...
#: ARGO :#
(A Star Wars Story)
Report 4
- Bleed -
###############################
Medical Officer Log, Personal Diary (30 minutes before escape)
There's too many injured on board the Titan. Even when I'm fully staffed, I don't have enough hands to care for those injured by blaster fire, or TIE pilots who came back half-dead. This is the time where I always think if I made the right decision in becoming a doctor. I've hated people since I was born. I hated how they lack personal hygiene, never washing their hands after they use the washroom, and how most of them won't stop grabbing my *ss. When the Empire wins this battle, I will thoroughly decided whether I should resign my position as Naval Medical officer and just work in a clinic in Nar Shadaa... I heard they pay good with lots of—(RECORD TERMINATED).
###############################
"...I...don't want to die... not in this... stench..."
Maria Seacolle opened her eyes. She saw red, everything in her vision was a damp crimson. She wasn't angry, neither was she p*ssed, she just saw red.
"...I hate blood."
With a bruised hand, she tried to wipe the red color from her eyes. No matter how many times she ripped the red fluid from her face, it kept dripping down.
"...Sithspit. Is this my blood?"
Because Maria Seacolle's skin was a soft ebony color, and with her rattled mind, it was hard to discern if the red on her hand was actually blood or maybe fuel stains from the ship's cracked ceiling. Either way, she frowned.
"...Get up... patients need you Seacolle... even, if they try and pinch you all over. D*mn it my wrist!"
The Doctor tried to rise to her feet. She looked down at her legs. It was supposed to covered in an expensive stocking, but something tore it open to show her skin. It was protection from lechers who come to the Titan's Sickbay every now and then with 'ailments'. She hoped it deterred them from staring at her thighs, but alas the stockings seemed to increase the frequency of the random visits by 20%. There were even girls thrown in the count, oddly.
"...53... That's how many are in sickbay...Wh...where did they go?"
The medical center of the Star Destroyer Titan was an equal size to two classrooms built together. It invested heavily on its medical bay, Bacta technology, and even added in expensive medical droids as her assistants that doubled as automated nurses. The bioscanners, the bacta tanks, the droids, and the 53 patients she was last seeing while in the firefight back in Endor... they were all laying across the ground.
"...You... got to be kidding—HUUUURK!"
The Doctor threw up. You'd think she was used to seeing collateral damage of this scale. Mind you, she even served as an Imperial Army doctor in Battles like Hoth, Xagobah, and even the Siege of Inyusu Tor. It was because she felt exhausted from running around, so she decided to enlisted into the navy as a Medical Officer on a Star Destroyer. So, the real reason why she was vomiting was quite clear.
"D*mn. D-did I get a concussion? Th-this isn't the time for that! Uurk."
Even with a raging headache and stumbling gait, Maria Seacolle picked up her medical scanners and started to check the vitals of the 53 patient who ended up on the floor.
Pulse: 0
"N...next one. Chief Gunner Anton."
Pulse: 0
"Tch. Roak. Even if you are the ship's cook, I don't see how it's relevant to be working at the stove in the middle of a ship's battle!"
Pulse: 0.
"... Chief Petty Officer Lia. Commander Sania?"
Pulse: 0. Pulse: 0.
"..."
Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0.
—Pulse: 80/70
"Finally, a life sign. Don't give up on me you...Rebel?"
Maria Seacolle woke up. No, she didn't pass out, neither did she go into a depressing spiral where she was trapped in a secluded dream. Rather, her concussion was so bad, she completely forgot why she staggered out of the medical bay. She realized her body had been moving on its own for a total of 5 minutes (she checked her watch), her hand carrying the hand held biometers to scan for survivors. Any survivors. It was like a mouse mindlessly tracking after cheese crumbs... until it hit the jackpot.
The prize was a Rebel Soldier who was lying on his back across the floor, covered in black soot and explosion burns over his exposed skin and face.
"...D...don't move...O-or I'll shoot you!"
"How the nether are you going to kill me in that condition? You're missing an arm, soldier."
"D-don't come any closer, I-I'm serious...Wait? My arm...oh...Oh...OH SH—"
"D*mn, his subconscious wasn't aware he's missing a limb! I messed up!"
Seeing the entire cornea sinking into the back of the enemy soldier's eyes, Maria Seacolle quickly tried to grab the soldier's body before it hit the ground. The last thing she needed, was even this enemy survivor to be another Pulse 0.
Even in her concussion, the Good Doctor remember what happened. The Star Destroyer Titan was under attack. They were following other ships to straight charge through a blockade, but suffered heavy damages from the enemy cannons. It was to the point where they nearly took out their engines. In the rampage, a Corellian Corvette was lucky enough to get in close under and out of the turbo laser's line of sight, shooting volleys of ion lasers to knock out one side of its automated anti-ship battery.
The last thing Maria Seacolle heard on the intercoms, that the ship had been boarded by Rebel Soldiers. Then, everything turned into a blur from a series of chain explosions across the ship hull, power failure, and the conducting an emergency warp out of the Battle. That was the point where she blacked out. Now, she saw the same Rebel Trooper who had been part of the boarding party. He was a young man in medium-class armor, which was resistive enough to endure a blaster bolt to the chest or two...However.
"You seriously need to request your armor designer to re-think over his schematics. A single shrapnel from the ship's wall is enough to cut through the joints between your shoulder and arm guard!"
"Aaaah! H-help me! I-I don't want to die, n-not while I'm trapped on the enemy ship!"
"I completely understand, so please stop thrashing like an animal! You're bleeding everywhere and this isn't helping to apply pressure to your wound!"
