The Clone Wars_ No Prisoners Part 22

"That's . . . still quite extreme." She's running from me, too. I've lost her. "They don't tend to take kindly to that."

"I know."

And now he had to ask. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Yes. You'll always be able to find me. They won't."

"How?"

"I'll let you know when we reach Kemla." She looked at the bulkhead chrono. "We've still got an hour. Do you know what to do with an hour?"

It wasn't celebratory; it couldn't be. It was more a sad acceptance of the lives they led, with no end or prospect of domestic normality in sight. It was as much for comfort as anything.

"I can probably think of something," he said.

Chapter Twelve.

As with all faith, some basic messages become distorted over time. Why should attachment lead to the dark side? Loving commitment is the cornerstone of civilization, of society, and unites all living creatures. How can it be wrong? I a.s.sert that it's fixation-obsession-that leads to darkness and evil. That blind focus can corrupt any area of our lives. We may do terrible things because we're obsessed with a lover, with wealth, with power . . . or even with a set of inflexible beliefs that have come to mean more to us than the welfare of living beings themselves. Do you take my point, Master Yoda?

-Master Djinn Altis, in a rare exchange of letters with Master Yoda, some years before the outbreak of war HANGAR DECK, LEVELER, HALF AN HOUR OUT FROM KEMLA.

Anakin had put it off for as long as he could, but now he had to face it.

He clambered around the interior of the CR-20, making notes on his datapad and imagining how the ship might be better adapted for the Grand Army. A fleet of these would be useful; larger than a LAAT/i, hyperdrive-capable, well armed. Just the job for inserting troops when an Acclamator was far too big and a larty was too small or the range too great. Good option for special forces, perhaps. His interest was genuine, but he admitted to himself that the examination was distraction from what was eating at him.

Altis.

He felt the man coming. He didn't leave an impression in the Force like any Jedi Master Anakin had known, except perhaps for that sense of uneasy curiosity that felt almost familiar.

Anakin waited until he heard Altis's boots on the metal ramp before he turned around.

"I'm sorry about your men, General," Altis said.

"Yes, we lose far too many." Anakin put the datapad away. There was no point trying to fool Altis into thinking he wasn't rattled by his eccentric ways, and by one way in particular. "I know Rex is especially disturbed. I'll talk to him later-he tends to prefer a little s.p.a.ce at times like these."

"And at times like these, no doubt you see the wisdom of avoiding attachment. Growing too fond of someone is a certain route to pain for one of you."

Does he know?

It was Anakin's first thought. He almost panicked.

Altis wasn't like other Jedi; he might have been able to sense all kinds of things that even Obi-Wan-even Yoda-couldn't. His followers could do things that no other Jedi seemed able to-the affinity with machines, with computers. Anakin was a gifted mechanic, but Callista could live the machine. It was almost alarming.

Not half as alarming as thinking that Altis might know about Padme, though.

"Rex regrets the brevity of their lives-as do I." Altis looked a little younger now. He'd changed his posture subtly, no longer clasping his hands above his belly, but hands on hips. It transformed him from a sage into a veteran soldier somehow. Anakin knew he wasn't dealing with a lightweight.

"General Skywalker, I knew Qui-Gon Jinn. Extraordinary man."

"He certainly made a big impression on me."

"I sense what's troubling you."

"Oh." What do I say? He'd never tell anyone, of course. I feel it. "It's quite a list."

"It's not wrong to have disagreements with the Jedi Council. Qui-Gon had his differences with them, as do I. It's not neces-sarily a bad thing."

"Master . . . how many students have you taught?"

Altis shrugged and looked off to one side as if calculating. "Probably thousands. I'm a traditionalist-I keep it simple. No point being more complex than we need to be. So I teach being good, doing good, and asking good questions. That's about it, really."

Anakin almost gasped. He felt stupid for being shocked, but he'd had no idea how many followers Altis might have. Now he knew. This wasn't a tiny sect of lunatics.

Altis smiled. It wasn't smug. It was regretful. It was as if he felt he was too late for something.

