Chapter Eight

Recovery

Aboard the Justice,93 days ABG

Alanna woke on a warm, slightly yielding surface. The sounds of boots on durasteel, and the soft beeps given off by monitors, and smelt antiseptic, and a faint trace of burnt flesh. She could already tell that the burns on her side, cheeks, and arms had been treated, most likely with bacta. She opened her eyes, and was met with the faint smile of master Adraxis. "Master" she murmured, still feeling more than a little groggy. Then, considering how much she'd drawn on the Force when she and Drake had escaped the droid factory, it was no surprise she felt like a wrung out wash cloth. "You gave us quite a fright, charging into that factory like you did" the older Jedi said, his tone admonishing, but in the Force, he was radiating both pride and approval of her actions. Obviously, despite his calm, outward appearance, her master respected her decision to risk her own life to save another. Even if that 'other' had been none to pleased to see her. Initially, anyways. Alannas' thoughts went to the surly clone commander. She could sense him nearby, but she couldn't see him, lying down as she was.

"Master, is Drake-" Adraxis made a soothing motion with his hand, and nodded. She sat up, glancing around, realizing that she was in the Justices' medical bay. Against the far wall, in one of the bacta tanks, floated a scarred, dark-haired clone, that could only be Drake. His eyes were open and he was motioning impatiently to the medics. Apparently, the commander was more than eager to be back in his armour, and closed off from the rest of the galaxy. Not for the first, and probably not for the last time, she wondered what had happened to make him so...withdrawn. Then, perhaps it was for the best she didn't find out. She still remembered the expression on his face. A mix of surprise, anger, and...disappointment? It was almost like Drake had wanted to die, alone in the factory, making sure everyone else got out alive. Her arrival had thrown a hydro-spanner right into the middle of his plan, and despite both of them getting out alive...she felt that Drake would have been happiest if she'd left him.

Alanna had heard of similar cases, in criminals, with nowhere else to go. Suicide, or suicide by cop, it was called. She'd never heard of clones throwing themselves at the enemy hoping to die, though. To save their brothers, maybe, but master Adraxis and the troopers with him had already been out of the factory for minutes. More than enough time for the commander to make a break for it. "Alanna? Are you alright?" Her masters voice shook her out of her thoughts. She turned her head to regard him, and realized that his smile had faded, replaced by a rather concerned stare. It wasn't hard to imagine why that was. She'd fallen silent for some time, and he was probably debating whether or not to call the med droid over. She attempted a reassuring smile, and said "I'm fine. Just...thinking" Jerik Adraxis was a kind, understanding man, and the best Jedi she knew, but that also meant he followed the code, to the letter. If Alanna admitted she was...interested in the clones' well being, he might see it as attachment.

He'd then feel obligated to report said attachment to the council, and that would mean a whole bunch of trouble for Alanna, and possibly Drake as well. That was something she didn't want. From what she could sense, the commander had more than enough on his plate without the Jedi council breathing down his neck. Her master nodded, smiled again, and stepped away from the bed. "I'll leave you to your thoughts. Get some rest, Alanna" with that, he turned on his heel, and left the med bay. Again, she glanced over at the bacta tanks, where Drake had been extracted and was being helped into his bodysuit by one of his captains. Vyre, most likely. The captain of first company had been wounded as well, but from his brisk movements and easy posture, she guessed his wounds had been less severe. Or, he was far better at hiding his discomfort than Drake was. The commander was attempting to act like his wounds had healed completely, but some areas of his skin were still reddened, and he grimaced in pain when he stretched his arms to fit them into the sleeves of his bodysuit.

As Vyre knelt to help with the boots and leg armour, Drake glanced over and saw her staring. At first, she expected anger, or embarrassment, or something. Instead, he stared for a few seconds, then inclined his head so slightly, she almost thought she'd imagined it. Then he turned away, and began putting on his armour. Alanna wondered if he'd be open to talk. 'Probably not' she thought, watching as he finished putting on his armour and stalked out of the med bay, followed closely by Vyre. She knew better than to try to follow. First, because she was so sore she would probably fall flat on her face the moment she stepped out of bed, and second, because Drake probably wasn't ready to have a heart to heart discussion with her. Sighing, she leaned back, closing her eyes, and let darkness close in on her.

