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“Huh.”
Plo Koon glances over at the Jedi who they found collapsed on their battlefield two planets ago, then looks back out across the planet they are about to land on. There are droids as far as the eye can see, being held off by the contingent of the 104th that landed before then to give their transport enough time to get planetside.
“It is a terrible sight,” Plo agrees. He thinks he will never truly be comfortable with the sight of war, but he is more used to it than he would like to be.
“Yeah,” the Jedi agrees, though he sounds a bit dubious. He squints out the window. “Can’t you just, you know....” He closes his fist illustratively, though Plo is not quite sure what he’s illustrating.
But whatever he is trying to show is probably as good a fighting mechanism as any other, especially given that he’s survived as a Jedi alone this long into the war, so Plo Koon says, agreeably, “Many of us have different tactics.”
“Right,” the Jedi says. “Not that I’m not decent with a lightsaber, but if they’re not even people or intelligent droids at the very least, it seems easiest to just sort of…” He closes his fist again, then shrugs.
Next to them, Wolffe looks like he’s regretting having a second Jedi with them.
And then they land and the door opens, and as troopers stream out of the transport, the Jedi says, “Give me a couple minutes?”
“Of course,” Plo says, because he’d rather a Jedi who is centered than one who does not feel prepared for the fight they are about to enter. “Join us when you are ready.”
The Jedi nods, and then he closes his eyes, and Plo can feel him gathering the Force around him. And he is strong , Plo realizes–strong in a way that few are, strong in the way that Anakin Skywalker is, but instead of feeling like the hurricane that Skywalker feels like, he feels like the sun. Bright. Warm.
Life-giving.
“What’s he doing?” Boost asks, not quite quiet enough for Plo to avoid hearing it. “Can you feel that?”
Plo can feel something too, something that has him hesitating, because there’s a feeling in the Force like someone holding their breath, like being suspended on the precipice of something–
And then the Jedi reaches out and closes his hand, and every droid within sight crumples like soft clay in a child’s hand.
The entire world goes silent.
And then the Jedi opens his eyes, beams at Plo, and says, “I think I missed a few on the outer edges. Shall we?”
“Dibs,” Sinker says into the silence.