars, their ship, travelling--but away from the war, from duty, they'd found a strange sort of peace. She made sure to leave out what they'd discussed with Padme, however--how Anakin had told her that maybe, when everything was over, they could live there as a real family. She'd laughed sadly and told him he was dreaming. He had the Order, she the Senate. They couldn't just leave.
In the end, there was nothing to be done. No PHS, no window: the connection was gone. Finally they'd returned to Padme, the night before deployment for a new mission, restless, and confessed.
Luke. Their son. Living proof of their love, their union--and a bleak future that could be changed, if only they knew the details. And now it was all lost. He stayed with her that night, just to be close, and she was silent for a very long time, her head against his shoulder. He could feel her turmoil. A child was impossible to hide. But he knew it was what both of them wanted.
The next morning, he was among the stars again; a command mission heading a battleship with Obi-Wan, no dogfights in his little starfighter. It made him even more restless, because he knew he could do so much more in the heat of battle. Sitting back and giving orders? They had officers for that. Ahsoka was off on her own mission with Master Yoda, looking after a group of younglings as they obtained the crystals for their first lightsabers. Not a job for a Padawan, usually, but their numbers were dwindling.
In a sense, both missions were a success. R2 managed to swipe a Seperatist encryption chip and warn the fleet of an ambush, and Ahsoka and her little group of younglings had run afoul of Hondo Ohnaka and his irrepressible pirate crew and still come out on top. But there was something else, something about his apprentice's stance as she shifted from foot to foot during the debriefing, how she kept glancing at him. He'd been with her long enough to recognize she had a secret she could barely keep in.
When they were finally alone, she thrust it into his hands with little ceremony. His PHS, battered, the screen cracked, the back panel hanging on only by a few wires, but it was mostly intact. She'd spotted it in the hold of the pirates' ship, tossed aside and dismissed as useless junk when they couldn't get it to work. Apparently that had been enough to prevent it from teleporting back to the Observatory after the one-month deactivation deadline. He took it to his room and rattled off orders to R2 for tools, pacing as he examined it. He could fix it; Nhadala had let him tinker with a broken prototype in order to see if he could rig it with a holoprojector. That hadn't been successful, much to his frustration, but it was enough that he knew which wires to reconnect, which parts he could replace with the closest thing he could find. At least the particle core was intact; there was nothing like it that existed anywhere in the galaxy.
When he finally felt the tingle of energy running through it again, his heart leapt. The screen flickered to life, still readable, and he skimmed over the most recent posts before skipping right to his contact list. He could only hope the recipient's device was still active, too.
Luke, can you read this?
Part of him had started to give up hope, after he'd come home from that mission and discovered the Temple in an uproar--the Sith, sensed on Coruscant itself! The window was gone. He couldn't say for sure what it was, only that he'd been halfway across the galaxy and unable to feel it. It was frustrating, to say the least. They'd stood in the briefing room, Ahsoka and Orresh watching them with furrowed brows, Sol restless on his shoulder. Obi-Wan had arrived before them, and greeted them as they left. He gave them a little more information: the Council had sent out a search party, led by Windu, and discovered traces left in an abandoned warehouse district, but the trail had gone cold.
Then a messenger came, saying the Chancellor wanted to speak to Anakin. That wasn't unusual; Palpatine seemed more comfortable speaking to him about matters of concern over any of the Masters. Obi-Wan looked grim, but said nothing, and Ahsoka left with him.
The Chancellor seemed agitated as well. Anakin reassured him that the Jedi would find the threat before it could reach him, but that didn't seem to be the problem. Sol had gripped Anakin's shoulder so hard with her talons that she bruised him through the leather, but she hadn't been able to explain her uneasiness afterward. Anakin liked and trusted the man, but he was in a mood the young Jedi had never seen before, and it troubled him.
