Clone Wars Gambit: Siege (29 page)

D
ESPITE
A
NAKIN’S PERSISTENT NAGGING
, Obi-Wan had not intended to sleep, not with nineteen villagers still in need of constant care—but his brutally weary body overruled him. He woke on the floor nearly two hours later to find Greti crouched beside one of her stuporous playmates, sponging the sweat of greensickness from the little girl’s skin. Hearing him stir, she looked up.

“Oh—did I cozzle you?” she said, anxious. “I never meant to.”

Obi-Wan sat up, his spine cracking. “It’s all right.” For a moment he was puzzled, and then he realized what was wrong. “When did the bombardment stop?”

“Half an hour ago, about.” Greti grinned. “Good, isn’t it?”

He looked around the hushed room. “It certainly is. Where’s Teeba Sufi?”

“Gone next door to put her head down, she has,” Greti said, dropping the sponge cloth into her bowl of water. “It’s just us.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be just us. Greti—” He had to smother a yawn. “I told you to go home.”

“I know what you told me, Teeb. And I did go home. But I couldn’t settle, so I came back.”

Exasperated, he shook his head at her.
She’s as stubborn as Anakin ever was
. “You’ll have your mam so cross with me.”

“Bohle understands.” Gently, Greti covered her sick playmate with a blanket. “You do, too, Teeb.”

Yes. He did. The urge to heal was blinding within her. “How are our other patients faring?”

With a shrug, Greti carried her bowl of mucky water to the sink. “No one’s died, not even Ryfus. That’s good.”

Ryfus had been shot to pieces by a mosquito droid. He might not be dead yet, but he would be soon if he didn’t get to a medcenter. “Yes. That is good. Greti, when was the last time you swallowed your dose of greensick medicine?”

She busied herself rinsing the sponge cloth.

“
Greti.
” Swallowing a pained grunt, Obi-Wan clambered to his feet. “I won’t have you here if you don’t take your dose.”

“It’s horrible,” she muttered, as he took the bottle and cup from the cupboard and poured her some. The bottle was perilously close to empty. “You don’t take it.”

He held out the cup. “I can manage without it. You can’t.
Drink
.”

She drank Sufi’s bitter medicine, glowering, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Good girl.”

But instead of smiling at his praise, like she usually did, Greti stared out of the small window above the sink. With the bombardment ceased, no bright flashes lighting the night sky, her young, thin face was almost lost in shadows.

“Did you mean what you said, Obi-Wan? About help coming soon?”

“Of course I meant it. I’d never lie about something like that.”

She glanced at him. “Then why are you still scared?”

Still
scared?
And here I thought I was doing such a fine job of hiding from her
. “I’m tired, Greti. It’s easy to get discouraged when you’re tired. But you mustn’t think it means I’ve lost faith in my friends. I haven’t.”

Lips pursed, she rinsed the medicine cup and set it to drain. Then she flicked him a glance. “Have I really been a help to you, Teeb?”

“Yes. An enormous help.”

“Is that because—” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Obi-Wan, I’m different, aren’t I?”

The Force give me strength
. “We’re all different, Greti.” And that made her scowl. “You know what I mean.” If only he didn’t. “Greti…”

“Bohle tells me all the time I shouldn’t feel things so hard,” she said, drying her hands on the front of her grubby tunic. “But I can’t help it. Born this way, I was.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “I know.”

She looked at him, so hopeful. “Teeb—when you go, can you take me with you? Somewhere I can learn about being different?”

He should have seen this coming. He should have prepared himself for it. “Greti, I can’t,” he said, his throat painfully tight. “There are—ways of doing things, where I come from. Rules.”

“Oh.” She jerked her chin up. “I’m not good enough?”

He made himself meet her glittering, wide-eyed stare. “It’s too late.”

“
Oh.
” Her lips trembled. “But—I’m good enough.”

Waifs and strays.
Qui-Gon
. “Greti, you’re better than good enough. It’s been an honor, teaching you what little I know.”

“Then why can’t you—” The child bit her lip. “Rules.”

Aching, he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

In the lamplit gloom behind him, a woman shifted on her cot and moaned. Greti’s stare shifted. “That’s Teeba Yancy, that is,” she said. “I didn’t think she felt right, before.”

Obi-Wan turned. It might not be admirable, but the distraction was a relief. “Then we’d best get her right, hadn’t we?”

