I do not own Star Wars, we all know the man behind the Magic, Mr. Lucas does. I simply entertain myself with the fantasy that I might write something people might read, and in the process they will be entertained.

Amira was a long way from Alderaan. Smoke and the smell of charred flesh mingled with the odor of ion weapon discharge. The acrid air burned her nose and eyes blazing a searing trail all the way down her throat into her lungs. It was a concerted effort just to breathe.

Trudging ahead over bodies and pieces of battle droids she found herself questioning the decision to join the Grand Army of the Republic. For many people on Alderaan the Clone Wars were just news clips on the Holonet. For her, it was an all out assault on her senses, under her feat and in her face.

Before the war started she had been a healer at Aldera University Hospital. Her family had a long history of service; her father, uncles and now her brother had all served as galactic senators. She was not fond of politics herself, however, when diplomacy failed and the Republic plunged into war, it made every sense to her to join the fight.

"Commander…over here!" She snapped back into the here and now as a clone trooper waved at her frantically. As soon as she arrived at the scene all her reservations about joining the Army and thoughts of being safely back on Alderaan were forgotten, this was where she was needed.

As the battle continued to rage around them she knelt next to the wounded man to assess his condition. Immediately noticeable was the jagged piece of metal lodged in his chest. She quickly affixed a field dressing and skimmed his body for other wounds. A quick check of his vitals told her he was weak but stable. She started intravenous fluids and addressed the trooper standing over her providing cover. "Where's the evac?"

"ETA 30 minutes from the field hospital, could be more depending on enemy fire." The trooper's eyes never met hers but stayed alert constantly scanning the field of battle.

Her mind raced trying to calculate the odds of this patient lasting that long. Waiting out here under the constant barrage for 30 minutes, then the transport back to the field hospital would be another 30 minutes. She made a decision to cut out the middle man.

"He doesn't have that kind of time, alert the med-evac shuttle inbound to the Mercy to divert to this location."

As soon as the trooper had acknowledged her command and relayed it they came under fire. In the same moment the trooper dropped to one knee and began firing back she ducked and used her own body to shield her patient from the attack.

Once the barrage ended Amira cautiously sat back up and was startled to see her patient's eyes wide open and his hand reaching toward her. His mouth was moving but his words were not audible.

Grasping his hand in hers and leaning closer she soothed him. "Don't try to speak; we're going to have you out of here in just a few minutes."

He ignored her and shook his head somehow managing to summon the strength to speak. "Too…risky, leave...me."

"I am not leaving you." An ion cannon fired nearby and she shielded him again, fighting the fear that she and her patient were about to die. As debris rained down she again heard him whisper, "please…leave…me."

With her head hovering just inches above his own she swallowed her fear and stood firm. "We stick this out together, do you understand me? You did your job and I am doing mine. Waste no more energy on trying to convince me otherwise."

Although his eyes seemed to continue to protest they did so only briefly before unconsciousness claimed him.

Over the remaining minutes it took for the defensive batteries to clear a path for the shuttle to land and with no more that could be done medically Amira held on to the wounded man's hand offering what comfort she could.

Commissioned just eight months after the start of the Clone Wars, the Mercy, a state of the art medical frigate, loomed large in the window as the shuttle approached the landing bay. It was a welcome sight. Amira checked the vitals of her patient once more as they prepared to land.

Even before the the sub-light engines had completely shut down the trauma team was assembled and waiting. The ramp lowered and Amira escorted the hover stretcher off the shuttle.

From across the shuttle bay a Jedi fighter landed and the unmistakable figure of Commander Skywalker sprang from the cockpit and sprinted across the distance to the stretcher. "How is he?"

Amira continued walking with the stretcher. "He is critical but stable." She noticed that the young Jedi had sustained multiple smaller shrapnel wounds. "You should get those wounds looked at commander."

"That can wait, will he live?" Skywalker's face was a plane of worry. His hand rested on the shoulder of the wounded man.

"It's too soon to tell. I will not know the extent of the damage until we get him to surgery."

His eyes met hers and he pleaded. "Don't let him die."

"We'll do everything we can. Much will depend on his own strength."

Skywalker swallowed hard and fought to control his building emotion. "He's very strong." His hand lingered on the man's shoulder.

Amira nodded. "That's good commander, he's going to need it. I'll let you know as soon as he is out of surgery."

Reluctantly Skywalker backed away and watched helplessly as the stretcher continued out of the shuttle bay toward the trauma unit.