HER FIRST INSTINCT WAS TO RUN. She was a good fighter, but she also knew when she was overmatched. Raada was remote; there was no need for an Imperial presence, especially one so heavy, unless the Empire had a good reason. A living Jedi — however inaccurate that designation — would certainly give the Empire cause. Even as she mentally calculated how long it would take to get to her ship, Ahsoka forced herself to slow down, to think—focus—before she reacted.
The Empire had no reason to suspect she was on Raada. Officially, Ahsoka Tano was dead, or at least presumed so. Even if someone had traced her to Thabeska, no one there had known her true name or her destination when she left. The modifications she’d made to the ship she’d stolen from the Fardis would have rendered it almost impossible to track. There was no need for her to act rashly. She’d leapt at the chance to leave Thabeska and in doing so had left something important undone. She didn’t want to make the same mistake again.
The walk back to town was long, and Ahsoka felt exposed the whole way. She watched as more and more Imperial ships landed, cutting off her escape, but she refused to panic. She would make calculated decisions this time, and to do that, she needed information. She didn’t bother going home first, as it was already late afternoon. Instead, she went to Selda’s, where she knew she was most likely to hear something useful.
The cantina was nearly empty when she arrived, as the crews were still making their way back into town after their shift. Ahsoka was going to head for her friends’ usual table in the back but paused when Selda waved her into a seat at the bar. She trusted the older Togruta, knew it the same way she’d known to trust Master Plo, so she sat.
Ahsoka spent most of the early evening perched on one of the barstools. Though this meant her back was to the door, it had its advantages: when you don’t look at people, they assume you can’t hear them. She overheard several conversations about Imperial theories that were not intended for her ears. Selda, from his place behind the bar, kept watch under the guise of his usual work. The system functioned pretty well.
They hadn’t even talked about it, which was the strangest part. Ahsoka had just parked on the stool, Selda had nodded, and they’d begun. It was the sort of thing she might have done with Anakin, though espionage with Anakin Skywalker always ended with explosions, and Ahsoka had no intention of going that far. When two armored troopers and two uniformed officers walked in, she decided it was time to retreat somewhere less conspicuous. She needed only to learn as much as possible about what was going on, not get involved in any messes.
The cantina door opened again, and Kaeden came in, the rest of her crew behind her. It gave Ahsoka the excuse she needed to move. Selda had kept some food hot for the workers and carried it to their usual spot in the back as soon as he saw them enter.
“Hey, Ashla,” Kaeden said quietly as she passed, and Ahsoka fell into step beside her.
“How was your day?” Ahsoka asked as they all sat down around the table.
“Tense,” Vartan said, nodding in the direction of the Imperials. “Lot of new people come to watch.”
“Hoban, get the crokin board,” Neera ordered.
It was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Hoban did as he was told without protest. As he returned with the enormous hexagonal board, Ahsoka saw the cleverness of Neera’s idea: the board was shaped in such a way that the players moved around it. They would have reasons to put their heads together and talk, and it would look like they were only lining up the next shot. Hoban spilled the little round discs onto the board and sorted them by color. They began to play.
“How many new friends did you make today, Kaeden?” Ahsoka asked.
“None,” Kaeden grumbled. “The troopers don’t talk very much, and the officers seem to think we’re beneath them.”
She flicked a disc, and it lodged behind one of the pegs that protruded from the board. Neera huffed. It would be difficult to hit the piece. Hoban lined up a shot.
“They wouldn’t talk to any of the crew leads, either,” Vartan said. “We went to collect payroll and they were there, but whatever they want, it doesn’t involve us at all.”
“Oh,” said Hoban, “it’ll involve us, all right.”
He flicked his disc. It bounced off one of the pegs and settled without hitting Kaeden’s piece first, so he cleared it off the board. Malat lined up her shot and sunk the disc in the center of the board with little visible effort. Her points registered on the scoreboard and the celebratory song played. She fiddled with a wire until the sound cut out.
“I heard them at the fueling station,” Miara said. Her shot missed Kaeden’s piece, too, so she removed her disc. “They were asking about how fast things grow and how much we can plant at a time.”
“Even Imperials have to eat,” Neera said. “Do you think troopers grow on trees?”
A shudder ran down Ahsoka’s spine.
“Are the troopers clones?” she asked, hoping she sounded casual enough. They were being aged out of the Imperial army, she knew, but it had only been a little more than a year, so it was possible that some of the newer ones were still active.
“I don’t think so,” Vartan said. “They didn’t take off their helmets, so I can’t be sure, but I heard them talking among themselves and they all sounded different.”
Ahsoka always thought the clones sounded different, but Yoda said that was because she took the time to really listen to them. Still, if Vartan could tell them apart, that was probably a good sign for her own security. It was her turn, so she lined up a shot, aiming the same way Malat had. It occurred to her that it would be very easy to cheat at crokin if she used the Force, but now was not the time for experimentation.
Her shot went long, skimming over the center of the board and landing on the opponents’ side. Hoban gloated. Now his team had something much easier to aim for. Neera took Ahsoka’s piece with no problem and ricocheted her own piece behind a peg. Now it was up to Kaeden to make the hard shot.