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

Drake turned away from commander Starsong, putting his helmet on and closing himself off from the outside world. She may have saved his life, but she wasn't one of his brothers. More importantly, she was a Jedi. Worse still, he now owed her for saving his shebs in the droid factory. As much as he might not want to admit it, if she hadn't thrown the EMP grenade, frying both his helmet and the super battle droids, he would have died. He tried to tell himself that it didn't change a damned thing. She was still one of the Jedi, those robe wearing Force users that thought it was okay to waste good mens' lives. He knew that if he didn't get out of the medical bay soon, he'd say something stupid. As much as he disliked Jedi, Starsong was still just a kid, and she'd admitted that she didn't have command experience. He motioned to Vyre, and the captain put his own helmet on and fell in beside him.

Drake glanced at his subordinate. He'd been taken from the bacta tank earlier than Drake, and while he hadn't seen his brothers' injuries, Vyre walked carefully, and despite his easy posture, it was obvious he was still in a little pain. His own injuries still hurt him as well, though he bore it in silence. He'd been wounded much worse than the few blaster burns he'd received on Muunilinst. "How many casualties?" He asked, not bothering to got to private helmet channels. The crew of the Justice were mostly brothers, and they understood loss. "Twenty six dead. Forty three walking wounded, and six in bacta tanks besides us, and another eight waiting for them" Vyre reported, his voice becoming grim. Drake now understood why he and Vyre had been discharged early. The Justice simply didn't have enough bacta tanks to take the entire group of seriously wounded men. Which meant half healed troopers would have to make do on their own.

Walking wounded were lined up outside the med bays, with medics patching them up as best they could. All the med droids were busy inside, working on the seriously wounded. Drake wasn't particularly fond of med droids, either. They were too... logical for his tastes. He realized that sometimes people sometimes couldn't be saved, but he disliked how they would simply stop working to save a wounded man in favour of someone who had a better percentage of surviving. But, it was none of his business, as his former general would say. It was his job to give orders and shoot at the droids, nothing else.

The pair of them continued down the corridors, towards their assigned bunks. "You have any idea where we're off to next?" Drake asked noticing that the ship was still over Muunilinst. Wrecked hulls, most of them Separatist cruisers slowly moved past, remnants of the space battle. " No. The general was in the med bay a couple of minutes before they pulled you out, but he didn't say anything about our next destination" replied Vyre. Drake doubted that it meant the 230th was going to get some R&R. The war was in full swing by now, and that meant they'd probably be moving on as soon as the Justice completed its' post battle situation check and received orders from high command.

"Uh oh" Vyre nudged him, and nodded towards a rapidly approaching medic. Drake sighed as he recognized Cross, coming towards the captain and commander with an expression that would have made a gundark back off. Once he was within earshot, the medic snarled "what the shab do you two think you're doing out of the med bay?"
"Discharged early" Vyre said, earning himself a baleful glare from the medic.
"By whom? I swear, I'll have that-"
"Cross, relax. There are men that needed the tanks more than we did. We're fit to fight" Drake said, attempting to calm the man.
Cross appeared to consider that bit of information for a few seconds, before nodding. "Fine. But I'm confining you to your quarters until further notice. Of the general has a problem with it, he can talk to me'

Vyre grumbled good-naturedly, and Drake grinned. He knew better than to argue with Cross. Where wounded men were concerned, medics outranked everyone. He'd once seen Cross shout several wounded sergeants and a lieutenant down after one particularly nasty battle. Cross passed them both, headed towards the medical bay, undoubtedly to help out with the wounded. Sometimes, Drake worried about the man and the amount of sleep he got. Cross was one of best medics he knew, but he tended to spend more time looking after his squad mates than he did himself. As far as he knew, Cross had tended to the injured and fought during the battle, on the way up to the Justice , and now he was on his way to look after more of his brothers in the medical bay. One person, even a clone, could only do so much, and Cross was rapidly approaching his limits.