"Aren't you going to ask me what you really want to know, young man?"

It was Anakin's only chance. He knew he was unlikely to see much of Altis again, if ever. Altis seemed to know that, too. He appeared to be giving farewell advice. And he didn't look like the kind of man who did that out of habit.

"Would you answer me if I did?"

"Of course."

"Are you married?"

Altis tilted his head slightly to one side. "I lost my wife some years ago. I miss her terribly. I was a better Jedi for her influence, too."

"Attachment hasn't. . . turned you to the dark side, clearly. Nor any of your followers."

"Now we might get to your real question."

Anakin almost broke. He felt such compa.s.sion, such honesty and humility in Altis, that he wondered if he could safely confide in him. It wasn't fear of Altis exposing his secret marriage that scared him, though. He was scared that once he discussed his turmoil openly, then he could never cope with being a Jedi-his kind of Jedi, Obi-Wan's kind of Jedi-again. And he had no idea where that might lead.

"I'm not sure I have one," Anakin said.

"Well, if I give you an answer, then you needn't feel you betrayed your Masters by asking one." Altis sat down on one of the bulkhead safety rails. "I don't know why Master Yoda or any of the other Jedi Council members rarely prepare their followers for the fact that we exist and yet haven't fallen prey to the dark side. It's certainly true for many beings, Force-users or not. But their problem isn't attachment. Their problem is obsession." Altis paused for a moment. Anakin felt he was being searched somehow, his thoughts probed. "So before I could tell you if attachment was right for you, you would have to ask yourself if you could handle it-Jedi or not."

Anakin was now ready to slam the ramp shut if anyone looked like wandering in and cutting this conversation short. He had to know more. He had to be able to understand, so that he didn't go back to Coruscant overwhelmed by the urge to confront Yoda.

"How would I tell if I could handle it, Master?"

Altis shrugged. "Could you let someone go, if you loved them? Could you let them walk away? Could you live without them? How far would you go to stop them from leaving? What would you do to save them? Ask yourself, listen, and if any of your answers make you feel afraid . . . attachment may be fraught with misery, for you and those around you."

It was simple; Altis said he liked to keep things uncomplicated. And, like all simple things, it was hard to do. Anakin still couldn't tell if Altis knew about Padme, but he certainly knew about attachment, and he gave the impression that he knew Anakin struggled with it. Maybe he also knew that Anakin struggled with the knowledge that he had failed to save those dearest to him.

Well, Anakin wanted the truth. He was prepared to be scrutinized.

"You really are a very good teacher, Master Altis."

"Not really," he said. "I just know how to ask questions. My students give me the answers. So, I am in fact... a student. I always will be. The oldest Padawan in town. Now, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"They call you the Chosen One. Do you feel chosen?"

"Not really." Altis had a way of disarming him. He wasn't sure he'd have said that to anyone except Padme. "I feel . . . dif-ferent. I don't quite fit in. I try. Maybe I started too old."

"Callista was older than you are now when she became my Padawan. I think some life experience can make a better Jedi. But I wouldn't want you-or Master Yoda-to think I was trying to lure you to our little community. I don't seek recruits." Altis looked deadly serious now. Anakin knew exactly what he was saying, weighing his words as carefully as a man could. "But if you ever get kicked out of the Temple, remember you can always find us. We never close."

He got up, made a few grunts of pain, and put both palms flat on the small of his back.

"I can sense your Padawan coming," he said. "She's had a bit of a culture shock meeting us. I'm sorry if that causes you problems. Just tell her we're harmless nuts if it starts to become a problem."

"How does anyone find you?" Anakin asked. He had to ask, even if it was obliquely put. "I'd never heard of your community, although Qui-Gon mentioned you by name."

Altis touched two fingers to his brow in a mock salute. "Just look in the unhappy places everyone else forgets," he said. "We'll be there, doing what we can." Then he walked down the ramp, still rubbing his back ruefully. "Don't forget to ask your-self those questions, General."

Anakin found himself staring at the open bay door long after Altis had vanished. Maybe there was a solution after all. The old Master seemed to have more answers than he admitted to.

