Chapter 17

It is strange -feeling grief, true grief for the first time. Even more so for someone who had viewed death as a part of life for most of their life. It started out as a loss of hearing. The trooper who had given me that dreadful news was still talking, but there was nothing I could do to make myself concentrate on his words. I don't remember dismissing him, or even thanking me for passing on the information. I don't remember starting to walk, or even where I'd been headed. I don't remember bumping into Art, or him deciding to pull me aside and figure out what on the Force's name was wrong.

Nahdar was dead.

I stared into nothingness for a while as Art tried to make me speak, make me react, make me do something other than breathing and staring dumbly into space. He panicked, I think, because his next move was to grab me by the shoulders and shake me like he was trying to get rid of dust on a mantlepiece. This wasn't the right move to make apparently because of course troopers would notice a clone "assaulting" a commander. Art, poor thing, explained as best he could and someone had the brilliant idea to call the General. Something was wrong with the Commander, and no one knew what to do.

They escorted me to the medical bay and had someone look me over. There was nothing physically wrong with me, of course, so they decided to just let me sit on the cot until Master Plo arrived. They didn't have to wait long. Master Plo had sensed something was wrong, and had been on his way even before they decided to call for him.

"General, thank the Maker, I found the Commander like this and I don't-"

"Art, is it?" Interrupted Master Plo.

"Yes, sir. The medics couldn't find anything wrong with her…"

"That's because there is nothing wrong with the Commander," explained the general. "Your loyalty to Commander Foreas is commendable, Art, but rest assured she will be just fine. She is simply grieving."

The words seemed to burn me out of my stupor. As if hearing someone say it made it all the more real. I struggled not to cry in front of everyone present; not only would it have been embarrassing but also disrespectful. Jedi, just like clones, were simply life forms. One was not more precious than the other. If I hadn't cried for all the troopers we had already lost, what right did I have to cry over the life of a single Jedi? Granted, a close friend, but a single Jedi nonetheless. He had been fulfilling his duty, just as the fallen troopers had been.

"I need to pay my respects to Master Fisto." were the first words I felt I could say without breaking down. "I'm sorry I scared all of you, I overreacted."

Art put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

"No you didn't," He said. "I might not be a Jedi, Commander, but I know loss. We all handle it differently."

"Your friend is right, young one." added master Plo before patting my head. "You are allowed to have feelings, but what you must never do is let them consume you."

…

There was a simple memorial in the Jedi Temple for Nahdar. A recently knighted Jedi, a dutiful Padawan, and a treasured friend. There were only six of us. Master Yoda came to pay his respects as he did every time. Master Fisto was mourning the murder of his former Padawan just as I was that of a friend. Master Plo, Ahsoka, and her own master came to pay their respects and to support me. Murdered. Nahdar, the competitive little kid, my dueling partner for years, my close friend. It was hard to let myself feel grief but still power through. It was hard not to resent the war, to resent General Grievous. But Master Fisto had told me: Nahdar had died for his pride, for his fury, for his resentment. It was both a tragedy and a lesson on the mortality of Jedi, on how sometimes, even we were proud and made ourselves to be invincible. We were just life forms like any other, and our sensitivity to the force sometimes made us arrogant when we were no better than anyone else. We were simply different.

We had been taught not to make attachments in order not to let our feelings dictate our actions and lead us to the dark side. But I couldn't bring myself to not feel. It went against who I was, who I am. Emotions are a part of life but one's will and perseverance need to be strong in order to cope with them. To have the ability to reason through them, to know oneself enough to stop one from doing things out of sentiment.

I knew myself enough to realize I needed to meditate on the matter. To allow the Force to guide me through the pain, to let it light the path before me. A path where I could care for others and still remain on the light side of the Force. I sat by the altar Master Fisto had set up and stared into the flames of the candles around. I would need to rely on the Force, it's will, and it's wisdom to get through this war. And it all started here: at the very end.

…

Once again, death was all around me. The beautiful flora that had once decorated this planet was all but destroyed. I had lost so many men- so many. But we had orders, we had to take this position and hold it. I couldn't remember the name of the planet, or why the CIS had decided to invade such a remote system. All there was there and then was the will to survive and keep as many troops from dying as possible. We were outnumbered, but that was often the case and thus something the Pack and I had come to expect. Air support was busy with their own battle in the upper atmosphere, and Master Plo had taken a different squadron to outflank our enemy in the northern hemisphere. We were making good progress, pushing the enemy back with everything we had and outmaneuvering them at every turn. It was gruelling, relentless and it was almost an entire rotation of hard fighting before the enemy retreated. We didn't pursue it. Many troopers wanted to, but Commander Wollffe -who was put in charge of this battalion with me- and I thought it best to let the men rest and recoup before pressing the attack. We hadn't had too many casualties, but still the names on the data pad before me engraved themselves in my soul as I ate my rations.

