Uncertainty

Companion piece to Boredom and Invigorating.

There is no emotion; there is peace.

But there was no peace in this galaxy. Not anymore.

The Force shrieked its warning just as the first missiles cut through the night sky.

Torn from meditation, Garett's eyes flew open as the ground beneath his bunk heaved and the air shivered. Then...

Screams: sirens and men's voices alike.

He was on his feet and out his plastent before the first shockwaves had subsided; his lightsaber in his hand, though he couldn't remember picking it up.

Outside, the night was on fire; the stars replaced by enemy dreadnoughts and swarms of vulture droids, flitting like ghosts over the pale faces of the twin moons. And marching towards the Republic's camp in neat rows: battle droids by the score.

The wait was over; the Separatist army had finally come.

He didn't pause; didn't hesitate. Garett gathered the Force to him even as he ran. It came like a river of molten starlight, twining through his muscles and bones; filling his blood to bursting. It was life, like the blessed drink given to a parched man. From one step to the next, Garett bunched his legs and leaped...and with his lightsaber ignited, landed amidst the first line of battle droids.

The green blade was nothing but a blur as he slashed and ducked, wove and thrust, cutting down droid after droid.

There is no emotion.

Garett was not aware of feeling. He was not even thinking at this point. His body carried him through the enemy lines on reflex and instinct; he'd given himself over completely to the Force. He cut an SBD in half, Force-pushed four droidekas into a squad of B1s, scattering them as if in a game of rumble-pins. Three more droids fell at his feet, decapitated.

There is peace.

He was a whirlwind of deadly motion.

Not until a very Human cry sounded from his left did Garett become aware of the others fighting at his side. The clone troopers had rallied around their general, a white-armored sea crested by the beige of his robes and the green of his lightsaber. There was nothing left in these men to suggest they'd been sleeping, joking or eating just minutes before.

The Force burst with their intent into a fiery flare: Fight...Kill...Survive.

The wounded trooper was to his left.

Garett fought his way to his side; found the man kneeling in the dirt, trying to defend himself from the oncoming droids even as blood rushed from the open wound in his thigh. Garett grasped the droids in the Force, lifting them off the ground. The B1s struggled, an automated function that was utterly useless against the invisible fingers clutching at them. He squeezed his fist shut and crushed the droids, then flung their remains into the Sep lines, buying himself and the wounded trooper some precious minutes.

The trooper didn't even seem to realize he'd been rescued. He kept firing, yelling wordlessly in mounting grief and anger. Beside him, Garett now saw, was another white-armored figure. This one wasn't moving - and missing most of his head.

Deflecting bolt after bolt, Garett grabbed the injured trooper around the waist, trying to pull him to safety. The trooper turned on his general, a vibroblade ejecting from his gauntlet.

"Cease!" It was all Garett could do to make himself heard over the shrieking of distant engines and the clamor of whining blasters. The trooper froze and began to sway, his Deece dropping from suddenly numb fingers.

Garett caught him as he fainted and then there were other hands at his side, trying to tug the injured man away from him.

"General! We've got him!"

In the light of flickering fires and muzzle flashes, he could make out the red medic's insignia on the sergeant's helmet.

Hot lube oil against his skin; a thin cut burned where a piece of shrapnel had sliced his cheek. Now that he had ceased moving, these things filtered into his consciousness. And more.

The river of the Force no longer just flowed. It burned.

Droids felt nothing, but the men they killed did. Fear and hate gushed as freely as the plasma fire - into his veins.

There were more screams, more men down and Garett staggered back to his feet - back to the fighting - leaving the medics to their duty. His lightsaber was still in his hand and the Jedi drove it hilt-deep into the nearest battle droid - burning through its artificial veins.

The Force boiled through his blood, but he continued drawing on it, needing its strength. The droids kept coming and he kept cutting them down. But he no longer gave himself over to the currents of the Force. His stance was no longer secure in that surging rush of energy; he feared drowning.

Vultures dove down, their blaster cannons shredding earth and flesh alike. Garett swivelled on his heel, pulling two of his men out of the line of fire with a twist of his mind. Touching their Force-presences...it was like sticking his hand into the depths of a volcano. They hated the droids; feared them and yet found exhilaration in the raging storm they'd become a part of.

What he was a part of.

Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering.

"General! Get down!" An armored figure suddenly barrelled into him, slamming Garett to the ground and knocking the breath out of him. Ozone seared his lungs and a keening, hot wind tore at his exposed skin as a flaming vulture fell from the sky, tearing up the ground with its broken wings where his feet had been just a second before. As a last act of defiance, the downed vulture droid exploded, sending Jedi and trooper tumbling over the broken ground. Garett once more gathered the Force around him, trying to cushion their mad roll even as the trooper curled himself protectively around his general. Stones dug into his ribs, his back and then the weight of the trooper was suddenly gone.

Garett tried to clear his head, but his vision spun and all he saw was a pair of white-clad legs standing over him and a dark, T-shaped visor illuminated intermittently by blue and red plasma.

He rolled clear of the trooper and onto his feet, taking a stance next to his saviour - It was Commander Gaff.

Igniting his lightsaber once more, the Jedi stepped to the commander's side, deflecting the incoming fire back at the advancing droids as Gaff worked to cover his flanks.

The commander did not swear as he fought, but his Force-aura was a quivering field of stars and the dark side pulsed in the empty spaces in-between those courageous darts of light.

Beware the dark side, Jedi.

But how to be beware of something that was all around - even within the men he trusted with his life?

When infused with uncertainty, seek out firmer ground.

There was no peace, but there were emotions. And there was a war to fight.

Garett called the Force to him - a churning cauldron of light and dark; water and fire - and once more lead his screaming, bleeding men into a thrust for the enemy's mechanical heart.