Could I live without her?

Would I let her go?

Anakin felt uneasy, as if he were looking down into a well with his hands firmly on the sides, but starting to slip as he stared in dismay at something emerging from the depths. He pulled back. Maybe this wasn't the time to ask himself those kinds of questions, not here in the aftermath of battle. He'd leave it until he had a quiet moment to meditate. That sense of not wanting to look was . . . misleading. It had to be.

Altis couldn't be right about everything, after all.

Anakin decided the first thing he'd do when Leveler dropped out of hypers.p.a.ce was to comm Padme and tell her.

She'd never want to leave him, anyway, nor would he ever leave her. Altis's question didn't really apply.

Did it?

TRANSFER DOCK, KEMLA SHIPYARDS.

There was still work to be done. Callista sat with Ash, saying nothing, thinking a lot, and watching Geith sparring playfully with one of the Ryn who occasionally traveled with them.

"You wouldn't believe we'd just fought a battle," Ash said.

Wookiee Gunner eased onto one of the berthing piers at Kemla's transfer dock, an insect alongside Leveler. The damage to the a.s.sault ship was now painfully visible in the high-output illumination that bathed the orbiting dock in harsh, blue-white light. She was a ma.s.s of scorch marks, buckled plates, and missing spars. Dockworkers were already putting lines on her and marshaling tiny pilot vessels into place around her.

Callista nodded in the direction of the warship. The battered hull filled most of the viewport on that side.

"Oh, I believe ..."

"What did it feel like to merge with the missile system?" Ash asked.

Callista could now only recall brief but vivid freeze-frames of the event. The moments of machine-like clarity stayed with her, though. She was sure that was why her Force senses didn't feel quite the same even now.

"There was a point at which I thought I might never separate from it," she said. "I think I quite enjoyed being a machine for a while."

But not a battle droid. One step too far.

She thought of Rex, and wondered if she'd be able to check up on Joc, Boro, Hil, or Ross, to see that they were okay. The speed with which folks formed bonds in combat still surprised her, even though she should have known it was always that way.

"Do you think," she said, "that combat binds us tighter than everyday friendships because it's a defense mechanism? That we've evolved to stick together with the beings most likely to fight to defend us?"

"That's a very . . . machine-like view."

"You're laughing at me now."

"Not at all. But I'd rather think that we bond more strongly in adversity because we see others for what they really are- prepared to die to save us, rather than run away."

Not everyone.

Just the good ones.

"That's near enough for me," Callista said.

Yarille was the next stop. It was a world n.o.body cared much about; even the fighting there had been brief and had moved on, as if the place wasn't even worth conquering. The Republic's meteorological information service said Yen Bachask-the worst-hit town-was facing a harsh winter, and that the snows had already started.

Master Altis wandered across to her, no sign of impatience while they waited for the transit shuttle. Geith gave up his mock boxing bout with the Ryn boy-even a Jedi had to struggle to get a punch past his guard-and flopped down on the seat beside her.

"I hope we didn't upset the general and his Padawan too much," Callista said.

"Oh, a little challenge to our beliefs every day is a bracing walk for both the intellect and the soul." Altis stared at Leveler. "I certainly had a few challenges to mine in the last few days."

"I meant that I don't want to call down the Jedi Order on our heads, Master."

"I doubt that'll happen, my dear. We've had an arrangement for some time, after all."

"But what kind of arrangement can we have if we think they're wrong about this war?" Callista stood and offered him her seat. "We can't ignore it."

Altis shook his head politely and pointed to his lower back, indicating that it was playing him up again.

"I'd be a liar if I said that I didn't feel negative about Master Yoda sometimes," he said. "So I ask myself why, and recognize that I have to deal with my own insecurities and conceits. But when I strip that away, and I look at what worries Geith, then I find more objective grounds to concern me."

"Then what do we do about it?"

"We deal with what the war presents us, as if there were no Jedi leading the Republic's forces. It's not a matter of being on their side or not. We are on the side of those who need us most."

"Then we may well end up fighting for the Republic."