Together, using the Force, they brought down the woman’s spiking fever. Then they checked each patient, cot by cot easing discomfort, changing bandages, and applying Sufi’s dwindling ointments and salves. Obi-Wan spent the longest time with Rikkard, struggling to ease the man free of his damotite poisoning. With Jaklin refusing to leave her cottage, Torbel desperately needed its other leader.

But the toxic smoke had soaked deep into Rikkard’s flesh and bones. Wanting to spare Greti, Obi-Wan pushed himself so hard he came close to collapse, but he couldn’t break the damotite’s vicious hold.

Greti patted his arm. “Teeb, Teeb, it’s hurting yourself, you are. Don’t. We need you.”

Biting back a groan, he pulled himself free of Rikkard’s suffering. And then, breathing hard, he saw that Arrad was awake and watching him from the next cot.

“It’s all right, Arrad,” he croaked. “Your father will be fine.”

Arrad’s sunken eyes closed, hiding his fear and doubt.

“Obi-Wan,” said Greti, tugging his sleeve. “Come and sit.”

Too tired to argue, feeling ill and shivery, he let the child chivvy him back to his empty spot on the floor and settle him there with his shoulders pressed to the wall. Then she fetched him half a cup of water and stood over him until he drank it.

He handed the empty cup back to her. “You’re very bossy.”

“That’s because you won’t listen.”

“Said the girl who fights tooth and nail against taking her medicine!”

With a swift, sly grin Greti dropped to the floor beside him and slid her arm through his. Letting her head fall against his shoulder, she sighed.

“It tastes bad.”

“True. But that’s no excuse.” Greti giggled. “Now who’s bossy?”

“I’m the grown-up. It’s my job.”

She scoffed at that, but then fell silent. After a while she sighed again. “Obi-Wan… if it’s too late for me, that’s not your fault. I do understand. Rules are rules.”

It almost broke him, that she’d try to ease his guilt when he’d condemned her to this barren exile.

“Yes, Greti. They are.”

But we disregarded them for Anakin. Why can’t I do the same for her, when she’s a natural-born healer and we’re in desperate need of her skills?

“Obi-Wan,” she said. “Maybe I could—”

But then the droids started firing again, blaster bolts booming, and her thought was lost in a wave of barely suppressed fear.

Obi-Wan took her hand. “It’s all right, Greti. Anakin won’t let the shield fail. And help will come. Believe me. It will come.”

She was so frightened. He could hear the whimper, trapped in her throat. But like a Jedi, she refused to give in to her fear. “I believe you, Obi-Wan.”

Stang. What a waste
. “Good girl,” he said. “Now close your eyes and meditate, just like I showed you.”

Trusting him, she closed her eyes. When he was satisfied that he could leave her for a little while, Obi-Wan let himself sink into the Force.

Show me what’s out there. Show me what’s to come
.

But the future remained elusive. All he had left was his faith—and his faith was starting to wear horribly thin.

D
RY-MOUTHED WITH TENSION
, Ahsoka stood on
Indomitable’s
bridge and watched Gold and Arrow squadrons engage the enemy. The pilots’ fierce joy resounded through the Force, waking echoes of joy in her. More than anything she wanted to be out there with them, only she wasn’t a good enough combat pilot. Not yet. But Master Windu had promised her she’d see plenty of action once the blockade was broken and they could hit Lanteeb soil, and that eased her disappointment.

If the blockade is broken, that is. If we get to touch dirt
.

Master Windu and Admiral Yularen were in the Battle Operations Room, coordinating the attack via holotracking. So far Grievous still hadn’t found a way to jam them again, which meant there were full communications between
Indomitable
and the pilots. She’d have been welcome to observe with them, but she wanted to watch this fight live, in realspace, just as she’d watched the previous two skirmishes. Master Windu didn’t mind. He’d quizzed her on both engagements afterward, testing her grasp of tactics and strategy, looking for weaknesses in her assessments that might cause trouble later.

She’d impressed him. She wasn’t supposed to notice or care, but she did. Impressing Mace Windu meant something. It was almost as rewarding as impressing Anakin.

So far there’d been no all-out, no-holds-barred clash with Grievous’s battle group—just a couple of short, sharp jabs in his flank to keep him occupied, to stop him from thinking about why the enemy was simply… hanging around. It was all part of the plan. Thinking about that, Ahsoka felt her pulse race.
Taria
. It was crazy.
Crazy
. The crazy woman was going to get herself killed.