That Dooku could have gotten so close--it had to have been Dooku, because who else could disguise themselves so carefully, and vanish without a trace? That was the biggest worry. That he was always one step ahead of them, that he had a skifter up his sleeve. The Council was on edge, too. He could feel it, though to an ordinary person they would seem as calm and composed as ever. But a tremor ran through the Force. A low rumble underneath the already dark, chaotic surface of the lake. The Dark Side was close.
But nothing had come of it. A week passed, then another, and his leave was almost up. He went to see Padme, told her the news--and she'd sighed and shaken her head and told him to put the Observatory and the PHS out of his mind. They were at war. There had been too many close calls, too many times he'd had to come up with an excuse for slipping away. Usually those were excuses to see her, and--well, he felt a little ashamed, when he realized that. Had he been neglecting his wife? Sol sat by Rayan on the perch Padme had gotten for her office, disguised as a piece of art, preening him anxiously. He was a little aloof, but didn't reject her.
He wanted to tell Obi-Wan, too, but Sol reminded him their former master would only say the same thing. Ahsoka shot him knowing looks when they sparred together, or passed in the Temple halls, but she didn't bring it up on her own. Orresh did, after several attempts to pounce on Sol failed. He lay down on the floor tiles, ears drooping, and pointed out that she seemed more snappish than usual. Did she miss the people she met? They'd been born there, in a sense, the dæmons. He felt the same longing sometimes.
Sol had spoken for him, as he and Ahsoka stood by in silent solidarity, that they'd never thought they'd prefer anywhere remote at all. Certainly they'd never give up the stars, their ship, travelling--but away from the war, from duty, they'd found a strange sort of peace. She made sure to leave out what they'd discussed with Padme, however--how Anakin had told her that maybe, when everything was over, they could live there as a real family. She'd laughed sadly and told him he was dreaming. He had the Order, she the Senate. They couldn't just leave.
In the end, there was nothing to be done. No PHS, no window: the connection was gone. Finally they'd returned to Padme, the night before deployment for a new mission, restless, and confessed.
Luke. Their son. Living proof of their love, their union--and a bleak future that could be changed, if only they knew the details. And now it was all lost. He stayed with her that night, just to be close, and she was silent for a very long time, her head against his shoulder. He could feel her turmoil. A child was impossible to hide. But he knew it was what both of them wanted.
The next morning, he was among the stars again; a command mission heading a battleship with Obi-Wan, no dogfights in his little starfighter. It made him even more restless, because he knew he could do so much more in the heat of battle. Sitting back and giving orders? They had officers for that. Ahsoka was off on her own mission with Master Yoda, looking after a group of younglings as they obtained the crystals for their first lightsabers. Not a job for a Padawan, usually, but their numbers were dwindling.
In a sense, both missions were a success. R2 managed to swipe a Seperatist encryption chip and warn the fleet of an ambush, and Ahsoka and her little group of younglings had run afoul of Hondo Ohnaka and his irrepressible pirate crew and still come out on top. But there was something else, something about his apprentice's stance as she shifted from foot to foot during the debriefing, how she kept glancing at him. He'd been with her long enough to recognize she had a secret she could barely keep in.
When they were finally alone, she thrust it into his hands with little ceremony. His PHS, battered, the screen cracked, the back panel hanging on only by a few wires, but it was mostly intact. She'd spotted it in the hold of the pirates' ship, tossed aside and dismissed as useless junk when they couldn't get it to work. Apparently that had been enough to prevent it from teleporting back to the Observatory after the one-month deactivation deadline. He took it to his room and rattled off orders to R2 for tools, pacing as he examined it. He could fix it; Nhadala had let him tinker with a broken prototype in order to see if he could rig it with a holoprojector. That hadn't been successful, much to his frustration, but it was enough that he knew which wires to reconnect, which parts he could replace with the closest thing he could find. At least the particle core was intact; there was nothing like it that existed anywhere in the galaxy.
When he finally felt the tingle of energy running through it again, his heart leapt. The screen flickered to life, still readable, and he skimmed over the most recent posts before skipping right to his contact list. He could only hope the recipient's device was still active, too.
Luke, can you read this?