CHRISTOPHSIS FRACTURED LIKE the crystalline buildings that composed most of its architecture, blue-green fragments now littering the cobbled streets. Among them were scattered flesh-toned droid arms, legs, and servomotors, which still whirred with the expectation of commands unachievable. Also present, just as lifeless and clad in overwhelming whites with streaks of navy and yellow-orange, were the bodies of clones.
Rex couldn't look at them. Not only because the HUD functions in his T-visor identified them as rubble and blurred them in his periphery to enhance his focus, but because he just couldn't. This felt like a battle they couldn't win, which meant the deaths of his brothers would never be more than tallies on a mission report, and tallies on Jaal's blue pauldron.
Droids numbered in thousands as they surged through the ruined city, spewing superheated scarlet volleys towards them. Three-legged, sphere-headed spider droids rotated in even three-count rhythms, firing from each of their turrets in short bursts. Rex dove to the side to avoid the onslaught, and the ground was instantly scorched and scarred by the shrieking hyphen of gas.
He dropped into a roll and popped back up just in time to see a darkened silhouette land atop the spider droid's carapace. A pillar of sky-blue illuminated in the figure's hand. It was driven straight into the droid's head. Rex could imagine the sound of it even with his soundproofed helmet.
The figure leapt forward as the droid stalled, staggered, and then crumpled to the ground with a dying whir, catching a few unfortunate battle droids who didn't have self-preservation in their programming. Rex continued to fire out of his twin blaster pistols, tracking the arc of his dark-robed savior until they landed at his side.
The cerulean saber flicked every which way, deflecting a barrage of blasterfire, and in those flashes of light, Rex's HUD systems identified the man's face — rather unnecessarily, he thought — as Anakin Skywalker's.
"Thanks, general," Rex said. One hand was clenched around his pistol and its trigger, blowing the heads off of a few advancing droids as the other reloaded its twin blaster, more on reflex than anything.
He thought he saw Anakin grin out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't look to check. His attention swung back to the virtual tidal waves of B-1 battle droids approaching them, their less humanoid, durasteel-plated counterparts mingled within them. He saw them, blue squares locking onto their figures to identify their firing arm raising perpendicular to their pod-shaped torsos. More spider droids loomed in the horizon, rotating and firing still. Heavy cannon fire shook the ground from behind Rex, knocking out five to ten droids with each rattling round.
But it wouldn't be enough. They were going to lose. And Rex didn't like thinking that; in fact, he preferred to devote all his focus to his own role — protecting his men and killing clankers. Let the Jedi, let the tacticians worry about the outcome. All he needed to do was shoot, and shoot to kill. But this time, this time… death hung over his head like a noose, and he wasn't sure why.
As if he caught Rex's thought, Anakin turned to him and nodded. Keep going.
Then he lunged forward, blade held low and to his side. Rex lifted his hand and spoke through the shared clone comm, calling them to form a V-shape around Anakin and watch his back, as they'd sworn to do.
While dashing towards him and Skywalker, one of his men caught a spider-droid bolt to the neck, and Rex couldn't turn away fast enough to keep himself from registering how the clone's head separated from his shoulders and rolled along the rubble. He heard the dead man's commlink short out, and clenched his jaw tight. Keep going. Just keep going.
Anakin cleaved three droids in half with one swipe, his black-gloved hand flinging out to send another droid squadron flying into the air. Rex had seen the Force in action more times than he could count over the month since the war started, but he had yet to clamp down on the sense of awe that followed such a sight.
Rex took his chance, as did his men, opening fire on the disoriented droids. Anakin carved a swath of blue and black through the droids, his skin quickly becoming stained with almost-black droid oil that spewed from every cut if it wasn't deep enough to cauterize.
Rex pistol-whipped a droid that got too close. One clone tackled a grenade that flew their way, and the following explosion made static roll through the commline. Just keep going, just keep going.
He suppressed a grimace and swung his pistols to face the droids that had thrown the 'nade, only to be greeted by silence.
The droids had come to a complete standstill, and Anakin stood in the middle of them, glancing around in confusion. The drumbeat of their footsteps had gone dead silent, leaving only a faint ringing in Rex's ears and the suddenly all-too-loud sound of his own breathing.
Alive still.
Anakin seemed to snap out of a trance, glancing around at his enemies as if he was seeing them for the first time. Rex often wondered where Skywalker's mind went when he was fighting, how he managed to maintain a razor-sharp focus even in the center of all this brutality that seemed the antithesis to the Jedi way.
While the droids were completely still, Anakin cut a path back to his men, leaving bisected plasteel skeletons behind him. Rex holstered his blasters and heard his troopers speak over the comm — sighs and groans of relief, a few witty jokes, and several grunts of pain that indicated wounds that adrenaline could no longer numb.
The droids, after that strange pall of silence, did an about-face and turned to retreat. For a moment, Rex was tempted to fire on them and try to take a few more out, but he had injured men to take care of. And they came first.