The void beyond the bridge’s viewport filled and flashed with fire as an Arrow Squadron pilot knocked down two vulture droids with a single shot. One of the crew, watching, let out a restrained but heartfelt “
Yes!
”

Grinning, Ahsoka kept most of her attention on the fighters from Gold Squadron. Anakin’s boys.
Her
boys. She and Anakin shared them. And then more vulture droids spewed out of one of Grievous’s battleships, hornets from a malevolent nest. A moment later she heard a buzz from the communications console behind her.

“Okay, here she comes,” Lieutenant Avrey announced, and toggled a switch on her board. “Master Windu? Admiral? We have a green light.”

“
Thank you, Lieutenant,
” said Master Windu calmly over the comm, as though the lieutenant had just made a passing note of the time. “
Alert
Pioneer
and
Coruscant Sky.”

And that explained why there were more vulture droids on the offensive. They’d spotted Taria in the captured Techno Union ship, closing in. She must have alerted the Seps, let them know she was coming in hot. And they must believe she was one of theirs—which meant Master Yoda’s audacious plan was working. Ahsoka wished she could reach out through the Force, touch her new friend’s mind and let her know she wasn’t alone. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. There might be a Force-sensitive on one of Grievous’s ships. It was too dangerous to take the chance.

A stirring in her mind, a rush of recognition, and then she saw the sleek, swift Sep ship with Taria at the controls flashing past
Indomitable’s
port flank. Master Windu had chosen Fireball to lead the fake attack against their fake enemy. Ahsoka held her breath, watching Taria’s desperate attempt to avoid interception. Stang, she was a great pilot. She was really making this look
good
. So was Fib. More Gold Squadron ships poured after him. They were all making this look so good, no way would Grievous ever suspect it was a lie. Vulture droids swarmed to protect the Sep ship. Half of Arrow Squadron broke off to engage them. And then—yes yes yes—there were the Hammers, zipping out of
Pioneer
, and it was a full-on four-way engagement, the void above Lanteeb bursting into furious action.

Fingers clenched to fists, every sense extended, Ahsoka did her best to follow each individual engagement at once and keep track of Taria, being chased by Fib and three other Gold ships. She nearly cried out when one of Fib’s boys—who was it? Could she sense it? Sandcat? Was that him?—caught a clip from a vulture and spun madly out of control. But he was all right, he was safe and limping for home.

And then someone else wasn’t so lucky. A Gold boy was blown clear out of the sky. Groans sounded around the bridge as grief tightened her throat.

That was Bammer. He liked nerf stew and opera. Stang. I just felt Bammer die
.

Fireball had to be hurting, but his course stayed true. He and his wingman hunted after Taria, leaving the rest of Gold Squadron and the boys from Hammer and Arrow to keep the surviving vulture droids busy.

They’re making it look so real. If I didn’t know better I’d think they were trying to kill her
.

Grievous was still fooled. He sent out more vultures to help her. And then, just like Master Yoda planned it, with perfect precision Fireball clipped Taria’s starboard fin. As the Sep ship went into an impressive, swirling roll Taria blew the fake charge they’d rigged in the left-hand engine pod. The vulture droids let her pass through, streaming smoke, and then closed ranks to charge Fireball and Can, his wingman, their plasma cannons blazing.

Break now, Fib! Break now!

Ahsoka wanted to scream the words out loud. She wanted to pound her fists on the transparisteel viewport, then race belowdecks to the hangar and grab a fighter and join him. She
hated
this watching. Watching was for
droids
.

But Fireball didn’t need her help. Next to Anakin he was Gold Squadron’s best pilot. He and Can tore up the sky, shattering droid after droid into slivers of hot metal.

Taria was nothing but a fast-dwindling light in the distance now, safely on her way to a staged crash landing on Lanteeb. Ahsoka laughed, giddy with relief, but that didn’t last long. There was still a real firefight to win. Not only would Grievous suspect trouble if the Republic ships suddenly withdrew—the rest of his vulture ships needed turning into slag.

Closing her eyes, she sent a message winging after Taria.

May the Force be with you, Master Damsin. Don’t do anything stupid. Bring yourself back alive. And please bring Anakin and Master Kenobi back with you
.