Drake and Vyre headed towards their barracks, and Vyre said quietly "Drake...if we keep taking casualties like this..."
"I know" Drake said, cutting his brother off. If the 230th kept taking casualties, they'd be down to two company strength in no time. He'd heard horror stories about units that had remained under strength for too long being sent to Kamino for reconditioning. Vyre didn't need to tell him what the consequences could be. No clone wanted to go back to Kamino if they didn't have to. They'd been treated as property for ten years of their lives by the grey skinned freaks. The Kaminoans had no qualms about terminating 'defective' clones. They needed to reinforce the squads and companies, and a whole new company needed to be created, to bring the battalion back to full strength.

The door to the 230ths' barracks opened, and the two officers headed towards their own bunks. "Cross has you two on bed rest too, huh?" Someone said, and Drake turned to see River sitting on his own bunk, arm in a sling, a grin on his face. The commander chuckled, knowing that River hadn't been exactly keen to sit on his shebs while the others looked after wounded brothers. "Yeah, and he isn't taking any arguments, either" Vyre said, taking a seat on his bunk, leaning back against the wall. River laughed out loud and tapped his arm 'you're telling me. He almost tore my head off when I told him it wasn't that bad. At least we know he's committed" Drake snorted, and removed his own helmet, setting it down before leaning against the wall near his bunk.
"Where's Dagger?" He asked, noticing that the troopers brother by choice was absent from the barracks.
River shrugged "probably stuffing his face in the mess. You know him." Drake wasn't tired enough to sleep, but it did feel good to actually sit down, even if he was still in full armour.

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

Alanna was discharged from the med bay some time after Drake and Vyre left. A med droid had approached, checked her vitals, and declared her fit for active duty. While plenty of liquids and bed rest was fine treatment for exhaustion, but it didn't do much for her appetite. So as soon as she was discharged from medical, her first stop was the mess hall. The line of injured troopers that she'd seen while being brought to the medical bay had diminished, although those that had been badly injured were still in the bacta tanks. She arrived at the mess hall in a few minutes, and was surprised at how fast she'd learnt the layout of the Venator, she stepped inside, and felt the dozens of clone troopers lock their attention on her.

She continued towards a line of troopers that were waiting to get their food, flashing smiles at the seated soldiers she passed, most of who watched her with an equal mix curiosity and trepidation. However, a few of the braver clones grinned back at her. After all, she wasn't only a Jedi, but a female as well. She suspected that was half the reason for the stares she received. She hadn't seen any female crew or officers on board, and as far as she knew, there were no female clone troopers in the Grand Army of the Republic. She wasn't sure on what clone opinions were about 'fraternizing' with female officers, but she guessed it was a big no-no. Not that she would encourage it, but she wouldn't reprimand them for looking.

The line shortened until it was her turn, and the droid server shovelled some steamed vegetables and some type of ground meat that she couldn't identify. 'On second thought, it's probably best not to speculate too much' she mused, giving it an experimental jab with her fork. "No returns" the droid said sharply. "Move along" cocking an eyebrow at the server droid, she left the line, and searched for a table with a free seat. She was saved the trouble when a trooper in grey fatigues stood up and waved her over. "Commander, over here!" The troopers near her froze in the middle of their meals, looking like they expected her to ignite her lightsabre and slaughter those in the mess hall, because of one troopers boldness.

Smiling again in an attempt to put the men at ease, she made her way to the table, recognizing the trooper that had called her as Jag. She also noticed the silver-blue eyed sergeant, Ice, sitting with his men, rather than his fellow sergeants. Several other troopers sat with the pair,including Cross, the medic, eating their meals in silence, for the most part. "Hello, Ice, Jag, Cross" she said, greeting those that she knew.
"Hello, commander. Nice to see you up and about" Jag said, grinning at her, and then at her plate. "What do you know, lads, Jedi eat the same stuff we do!" He exclaimed, and Ice rolled his eyes. "Real mature, Jag. Now eat your veggies" the sergeant said, drawing a round of chuckles from the other clones around the table. Alanna sat beside Jag, and glanced across the table, looking into Cross' eyes. The medic slumped forwards, and he seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Cross?" She asked, tapping his fore arm to get his attention. " Are you alright?"