Around me, Wolffe, Art, and Twitch all busied themselves. Wolffe was going over the holo maps of the area for the fifth time in an hour, and Art was tattooing Twitch's neck. The design looked like a flower they'd found in the area, and the fact that Twitch decided to remember the battles he'd fought by engraving them on his skin gave me an idea.

"Het, Art?" I asked as he put the finishing touches on the beautiful design. "Can you give me a few tattoos when we finish the mission?"

"I never pinned you like the type, Commander, but sure. I can start now if you'd like." He smiled.

"Oh, I don't want to tire you out even more th-"

"Keeping myself busy helps one not think, Commander."

I said nothing and simply nodded. I knew the feeling. Art took his laser gun and approached me as I started taking off the armour on my left arm. When he asked for the design, I simply gave him my data pad. The list I had been reading had the names of all the members of the Wolf Pack who had died in action since the incident with the Malevolence. It was a long list, and it would take several sessions to tackle.

"Commander…" He started when he realized just what he was looking at. He seemed to rethink what he was going to say and sucked a breath in before straightening up. "This will take a while."

"Then you better survive this, trooper. I wouldn't want to lose my tattoo artist, now would I?"

Both Wolffe and Twitch watched us silently, never asking a question, never saying what they thought on the matter. And I appreciated it. It wasn't nightfall yet, in fact it wasn't even dusk, so we still had time. None of us had guard duty that night, so for the next four hours we kept eachother company. We talked, and joked and planned all while Art continued to engrave the memory of lives lost onto my skin until it was time to turn in for the night.

…

"Come on, Boys! Let's show these tin cans who's boss around here!" Yelled Twitch beside me as we pushed the enemy back on the battlefield.

We had decided to ambush their position before they could make the first move. We had decided on a pincer maneuver, surrounding the enemy and pressing the attack on three different flanks. Wolffe suggested we have snipers positioned in the trees and dividing our troops into small, flexible teams to ensure maximum effectiveness. My knowledge of strategy was quite limited, but I trusted him to make the right choices for our sake and that of the mission.

The plan was working, and we had the upper hand. That is until the enemy started to get desperate.

"INCOMING!"

To my right an explosion went off where the enemy had pointed their tanks. But it wasn't the same kind that went off when plasma was fired, no. They were firing incendiary charges, which did more damage to the area around the target.

"Lay cover fire! Team alpha," I yelled before tapping the top of my head twice. "On me, we are taking out those tanks!"

The order must have been relayed over the comms, because the entire force started to move at once, pressing the attack and laying cover fire for our team to get to the tanks. It was a six man team and there were two three tanks. Headfirst and I took the center one while the others went for the ones on either flank. It felt rehearsed, really, how even without talking we still knew what to do. I worked as a shield for the both of us as we made the desperate sprint for the tanks. The blaster fire clashing with my saber, and Headfirst own blaster going off deafened me as we ran. I cleared a path for us, cutting down droid after droid and using the Force to push away those I couldn't.

"Headfirst, get up there, I'll cover you!" I said without looking.

Even when our troops had the clear advantage in the battle, it still felt like chaos. My senses were overloaded with stimuli, the Force was disturbed around the entire battlefield, the Troopers' stress, fear and fight for survival felt like my own. And then, I felt it. Headfirst's desperation and rising panic. I turned to see what happened as I deflected more blaster fire. His armour had got stuck on a broken piece of the tank's hull, and he didn't have a grenade in his hand. He had set the charge and thrown it into a tank full of incendiary charges and he couldn't get away.

My body moved before I even got to think about it. I jumped onto the tank and cut the piece of metal holding him down with my saber. I knew what was about to happen, so I grabbed him by the waist and turned from the tank before jumping. I didn't even get to use the force to get us further, the blast from the explosion did it for me, burning the entire back of my armour in the process. I felt something dripping down the side of my face and down my chin as I lay there, motionless, and face down on top of white and gray armour. My ears were ringing and my right shoulder blade felt as if it had been on fire. Underneath me, Headfirst was still breathing, and the Force around him was still very much there, which gave me the tiniest bit of comfort. My vision was quite blurred, but I could still see white bodies moving around us and shielding us from enemy fire as they continued to chase the enemy out of their positions.

Someone got me off Headfirst and onto the ground beside me, attempting to get me to sit so I wouldn't put pressure on my back.

"Medic," I said to the trooper checking on Headfirst. "Report."

The man who was at my back continued to clean what I deduced was some sort of burn.

"He's got a concussion, but it's not serious. One rib and a few fingers broken, Ma'am. He'll be just fine."