Maria Seacolle focused on stopping the bleeding from the stump of the Rebel Soldier's arm. She didn't have a belt, she wore a skirt (duh), so she quickly dove through some of the dead bodies and ripped off a belt from a fallen Imperial officer. At the very least, she uttered as 'sorry', before she used the belt to tie off the sliced arm.
"Wh-what are you doing!?"
"Putting a tourniquet on your arm, what else!? Stop panicking, your blood pressure at this point is not helping you stay alive any longer!"
"I, I didn't want this. I-I only want to end this stupid civil war and go home! Just when we finally won over the Empire again! I can't end like this."
"...You'll get home."
"Sh-shut up. All you imperials are the same. Once you help me, you'll eventually capture me and interrogate me. I'm not going to betray the Rebell Alliance!"
"Either you're experiencing symptoms of delusions or you're just plain stupid! I'm a doctor! I don't care who my patient is, whether they be an Imperial Ensign or even a Rebel General. If you're in need, I offer my assistance. That is the oath I've taken."
"Stay away from me. God-d*mn Imperial!"
The moment Maria Seacolle tied up the belt around the stump to stop the bleeding, she let out a sigh - and received a kick in the gut.
"GUUUH!"
Her small body went tumbling into the air by several inches off the ground. With a heavy splat, she found herself rolling across the ship tiles and over couple of bodies. The one she landed on was an Ensign she recognized. She was a young girl, having only turned 20 last year. She was so eager to serve proudly on an Imperial Star Destroyer, the young and starry eyed Ensign was ready to fight the food fight with all her might.
"...Would this mean... I'll be joining you, E-Ensign Matlea?"
The body of the Ensign she fell on had no reaction. No answer, no flinch, not even breath. Those wide once starry eyes... they had been dulled out. It was sad, she was lying on the ground in her own pool of blood, the beam from the ship's ceiling stabbed through her abdomen.
"...No one wants to die boy, not in this stupid war."
"D-don't move! I'll shoot, I swear! I swear to God I'll kill you!"
"...Good luck with your arm dumb*ss."
Maria Seacolle knew what she said was unbecoming of a doctor. The very gesture was breaching her Hippocratic Oath. But she didn't care. It was because she knew how ungrateful her patients were, despite saving them one too many times from near death. This last moment was no exception.
"F-FOR THE REB—"
*PEEW*
"...Ah."
Before the soldier could squeeze off a shot, the door behind him suddenly opened. It shocked Maria Seacolle. It was because that was the exit to one of the escape pods. The lights and electronic signs already state it was empty, the pod was already gone, so everything should be sealed to keep the vacuum out.
But it slid open, forcing itself ajar for a group of Stormtroopers to rush into the ship's corridor. The first order of business for them, was shooting down the Rebel Soldier that threatened to harm Imperial Personnel, namely the Doctor. Even if he had only one arm, he was still armed with a blaster pistol. In a split second decision, there was no room to deliberate whether the injured enemy should live or not — Shoot first. Don't bother asking questions.
"Secure the area. Eliminate all enemy units on sight, go, go!"
Maria Seacolle watched. More Stormtroopers and a leading Imperial Officers entered the ship via the empty escape pod hatch. If her concussion wasn't that bad, she would have deduced they were using a specialized boarding vessel that could dock to any known opening on a ship be it allied or enemy.
The Stormtroopers spread out in all direction, scanning rooms, checking corners, and pulling the trigger on any Rebel Soldiers down another hall the Doctor didn't notice. After a grueling 10 seconds of armor clattering sounds, one of the soldiers approached the fallen Doctor. The trooper was armed with a standard issue E-11 BlasTech rifle, with an effective fighting range of 350 meter, three combat settings of stun-sting-kill, an advanced onboard cooling system, and a battery power cells that could fire 200 - 500 blaster bolts. A formidable weapon representing the Iron Will of the Empire. It was just as scary as the people who wield them on the battlefield.
"Make it fast people, the Titan is about to fall into the star's orbit. If we don't hurry and secure the survivors, we won't be able to get away from the gravitational pull—You, on the ground! Identify yourself!"
"...Are you... a woman?"
"I said identify yourself! Or else I'll shoot."
"... Chief Ph-physician of the St-Star Destroyer Ti-Ti-Titan. Do-Doctor Seacolle. I-I'm un-un armed."
"Checking, hold still...Confirmed, your ID bracelet checks out. Medical Officer Maria Bri'Tish Seacolle. Wait, why are you stuttering?"
"Gnngg-nnng-nnng. C-concuss-Cus-Cus-Cus-M-M-Medical A-att-att-"
"Medic! Get a Medic, over here! This person needs medical attention! Now!"
The Stormtrooper who found Maria Seacolle did indeed sounded like a woman. She had this distinct voice where she should have been in the Galactic Opera Business, but oddly chose a career of joining the Galactic Imperial Marine Corp. She waved an armored hand to several members of her boarding party and one Imperial Soldier with a red cross on his armor. They quickly stopped critical bleeding on the fallen Doctor, and administering fast-acting injections to reduce the swelling of her concussed brain.
"Y-you-you-you-wh-who-who?"
"TK-1867. Sergeant Kanata of the Star Destroyer Argo, 502nd Air Regiment. Our Commander dispatched us to look for survivors on the Titan before it drops into the nearby star."
"Y-y-you-look-look-ri-ri-ridiculous-with-with-that-helm-helm-helmet. H-ha-ha—Guhg."
"What does that suppose to mean? Are you trying to pick a fight with a Stormtrooper or is it the concussion that's talking spat—SH*T, Wake up! Don't just roll your eyes back into your head with the last laugh! D*mn it, round up the survivors and let's get back, ASAP!
