I had never felt such fear. The suffocating sensation of having the weight of an entire ocean on my chest, pushing me down, swallowing me into the darkness that was true terror. I had never been so afraid. I had experienced grief before, had thrown myself in danger's way to protect those I held dear, and had faced the enemy time and time again. I had spent the last two years trying to keep the war from breaking me, but now, as I sped through Khorm airspace, dodging fighters and shooting down droids, I could feel it finally taking hold on my soul. The comm had come in from the lieutenant on the surface, Commander Wolffe's squadron had spotted the CIS's assassin Asajj Ventress, and they were in pursuit.
No amount of frantic yelling could get through to him, a storm was jamming communications and command had lost track of them. It wasn't that I doubted the clone's ability to face her, on the contrary, I often forgot that it wasn't normal for any sentient species to be able to keep up with a Jedi's training. What worried me was the fact that not even Master Kenobi and Master Skywalker had been able to either capture her or kill her. Asajj might have not been a Sith, but she was a damned good assassin, and a force sensitive one at that.
It didn't take too much arguing to get their last known coordinates. Admiral Zapal decided it was a good idea to question me at some point. He didn't get the chance to say much after I promptly informed him that he would be in charge of the assault from then on. The phrase "Jedi business" always worked wonders for situations like that. Of course I would pay for my improper use of power sometime later, but right then, I had friends to save, and hopefully, asassins to capture.
Landing was not easy, all sensors were down, and so were the scanners. I had to trust my gut and the Force to be able to navigate in such a snowstorm. But if landing was hard, it was nothing compared to what greeted me on the planet's surface. I felt two life forms ahead of me, not too far. It wasn't a good sign, Wolffe's squad had at least twenty men. As I made my way towards the two life forms, I started coming by small piles of snow in my path. Only it wasn't snow, it was dead clone troopers whose bodies were starting to be covered by the storm. If I hadn't been on a planet that was already frozen over, I would probably have attributed the cold in my veins to the absolute emptiness in the Force where life had once been.
When I finally made it to where I felt the two life forms, I saw her. Asajj Ventress stood over the kneeling body of a man, who held one of his brothers to him, cradling his head. She was boasting, calling the clones "Jedi lapdogs" and basking on what she presumed was a clean victory. She brought one of her red lightsabers up above her head and then swung. Before the blade could meet the neck of the trooper, I intercepted it with my own. Ventress hadn't felt my approach, and my sudden presence there made her take a leap back.
I took the opportunity and looked back at the trooper, and what I saw froze both my body and my soul. It was Sketcher, and in his arms was his brother and Commander, Wolffe. Wolffe, who's right eye had been cut off and had been bleeding so profusely he was most likely dead already.
It took all my strength not to charge at the assassin right then and there. It took all my training to not allow myself to be consumed in darkness, to punish her for what she had done, to kill her for daring to touch my friends, to avenge Wolffe's death. Yes, I wanted to give in, I wanted to kill her, to hurt her, to maim her, to make her suffer for what she had done.
But right there and then -underneath the overwhelming urge to kill, kill, KILL- Sketcher's force signature did not change. He had been afraid when I had arrived, but he was terrified as he looked up at me through the visor of his helmet. It wasn't Ventress who was causing that. It was like a slap to the face, a bucket full of freezing cold water over the head.
I was scaring him.
I tried my best to get a hold of myself, to bring my anger and grief under control. I then took the vibroblade Wolffe had given me and threw it at his knees.
"If you see me fall, don't look back, Sketcher." I said before I turned to face the woman that had caused all that death, all that destruction. The woman who had taken him from me.
"That is a cute gesture, Padawan. But none of you are leaving this planet alive." She said, her posture relaxed, unguarded, arrogant. "You see, even if that lap dog of yours can't feel the Force, I can. You are not as good a Jedi as you might think. Embrace the darkness, kid. Pain and suffering are the only reliable sources of strength."
"I realize we have never been introduced, Ventress. I am Kriari Foreas, Plo Koon and Obi-wan Kenobi's Padawan," Ventress smiled at the mention of Obi-Wan, like someone who had fond memories associated with the name. "and while yes, pain and suffering are strong motivators, there is much more power in healing trauma than there is in holding onto it." I answered.
We started circling each other like two predators on the hunt, sizing each other up, trying to determine what kind of a battle this would be.
"You should follow your own advice, kid, the force is quite dark around you." She mocked.
