I really need to stop starting things. Anyways, here's the first chapter of something that's been in my mind for a while.
Chapter 1: Aliette
The planet was, well, war zones tended to be disasters so that would be redundant. The scent of burnt flesh mingled with the bitter tangle of torn metal and electricity, the buildings were shattered glass and mangled metal. Even with the destruction and the strewn corpses it wasn't hard to tell that the crystal lined towers and high walking streets had once been a beautiful sight. Through the settled chaos men walked around, many injured. Their numbers were few, their dopple gangers all dragged into piles or left on the ground.
Most were dead. Plenty were well on their way.
Their leaders were among them, blue and brown eyes tuned to the sky and the ship descending from it. Obi Wan Kenobi watched, using the ship as a distraction from the corpse being dragged away to his right.
"Looks like help has arrived," the elder of the two observed, crossing his arms over his chest. His beard lifted to the sky, and the carrier in it in gesture.
"Our cruiser must be back," the younger concluded, rubbing the wrist of his false arm, "which means we'll be able to get our reinforcements." There was hope in his voice. Everyone knew that they needed it, and none more so than those in charge.
"Fresh troops, new supplies," Kenobi listed, tacking them off on his fingers "and perhaps they've brought my new Padawan."
Anakin Skywalker, the last Padawan he'd trained, snorted. "You really think it's a good idea to bring a Padawan learner into all this?" He asked, incredulous. He did have a point, the battle field was no place for the children that Padawan's often were, however his not taking one on didn't mean someone else wouldn't, and in war time every hand was needed. Even small ones.
"I spoke to Master Yoda about it," the former teacher dismissed before changing the subject, "you should put in a request for one. You'd make a good teacher."
His advice, as usual, went ignored. Obi-Wan was a decade behind offense at the hot headed boy's nature.
"Anakin, Teaching is privilege. As Jedi it is our responsibility to help prepare the next generation," he lectured mildly. It was an old speech, one they'd gone over before.
His companion shook his head, hair blown by the thrusters of the ship as it finished its final decent and began opening.
"A Padawan would just slow me down."
Someone, somewhere, disagreed. Out of the transport strode a young woman, clearly not human. She was Togruta, defined by orange skin, symmetrical facial marking and a definitive replacement for hair. Her age was marked not only by her height but by the length of her lekku and the height of her montrals. Only just into her teenaged years.
"A youngling?" Obi-Wan wondered, watching her approach. He noticed the second passenger slip off the transport at the same time a box of ammunition for the big guns was walked in front of its ramp, almost obscuring her from his attention, if not for her force signature.
She didn't run to catch up when the group of three separated themselves from the clones to speak, Kenobi splitting his attention between the one who was, apparently, not his Padawan and the one who hopefully was. She took her time, gold eyes roaming the area around her. Though the soft grey of her shirt did little clash much with the dented white armor of the troops her skin certainly marked her from being human. Sharp intelligence read injuries in arms close to the side, jilted gaits and blood staining what had once been pristine plates. Her fingers twitched every time one of the men was within arm's length, though she never touched any, only passed them by.
When at last she joined her fellow Jedi the Togruta had her arm outstretched, a finger aimed at the younger Jedi. He looked panicked, the poor boy. Somehow, Obi Wan's sympathy was taking a vacation.
"Pointing is rude 'Soka," she scolded, finally gaining the attention of the other two. There was a lilt to her voice, her vowels pronounced in the back of her mouth, well behind her teeth while the consonants snapped out.
Kenobi looked over the elder of the pair now that she was closer. She looked Wroonian, or Pantoran, though he couldn't be sure at just a look. Her accent supported the theory of the latter, though it was too muted to be decisive.
' 'Soka' lowered her arm obediently, only to prop the same hand on her hip, the curl of her lips mutinous. Obi Wan smiled slightly. Oh, she would match well with Anakin.
The elder of the new arrivals cleared her throat politely and gave a clap-handed bow, untraditional by Jedi standards but clinching her heritage. Pantoran it was. Curiously she lacked the yellow markings of many of her people.
"I am Aliette Ansa, pleased to make your acquaintance. I am to be the Padawan for Master Kenobi," she reported. Obi Wan smiled. He had thought so, and was glad that Master Yoda had agreed to give him another chance at teaching.
"I am Obi Wan Kenobi," he announced, inclining his head respectfully, "It is good to meet you."