Anakin seemed to be facing the same dilemma, but his own musings were cut mercifully short by the sound of a Republic shuttle soaring overhead, its roaring engines like music as it descended and then hung a sharp left towards their well-guarded encampments. Cheers erupted from the clones as the ship's shadow passed over them. As Rex followed its path with his eyes, he could feel the invisible noose dissipating, untying and collapsing into a coil of nothingness.
"That's more like it," Rex breathed.
Kenobi and Cody approached from the leftmost front, looking unharmed. Kenobi wiped some grease off of his gloves and nodded to Anakin, who finally disengaged his saber and clipped it to his belt.
"They're pulling back, Master," Anakin said, tilting his head towards the retreating droid forces. "Looks like the reinforcements have made them see sense." Then, he turned to Rex. "Come on. Let's give them a proper welcome."
Rex's helmet beeped as he ran scans on the nearby area, rapping on the side of his helmet. "Where's the cruiser? I'm not picking up anything within landing range."
"It'll be here," reassured Kenobi, his blue eyes alight. He didn't seem particularly daunted by the grueling battle, but at this point, Rex and Cody were used to seeing their commanding generals looking like that after a fight. The clones followed him as they ran back to their camp, where a makeshift landing area had been set up. "Time for reinforcements, supplies, and perhaps my new Padawan."
Rex glanced at Anakin, though he wasn't sure why he'd done it. For a moment, Skywalker looked disappointed and concerned, grimly so, but he tried to lessen it by unfurrowing his brow. "This isn't the time or the place to train a Padawan learner, Master. They're a liability."
Though it wasn't his place to say, Rex agreed.
"Oh, I don't know," Kenobi said, still setting a brisk pace. "You weren't. Most of the time, anyway…"
"Most?"
Kenobi ignored Anakin's inquisition with a rueful smile. "If it makes you feel better, I believe my new pupil's already had some experience in the war."
"Well, how is that…" Anakin trailed off, his expression softening. It was an unfamiliar expression for him, and while Rex's HUD systems were inept at identifying emotions, he knew what dejection looked like. "Oh."
Rex was sure he'd find out why his general's reaction was so dampened. He thought experience would be a good thing, at least in Anakin's mind.
The gunship touched down in the space between their cannon armaments, kicking up dust in a swirl as its whining, whistling engines powered down. The ramp descended smoothly, and Rex's heart dared to swell slightly at the thought of new rations, new troopers, and crates packed to the brim with blaster rifles, rocket launchers and ion grenades. He'd even heard a rumor of an augmented clone squadron that was going to come down and finish up work with them.
Steam billowed as the shuttle decompressed, and two figures emerged from it, both of them slight and unarmored. And Rex didn't need to be a Jedi to feel the disappointment that rippled from Anakin and a few of his men.
Two teenagers stepped onto the ground of Christophsis. One was an orange-skinned Togruta girl, clad in a maroon top with matching leather rings around her upper arms, white tights and a red skirt, pair of gauntlets, and boots. She had white and blue lekku and a headdress of sorts that seemed to be made of animal teeth. Her eyes were a bright blue, and her shoulders were drawn back as she puffed her chest out slightly. Rex knew how she felt — new, underestimated, and young. Stars, he still was young.
The second one, also female, looked somewhat older. She was human, with coppery skin, and short, wavy black hair that stopped just above her shoulders. She was dressed modestly, with a cream-colored tunic with wide sleeves that stopped above her elbows, leading down to ridged leather sleeves and brown gloves. She had a wide sash belt and dark brown trousers, with steel-tipped boots of the same color. There was a quiet confidence about her, and something in her dark eyes that Rex couldn't quite identify, helmet HUD or not.
Sabers hung on both of their hips, the Togruta's a muted silver and the human's a gleaming bronze. Jedi younglings?
"Oh, kriff," the human girl said suddenly, before spinning on her heel and darting back into the ship.
Her sudden movement seemed to rouse Kenobi from his daze. "Did they only send the two of you? Where's the ship? Where's Hunter?"
The Togruta seemed irritated that her compatriot had ditched her without warning, but she managed to speak calmly, uninflected. "Master Yoda was worried that you hadn't reported in, and he couldn't reach you, so he sent us with a message."
"Sent you?" Kenobi inquired. "So where's the cruiser? Where are our reinforcements? Our support?"
"The ship dropped us off," the Togruta explained, as if this all made perfect sense. "Master Yoda wants you to return to the Temple right away. There's an emergency."
Anakin opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by three crates that slid noisily down the ramp and stopped at his feet. All of them were cube-shaped, and quickly followed by a large rectangular one that Rex recognized as an arms container.
The girl reemerged, her arms laden with coils of grappling wire. Anakin and Kenobi turned to look at her, and she dropped them unceremoniously. "Hi again."
"Hi," Anakin said, unamused. "Is that all you have?"
The human girl frowned slightly, before making a show of checking her pants pockets. "I guess my pocket clone battalion fell out on the way to the shuttle." She turned back to him, her expression now matching his. "Were you expecting more?"
Anakin's eye twitched, and he turned back to the Togruta. "Are you telling me that they never got our signals for help?"
"I don't think they did. Maybe we can relay a message through the cruiser that brought us," the Togruta suggested.