"Oh yes, I'm sure it is. But since you are still alive and in possession of all your extremities, I would call that a win." I countered, struggling to keep my face straight and my head clear.
Come on, Kriari, you didn't spend your entire life training to be a Jedi only to allow this asshole to get to you know. Pull your shit together.
"If I wasn't about to kill you right now, I'd think you are flirting with me, Padawan." She teased.
"If you hadn't killed one of the people I care for the most, I probably would be."
But banter was only superficial, and as much as she seemed to enjoy it, she must have realized, just as I did, that there were no more words to be said. The only thing left to do was fight and put an end to whatever that was. Oh, and fight I did, to the best of my abilities. I fought like I never had before with calm only found in motion and the skill of a lifetime of training. I fought with the Force, it was the only reason I lived that day, because if I had succumbed to the darkness, Ventress would have won. And she wouldn't have had to kill me to do it.
…
Art was not going to lie and say he wasn't terrified. He wasn't ashamed of it, because fear meant he was not stupid, fear was a survival mechanism to all sentient beings, it should always be respected. He had trained the whole eleven years he had been alive, he was one of the most powerful, efficient and intelligent soldiers in the galaxy right after the Jedi and so was every single one of his brothers. But Art was terrified.
Kriari had engaged Asajj Ventress on her own.
Kriari, the wiry seventeen year old he had first met on Geonosis who decided their lives were more important than Master Mundi's esteem, the fearless leader who had put their lives ahead of the mission, the friend who had tattooed every single clone trooper she had lost on her skin. Kriari, his closest friend and most trusted ally, had engaged one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy on her own.
He didn't doubt Kriari's skill as a Jedi, in fact he was of the opinion that she had been holding back the entire time he had known her. Kriari was the eye of the storm in a battlefield. She was calm, collected and made quick decisions with ease. Even if she did bottle everything up and let it out in the safety of the barracks, Kriari was the most reliable person to have by your side on the battlefield. He had never seen her lose her cool, he had never seen her truly panic in the face of danger or death, she had always been strong and determined.
But this time, it was different.
This time, Wolffe was dying.
Art wasn't blind, he knew they had a special bond. Wolffe had always been a stoic, sarcastic bastard, but he had developed a soft spot for Kriari the second they met. Kriari's insistence in protecting the clones at the expense of her safety had only reinforced Wolffe's protectiveness over her. He had noticed.
It hadn't taken Kriari too long to develop a connection to him either. She had always needed someone to ground her when things got hard, and there was no one in the galaxy who was more grounded than his brother. They were quite different in a lot of ways, but they were both skilled, stubborn and willing to do anything for the people they cared for. If Art hadn't known about the Jedi code, if he hadn't been Kriari's closest confidante, he would have thought they were together. They were a fearsome sight when they were on the same side of a conflict.
And now, Kriari had lost the one person who could help regulate her emotions, the one person who anchored her to the here and now. Kriari had lost one of the people she felt safest with, and Asajj Ventress had been to blame. She had taken his friend's pillars and was going to feel the ceiling of Kriari's composure come crashing down on her.
Art wasn't stupid enough to believe Kriari wasn't capable of murder. The only thing his Commander valued more than her life as a Jedi was her attachments, as controversial as it was. She didn't need to say it, he had realized long ago that the second the Jedi Order did something to jeopardize the safety of the people she loved, she would burn the entire place to the ground. He didn't think her Masters realized just how protective of them all she was. Art didn't think they knew her as deeply as they thought they did. If they had, they would have reassigned her long ago.
Kriari Foreas was dangerous, and Art was scared. He wasn't scared of her, he was scared for her. He knew that if his friend decided to take the path to the Dark Side, she would regret her decision every second of the rest of her life. Art knew Kriari was capable of murder, but he also knew she was not a murderer.
Admiral Zapal had been going ballistic over the comms, talking of insubordination and reckless action and threatening us all with court martial. But not one member of the Pack seemed to care. Yes, good soldiers followed orders, but the best soldiers left no one behind. And if the Wolfe Pack was anything, it was the best. Commander Foreas had fought and sweated and bled for and with them, they were not about to abandon her.
So he did the only thing he could do: he organized all the troops they had on the surface and set off to look for their missing Commander. Only two teams remained with the med tent, where the medics tried to keep Wolffe alive in every way they could think of. He left Twitch in charge, and disappeared through the storm alongside his brothers without looking back.