Her smile was interrupted by Anakin.
"Aren't you old for a Padawan?" he asked.
Ashoka snorted. "I'm too young, she'd too old."
Aliette's smile didn't waver, though it did turn from warm to cool. "I was previously an assistant to Master Vokara Che as a Healer in the Hall of such. Recently Master Yoda felt Master Kenobi's experience and position as a general would benefit me as a Master."
Kenobi could already tell that this was going to be different from his trials teaching Anakin.
"Okay, great, you've got your Padawan, now how do I get rid of mine?" Anakin demanded. He ignored Ashoka's offended 'hey!'.
"We'll sort that out later," Obi Wan said shortly, his mind twisting back to the problem at hand, "It won't be long before those droids figure out a way past our canons."
Aliette stood a bit straighter. "May I be of use?"
Kenobi nodded, his mind already working on a plan and a way to set the new arrivals to good use.
"Yes, I believe so. You said you were a healer?" he waited for her to nod, "Then see to the men, get as many into fighting shape as you can before the next wave hits."
Aliette gave another bow, shorted than her first. "As you say. Good luck to you, Master."
Kenobi watched her scramble away, her short boots barely skimming the planet's surface as she moved.
He turned back to Anakin and his Padawan, settling into his role as leader. They had strategy to work out.
Aliette slipped into the ranks she had been expecting since her arrival, gold eyes seeking out a gathering of injured.
She found what she was looking for and felt her heart beat alter in sympathy for the hurting men, their own pain resonating inside of her. She took a breath and stepped forwards, toward a man giving commands to the others.
She slipped through the white armor and the identical faces, gathering attention as she did so.
"Excuse me," she said, though she had already gained the commanders attention. Or perhaps he wasn't a commander, his armor wasn't designed like one. Whatever he was he took a long look at her before his eyes settled on her Light Saber, strapped to her hip, and he straightened up into Attention.
"Sir. Er, Ma'am?" he faltered.
She smiled at him in soft assurance. "Either works. I am Aliette Ansa, Master Kenobi sent me to help with the injured. Are you a medic?"
The clone gave a quick shake of his head. "No. Medics all fell already. I've got basic training though, we've been trying to organize," he jerked his head to the others around them. She followed his motion, her eyes shifting across face to face, and their subtle differences, and their wounds. She turned back to him.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"CT-32-"
She cut him off gently. "Your name, sir."
He startled, the others around them shifted. "Flint, Ma'am," he reported.
Aliette gave a nod in acknowledgement. "Flint, would you see if you can set up a shelter? And get what medical supplies you can to it? We need to handle the most critically wounded first, if it's possible, and that means keeping them out from under foot first and foremost."
"Right away, Ma'am," Flint snapped her a salute and ran off to another congregation of men to injured to move on with their duties.
Aliette turned around to the trooper closest to her.
"You," she gestured for him to step forwards, which he did with a snap to attention that hit his arm to his side and made him wince. Aliette pursed her lips. Clones were designed with a high pain tolerance, so it must have been bad for him to show it visibly.
"Your name?" she asked.
He had apparently learned from Flint's mistake and was quick, and somewhat proud, to inform her that he was Cover.
She smiled at him. "You won't be covering anyone for a while with your arm like that. May I?" she held her hand out.
Cover obediently placed his hurt arm in her grip. There was no hesitation, no distrust or peacocking the way most males she had worked with tended to do. It was a refreshing change, and it saved her the usual time she would have spent arguing and ordering.
The Healers Trance she used was light, seeing as it was a battle field, and the fracture, while twisted, was relatively minor. It had only taken to poking at a neve, which was what caused Cover so much pain. There was a soft glow of the Force altering the light and matter between her hands, closed over Cover's arm, and the brake.
She shifted it back in to place, feeling him tense and hearing him breath in sharper, before she mended it. Bones, at first, had been near impossible for her to do. They were stubborn, and ignored her nature of Suggest, no matter how beneficial it would be. At last she had to change it from her preferred Center to Demand and Order and Force to make the calcium repair itself.
The alteration, by then, was a familiar one, and she took it in stride. The Force moved through her, taking her guidance and channel for what it was, responding willingly to her call for assistance.
In a minute Cover was testing his arm out, twisting it this way and that as he experimented with motion.
"It will be easier to break for a few weeks," Aliette warned, "So please don't go punching tanks."
Cover grinned at her. "Yes Ma'am."
