AN: Well shit. I've watched Rogue One twice so far, and I am so many different kinds of not okay with the ending I just can't even.
As I do with all new stories, introductions are in order. I'm a vet student. I write short(ish) chapters, some of which are much much shorter than others. Some are set one after the other, others are just little snippets in time. It works for me, because, like I said before, I'm a vet student, which means I spend 99.9% of my time sobbing into my laminated notes, and the other 0.1% of my time either playing with my animals, eating, shitting, or sleeping (usually never doing two of these at once).
This is all totally gratuitous. It's going to be Chirrut/Baze and eventual Cassian/Jyn. It's going to be OC Bones (imagine a slightly younger, female version of Star Trek's Bones McCoy) being a seriously grumpy sweary toad, and Bodhi being a seriously precious cinnamon bun who JUST NEEDS CUDDLES AND CODDLES OKAY! And OC Linta mothering everyone.
Also because I'm a vet I (theoretically) know animal anatomy and physiology, not human. Also because I'm a student, I don't know a huge amount about treatment thereof, so I'm improvising a bit, and collaborating with a vet nurse to get slightly more accurate things. I'll also stick a glossary of terms up at the end of each chapter and attempt a laymans explanation of it (GOOD PRACTICE FOR MEEEEEEEEE).
Disclaimer:
I own nothing you recognise. This is all completely un-beta'd and totally fresh off the top of my brain!
Her communicator buzzes to life. "Rogue One coming in with casualties, you're requested at landing pad A2, emergency on board."
"Confirm, landing pad A2. Request what kind of medical emergency," Bones replies. She's already in motion, hands grabbing her kit. Linta spots her from across the room and whirls into action herself.
"Tib, Dart, with me; Pen, prep room four, unknown incoming casualties," Linta says, and the nurses rush out the door to obey.
"Uhh emergency not breathing, pilot advises three more passengers have sustained blaster injuries," the voice replies.
"Confirm emergency not breathing, confirm three further injured, request Rogue One ETA," she barks. Linta slips into step with her, carrying her own emergency kit. Tib and Dart fall into step behind them, checking their own array of on-the-body supplies. There always gurneys located in the hangers, for exactly this reason, even though it is very rare for a pilot to return to them in such a condition as to need one.
They're usually dead by then.
"Rogue One ETA two and counting. Out." The communicator gives one last spit of crackling and goes quiet.
"Shit," she says emphatically, and breaks into a run. Linta keeps pace beside her. "You got that?"
"Yep," Linta says. She pulls out her communicator. "Pen, have the crash cart on hand and four beds, we have one non breather and three blasters coming in."
"Confirmed, one non breather and three blasters, one crash cart and four beds. Advise relocating to room eight as it has more bacta tanks," Pen's voice crackles over the communicator.
"Confirmed room eight. Will advise on nature of emergency and blaster injuries on our way. Out." Linta clicks the communicator and clips it back onto her belt. "Someone must have said we were quiet today."
"I'm going to find them and pour bantha shit into their boots," she snarls in reply.
"I'll help you."
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