Ahsoka had never played crokin before she arrived on Raada, though everyone claimed it was a very popular game. She found it oddly comforting. It could be played in teams or with just a pair, and the goals were twofold: get your own pieces on the board, but stay aware of your opponent, and knock any of your opponent’s pieces off it. It was a good strategy game, and she thought Obi-Wan would have liked it. He was the more patient of her teachers.
“How long have those Imperials been here?” Vartan asked. He wasn’t playing and instead just sat at their table, looking every bit the indulgent crew lead letting his people relax after a good day’s work.
“They got here just a moment before you did,” Ahsoka said. “They’re still on their first round, and they haven’t spoken to anyone since they gave Selda their order. The stormtroopers haven’t sat down, and the officers just watch.”
“Not exactly subtle,” said Miara. Kaeden had missed her shot, and now Hoban was trying again.
“I don’t think the Empire goes for subtle,” Neera said.
“But why here?” Kaeden said. “I mean, there are better planets for food than Raada. We’re tiny. We don’t produce that much for export.”
There was a very heavy silence. Malat’s long fingers hesitated on her shot, and Ahsoka knew she was thinking of her children. Even though Ahsoka’s concern for her own safety was no longer immediate, she had a bad feeling about this.
“I think it might be smart to start accumulating ration packs,” Ahsoka said. She tried to sound knowledgeable but not expert. She wanted them to listen to her, not follow her orders. “If the Imperials start to dip into the food you grow to eat here, there isn’t going to be a lot you can do to stop them.”
“That’s a good idea,” Vartan said. “I’ll let Selda know.” His eyes flicked past the place where the Imperial officers were sitting. “Later.”
Ahsoka nodded and took her turn at the crokin board. She missed the shot, as well. Neera’s piece was just too well protected behind the peg. They did another full round, Ahsoka’s side trying to dislodge Neera’s piece and Hoban’s team trying to dislodge Kaeden’s. No one had any success, except that it was nice to focus on the frustrations of the game instead of the presence of the Imperials.
Neera was about to take the final shot of the game when there was a disturbance at the front of the cantina. The two officers had been joined by a third, a superior judging by his insignia. The officers stood and saluted. The stormtroopers remained motionless. The new officer leaned forward to confer with his fellows but spoke too quietly for Ahsoka to hear what he said. Then he marched to the doorway and fastened a notice to the wall. He looked around the cantina with some measure of scorn for the occupants before leaving. The other Imperials followed him out without looking back.
Selda walked slowly across the cantina toward the notice. Ahsoka wondered if he would tear it down, but he only read it quietly, his shoulders slumping more with every line.
“The thing about crokin,” said Vartan, taking the last disc from Neera’s grasp, “is that you don’t have to hit the opponent’s piece head-on. You can wing it, if you want, and hope for a good ricochet.”
He lined up the shot and flicked the disc at Kaeden’s. He clipped the edge, and both pieces went flying off the board.
“Sometimes you don’t get it,” he said. “But you still get points.”
Neera’s piece was the only one remaining on the board. Her points showed up on the scoreboard a moment later, once the board realized that all the pieces had been played and the game was over.
“We still win,” Kaeden said. “We have Malat’s points from the beginning.”
“That’s the other thing about crokin,” Vartan added. “You have to remember every piece that’s been played, even the ones removed from the board, because some of them might count against you in the end.”
His words made Ahsoka uncomfortable. She didn’t like the way she automatically began to think about tactics. She got up from the table and went to read the notice board. It was, as she suspected, a list of rules. There was a curfew in place now, which would, among other things, make it nearly impossible for anyone working the late shift to eat out when they were done. They’d have to eat at home. There were rules forbidding group meetings of more than a certain number. The Imperials weren’t closing the cantinas, but they were shortening the hours and restricting the food and alcohol available. With the lost business, it would be only a matter of time before the cantinas closed on their own.
It was everything you’d do to keep the locals from communicating with each other and getting organized. It was everything you’d do to soften them up before the hammer fell. It was everything Ahsoka didn’t think the farmers on Raada would be able to counter. Scenarios ran through her mind, ideas for insurgency and defense. Reluctantly, this time she let them.
She turned away from the notice and made space for the others who wanted to read it. She pushed her way back through the strange and crowded silence to where her friends were sitting, and when she sat down, she relayed what she’d read. She didn’t tell them any of her conclusions about what the new rules meant. They would figure it out, or they wouldn’t, but she would have to be careful to conceal her military experience now. There was no guessing how it might be used against her if the Imperials found out. She had to keep her secrets for as long as she could.
Ahsoka looked at the crokin board, at the single piece that remained despite the efforts of both sides. They’d traded shots, and even Ahsoka’s mistake, which provided an easier target, hadn’t been enough to change the game’s outcome. Neera’s piece hadn’t been enough to make a difference in the end. The game had been settled on the third move, long before any of them was aware of it.
Ahsoka had no idea what points the Empire might have stowed away already, but she knew it was one of the tactics the Imperials used. Order 66 had been part of a very long game, and there was no reason to think that Palpatine had gotten any less foresighted since gaining full power. She was also aware that Raada didn’t have much to fight with, if it came to a fight. No real ships for air support, no heavy artillery. But maybe it wouldn’t go that far. Maybe they would be lucky. Maybe the Empire would take what it wanted and go.
Maybe it would, she thought. But what would it leave behind?