She turned to the next clone in a semi-formed line, one of many, and extended her hand.
The limb placed into her care was much worse off than Cover's. It was the hand that was the problem, smashed almost entirely into bits of bone and torn up capillary beds. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight and she looked up at the owner. A crescent tattoo bordered the eyes that met hers.
"Long Shot, sir," he reported, "got caught between the joints of a Super Battle Droid during one on one."
"One on five," someone behind him corrected. He straightened to Attention when Aliette looked over Long Shot's shoulder. "Group of us, me, Long Shot, Raugh, Tek, and Nik took one on when it got through the defenses."
"That must had been difficult. Were the rest injured as well?" she asked, splitting her attention between the Force and the trooper.
His mouth turned in a grim line. "The two of us were the only ones that finished that fight."
Aliette frowned and nodded, turning back to the task at hand. Carefully she pulled together the muscles and bones, the nerves, tendons and flesh. The glove had been stripped away at some point before Long Shot came into her care, making it easier for her to see what she was doing as well as See where the damage lifted away.
"What did you say you were called?" she asked Long Shot's friend. The clone shifted higher on a torn leg.
"Liner, Sir."
It was a number of minutes before she had Long Shot set, a time during which several of her new patients had been forced to the ground.
When her attention was again allowed fully on her surrounding she found that Flint had returned and was standing patiently at her side. She rewarded him with a smile.
"Is it set?" she asked, letting Long Shot have his hand back. He was twisting it around curiously, like he didn't quite recognize the digits now that they no longer had bone poking through the flesh.
"Yes Ma'am, over there," he pointed a little ways away from them, to a make-shift lean-to. Inside she could see men laying or sitting on improvised stretchers or crates of medical supplies. Most of them were pale with pain or leaning heavily on another brother.
Aliette took a breath, squaring her shoulders in Command and strode forwards. The clones parted like water in front of her and fell into step behind. They had a very limited window of time during which they would be able to tend to the wounded, and she intended to take advantage of it while she could.
"Long Shot," she called behind her. In a second the trooper was by her side, his chest puffed as he awaited her order. "Find any you can with medical experience, improvised or Flash Trained, please."
The man took well to her demands and snapped a salute before running off. She felt him go through the hurting brothers of his, knew when he reached another group of soldiers. Of survivors.
Her jaw tightened before she made it relax. A tense Healer was no good to anyone. They were conduits for the Force, Conductors for the orchestra that mended Pain. If they were tense so to would be their work, which could not be allowed. Healing required strict reset but flexible possibility, improvisation and focus. Healing was a contradictory art in many ways.
Aliette entered the small shelter, taking stock in an instant as Master Che had instructed her. They had Bacta Patches and bandages, true ones and an additional supply made of torn clothe from the area around. Kits were situated in a stack in the corner, all opened and virtually ransacked. These men were starting to worry. Without any trained doctors she couldn't blame them.
Aliette cleared her throat loud enough that all eyes locked on her. When a number of clones tried to rise she held a hand up to stop them.
"Stay. We're fixing you, not making it worse," she ordered. They obeyed with unease. She didn't say anything about it.
She looked behind her, picking Flint out of the crowd and calling him forwards. He stepped up.
"Would you get started assessing injuries? We need to start right away." She didn't add 'while we have a chance', it hung in the air without her needing to voice it. They knew better than she that time was a precious resource they would not be allotted for long.
Flint nodded and got to work. Aliette turned back to the others around her, those well enough to stand. "I'm going to work from most severe to least critical, so please place yourself accordingly," the words were a request but the men took them as orders. While they set themselves in the order she mentioned Aliette lowered herself to the ground beside one of the unconscious troopers. He had suffered a nasty looking head wound, one already smeared with what little Bacta they had left. If there was more everyone else would been bathing in it already.
The girl shooed off his worried Brother, one hovering near the impact sight, and shifted to his place. The broken ground bit into her bare knees and she made a note to trade skirt for pants when she had the opportunity, or at least add leggings.
Shrapnel had done the damage, she noted, and was proud to see that someone had had the foresight to remove it from the man's skull before adding the gel.
Aliette lay her hand over his head, stopping a few inches shy of touching. The girl opened herself to the Force, and to the man beside her. To his Pain and Hurt, to the Tears and Breaks and Pieces that the Force told her were there. She breathed in, taking information with it. She breathed out, letting the Force fall from her palm into the clone. It sunk through his skin, into the muscles, bone and brain matter. There was blood gathering inside, which was what she needed to take care of first.