"And who are you two?"
"I'm Ahsoka Tano," the Togruta said, a hand on her chest.
"Krie Ortis," the Human added.
"You…" Anakin looked between the two of them, then at Kenobi. "Well, which one's the Padawan?"
"We're both Padawans," Ahsoka said indignantly, as if Anakin had just insulted her. "Krie is Master Kenobi's student, and I'm yours, Master Skywalker."
Kenobi smiled faintly, glancing at the young women. Anakin blinked. "What?"
"You didn't know," Krie surmised, stepping off the ramp. She stooped low and picked up the grappling wire, wrapping it in loose loops with a faraway expression.
Kenobi was still wearing that smug grin of his. Anakin knew better than to make a show of his irritation, especially with his men present. He glanced at Ahsoka again as Krie made her way over to Obi-Wan. "No, I didn't."
"Well, it doesn't matter now," Kenobi said, putting an end to the issue. "Let's see if we can open a comm signal with Admiral Yularen and Master Yoda."
Anakin stifled a grumble and acquiesced. Ahsoka took that as permission to approach, stopping at his side. She glanced over at Krie, but the older Padawan was focused on the distant horizon, where the Separatist forces were still retreating, little more than specks on the horizon. She seemed relieved that she didn't have to fight yet.
Krie knelt down as Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex meandered over to the command table, where a blue-and-white astromech chirped a greeting. Krie popped open one of the supply crates and parsed through the ration packs, bacta patches, and steel-encased stim injectors, counting to herself.
Obi-Wan stepped over to her, a question unasked. She answered. "You guys have been here for a week now, and the supply manifesto said you only had enough for a few days at most. I figured I would bring what I could without stealing a cargo loader or wasting too much time."
"That's not what I was going to ask, Padawan," Kenobi said. "Though I do appreciate your initiative."
Krie paused in her movements and turned to look up at him, her dark brown irises flashing in the afternoon light. "You were going to ask about Master Ur-Sema Du."
The older Jedi dipped his head. "Master Yoda said you took her passing with grace. As I remember it… it's easy to put on a brave face for others, but far more difficult when you're on your own."
"Then it's fortunate that I'll be by your side for these coming years," she said, closing the crate with a dull click. She got to her feet and brushed off her trousers, before meeting his eyes with a good-natured smile. "I appreciate your habit of collecting strays."
Kenobi rubbed the lower half of his face, his beard stained with droid oil. "I understand how you feel right now, young one. It will pass."
"It has passed," she responded mildly. She flicked her hand, and all four crates lifted into the air and floated themselves towards the supply tent. "We have bigger problems to worry about."
"Indeed we do."
Kenobi watched her as she guided the crates to their destination, before lowering them. He expected her expression to be stone-chiseled, like she was forcing it into composure, but it wasn't. She seemed, by all standards, to be fine, the epitome of Jedi coolness with a. Even her presence in the Force was calm, lighthearted, a sunlit ocean devoid of ripples.
It was strange, because she should've been more guarded, more hostile and perhaps even Darkened. Kenobi remembered feeling that way after his Master's end at the hands of Maul, even with the heady, gratifying rush he'd felt once he'd avenged Qui-Gon. He'd since purified himself and released those feelings.
Krie, according to the Council, had been tight-lipped about what happened to her Master down in the Geonosian catacombs. She'd been the only person to make it out of those underground passages, and yet her humor seemed more than intact. Survivor's guilt had crippled just about every other Padawan who made it back from Geonosis. Not Krie.
He'd heard a great many things about her, from Windu, from Fisto, from Gallia — she was a capable Knight by all standards, almost always in the top five of her classes and Initiate Clan, skilled at utilizing Niman and the Force in notoriously off-handed ways. Despite that, she was rarely ever caught studying or reviewing her katas: she'd faced multiple lectures for sneaking out to the Senate Rotunda to watch dignitaries and luminaries debate, earning a sort of apprehensiveness from Windu regarding her promotion to Padawanship. The last Jedi who was so engrossed in the world of politics was spearheading the Separatist Confederacy, and a Sith Lord. He worried that Krie would share the same fate, that the Shatterpoint that converged on her presence would be stained with darkness.
But Yoda thought quite differently. Many Padawans were awaiting Masters in light of this war, many of them were older than Krie, objectively better than her, and more capable warriors, which was exactly what the Republic needed in a time of conflict. Of them, Krie was chosen.
The Grandmaster had assigned her to Obi-Wan, claiming that the Force heralded a grand future for her. When Kenobi had asked for specifics, he'd guarded the information and clutched his cane, saying only this:
Under your guidance, end this war, she may. In her, I sense the future of the Republic, if teach her as well as you did Skywalker, you do.
And Obi-Wan hoped he could do that. Because he could already tell that this war would eviscerate the galaxy in more ways than one. And if his Padawans, both current and former, were capable of achieving their destinies…
…then he would've achieved everything Qui-Gon wanted from him. And then some.
A/N: Talk about being late to the Clone Wars party. Oh well... I hope you enjoy reading Krie's tale as much as I enjoy writing it. Please leave a review!