Younglings across the galaxy know their names, know everything
about them, follow their exploits as though they are sports
heroes instead of warriors in a desperate battle to save civilization.
Even grown-ups are not immune; it's not uncommon for an
exasperated parent to ask, when faced with offspring who have
just tried to pull off one of the spectacularly dangerous bits of
foolishness that are the stock-in-trade of high-spirited younglings
everywhere, So which were you supposed to be, Kenobi or Skywalker?
Kenobi would rather talk than fight, but when there is fighting
to be done, few can match him. Skywalker is the master of audacity;
his intensity, boldness, and sheer jaw-dropping luck are the perfect
complement to Kenobi's deliberate, balanced steadiness. Together,
they are a Jedi hammer that has crushed Separatist infestations on
scores of worlds.
All the younglings watching the battle in Coruscant's sky
know it: when Anakin and Obi-Wan get there, those dirty Seppers
are going to wish they'd stayed in bed today.
The adults know better, of course. That's part of what being a
grown-up is: understanding that heroes are created by the HoloNet,
and that the real-life Kenobi and Skywalker are only human beings,
after all.
Even if they really are everything the legends say they are,
who's to say they'll show up in time? Who knows where they are
right now? They might be trapped on some Separatist backwater.
They might be captured, or wounded. Even dead.
Some of the adults even whisper to themselves, They might
have fallen.
Because the stories are out there. Not on the HoloNet, of
courseââ¬âthe HoloNet news is under the control of the Office of the
Supreme Chancellor, and not even Palpatine's renowned candor
would allow tales like these to be toldââ¬âbut people hear whispers.
Whispers of names that the Jedi would like to pretend never
existed.
Sora Bulq. Depa Billaba. Jedi who have fallen to the dark. Who
have joined the Separatists, or worse: who have massacred
civilians, or even murdered their comrades. The adults have a
sickening suspicion that Jedi cannot be trusted. Not anymore. That
even the greatest of them can suddenly just... snap.
The adults know that legendary heroes are merely legends, and
not heroes at all.
These adults can take no comfort from their younglings. Palpatine
is captured. Grievous will escape. The Republic will fall. No
mere human beings can turn this tide. No mere human beings
would even try. Not even Kenobi and Skywalker.
And so it is that these adults across the galaxy watch the
HoloNet with ashes where their hearts should be.
Ashes because they can't see two prismatic bursts of realspace
reversion, far out beyond the planet's gravity well; because they
can't see a pair of starfighters crisply jettison hyperdrive rings and
streak into the storm of Separatist vulture fighters with all guns
blazing.
A pair of starfighters. Jedi starfighters. Only two.
Two is enough.
Two is enough because the adults are wrong, and their
younglings are right.
Though this is the end of the age of heroes, it has saved its best
for last.