Gold eyes opened, locking on the tense face of the clone she had made move.
"Give me that pack," she ordered, pointing to the metal kit closest to them. The clone looked between his brother, to her, to her weapon before he obeyed. She pursed her lips. It seemed not all of them followed orders as well as others.
When the kit was dropped into her possession she flicked through it, setting aside patches, needles and bandages until she found what she needed.
From the supplies she plucked a long, hollow tube with a shining point on the end. Locating the sight of hemorrhage she struck through with hesitation. The clone jerked, as did the unconscious men in her care when the needle punctured his skull and blood started flowing out.
"It was inside," she told the clone, "Pushing on his brain, adding pressure. It could have caused permanent damage if it wasn't let out," she explained. Once she was sure he wasn't going to stage a mutiny in defense of him she went on, healing the particles of bone and stitched together where flesh had split and veins had spilt. By the time she was done he had relaxed noticeable and some of the color had returned to his cheeks.
When Aliette looked up from her patient she found that Long Shot had brought several other clones back with him and they, along with Flint, were taking care of the superficial injuries. Anything flesh and easy to fix they were getting done.
Aliette looked back to the hoverer, knowing that Master Che would have physically thrown him from the ward if she were present. Since she wasn't, Aliette felt safe giving him a smile.
"He'll be fine. Give him a bit to wake and you can talk."
The trooper nodded, his surprise clear. She didn't address it, already moving on to the next one that needed her attention. Outside her realm she heard voices lift, felt panic and fear accompany it.
"Fantastic," she muttered, glaring out of the shelter. Her hands never stopped replacing the rearranged organs. She coaxed burnt flesh into life once more, getting him stable before she moved on once more.
"We need everyone able to move as soon as possible," she declared, "Liner, how'd your leg?"
Liner, who had been sitting on the ground in the corner, looked down at the Bacta coated limb. There was an empty syringe next to him. Aliette made a note to list all of their supplies once they were out of the frying pan.
"I can walk," he said at last.
Aliette nodded to herself, moving to the last unconscious clone. "Good. We're going to run a retreat for anyone who can't fight right now," she stopped then, knowing she would have to clear that with her master. Where ever he was. And her without a Com Link "We need to keep them and the medical supplies out of harm's way if it's possible. Would you tell that to Master Kenobi and see if he is able to adjust his plans to compensate for it? If not, Long Shot," she turned her eyes to the man standing sentry outside, "Needs to find a place to nest down, away from the general battle field."
The men both saluted her before running off, a reaction she was very unused to, as well as their general obedience. She was a Padawan Learner, before that just some Healer who would never be a Knight, people did not do as she said without question. Except these men, who reacted to her orders without hesitation, who trusted her to do her job.
Aliette pressed her lips together in a line. The pressure was on.
Once she had fixed the clones lungs, burnt inside from reasons she didn't know, she stood up to see who else she could help. So used to having to explain each step she took to impatient and paranoid patients she continued the practice with the clones, even after she realized that they would do as she told even if she didn't give the reason.
It was strange, really, that they didn't question her, didn't poke and pick at every twitch of her fingers.
Liner appeared again, with her new Master in tow.
She stood up from where she had been popping a shoulder back where it belonged, clasping her hand before her and bowing to the General.
"Master Kenobi," she greeted, "I hope I haven't over stepped my bounds. You told me to help…" she trailed off, shifting onto the heel of her low boots. Che had had a certain way she did things, a way things were to be done and those who did not follow her orders soon wished they had. She hoped Kenobi was different in that aspect.
"And you have," he said, eyes sliding across the work she had done with the clones, "quite a bit, I see."
Aliette nodded quickly. "Most of them would be able to fight if it came down to it now, though there are a few that should stay down for some time to come, it it's possible. I had hoped to set a place away from the fight for the injured to get to."
Kenobi stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I'm afraid that might not be possible. The Seperatists have come up with an extending Ray Shield that is coming our way now."
Fear fluttered in her heart. "I see."
She had managed to stay composed so far because she was in her element, among the wounded. Fighting, while she was able to do it, was not her forte. She doubted it ever would be, the girl was a pacifist at heart.
Kenobi was watching her. She swallowed her nerves and straightened, meeting his eyes squarely.
"Where would you like me?"