Cross smiled at her "fine, ma'am. Just-" Jag cut him off
"He's just busy trying to do an entire med bays' worth of work" the scarred trooper said.
Cross sighed and shook his head, but didn't argue with his brother. "I'm fine, commander. There were a lot of wounded after the battle. I needed to make sure they all got taken care of" Jag was still frowning, but didn't say anything else.
"Commander, have you met the rest of first squad?" Ice inquired, motioning to the other clones, some of them watching the conversation. One of them leaned forwards, "name's Dagger, ma'am, and this guy-" he gestured to the trooper beside him, "- is Hazard, our CDE" Hazard, she remembered. The one trooper that argued with captain Vyre, and nearly argued with her.

"CDE? What's that?" Alanna asked, and the troopers laughed again. She was starting to wonder if the squad was playing some sort of trick on her, when Hazard, grinning from ear to ear, explained " just a title the boys made up. CDE means creative demolitions expert" 'oh, that sounds safe' she thought, and another question came to her. "So, your name...does that have something to do with your title?" Hazard chuckled and nodded.
"yeah...long story straight, there was an...incident, back when we were in Kamino. I may have...made a mistake while calculating the formula for a rapid entry charge. Our training sergeant called me a hazard to the company, and it stuck" It seemed that the men of first squad seemed a little less tense, even Ice, who had been uncomfortable speaking with her at first. "Tor and Storm are on duty right now, but you've seen them, and Cross here has River on bed rest. " Explained Ice, and Alanna nodded, glad that some of the battalion were starting to accept her, even if it was just small talk. They spoke for the rest of the meal, before Alanna retired to her quarters, and the troopers headed to their barracks.

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

"So, bets on our next assignment?" River said, glancing at Tor and Storm, who had come off duty a little while ago. Drake and Vyre let them talk, but he kept his mouth shut, unless they asked specifically for his opinion. The troopers weren't surprised that he wasn't joining in on the discussion, and respected his choice. "Somewhere nice. Naboo, maybe?" Storm said hopefully. The others made noises of derision, at their brother.
"Storm, there isn't any fighting on Naboo. Anyways, since when is anywhere we fight nice?" Asked Tor, slapping his brother on the back of the head. Storm scowled and shrugged. " I dunno. Just figured it would be nice not to be somewhere where we're stuck in an urban fighting" the others grumbled their agreement. First Ession, then Muunilinst. Drake didn't blame them for grumbling them about their recent deployments, considering the heavy casualties they'd taken on both planets.

"What about Tatooine? I hear its' nice this time of year" said Tor. Storm scowled at him and River groaned.
"Yeah, it's nice, if you like two suns and scorching days and freezing nights. Give me one or the other" retorted River. Vyre chimed in from the sidelines,
"what about a place like Toola? Cold, but I like the snow. Especially when its' falling at night" the captain said, and Drake found himself staring. He'd never known that the captain of first company knew anything about snow, or even liked it. "Cap', I didn't know you'd ever seen snow. Or liked it" said Storm, cocking an eyebrow in surprise. Vyre shrugged, a stubborn expression set on his face. "I do watch the holos, you know. Did you know, that apparently every snowflake is individual?" Tor snorted in disbelief, and the others chuckled.
"All due respect, Vyre,but do you know how many shabla snow planets there are in the outer rim alone?" Asked River. Vyre grinned and shook his head, apparently lacking a suiting retort.

"Ah, leave him alone, River" said Storm. "Can you imagine what kind of worlds Scythe and his boys would like to fight on?" River and Tor laughed. Drake knew that the men of third company, under captain Scythe, were regarded as psychotic, at best. "Probably some place crawling with clankers, rivers of acid, and toxic atmospheres" Tor said, grinning widely.

The brothers grins faded as Ice and the others entered the barracks, the sergeant holding a datapad in his hand. "Sergeant? Something wrong?" Asked Vyre, getting up from his bunk. Ice brandished the 'pad, and Drake realized what it was even before the sergeant of first squad spoke. "We finally got a list of the dead" he didn't need to say any more. Drake was on his feet in an instant, Vyre and the others following suit. He grabbed his own datapad from where it rested on the bunk, and motioned for Ice to transmit the list of names. He did so, and the rest of the troopers inclined their heads to their own 'pads. Most of the names Drake knew it was his duty to know, but not all of the squad knew the others, especially from different companies.

Drake opened his mouth, the words of remembrance coming naturally to him " Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, gar darasuum" he said, glancing at the first name on the list "Ten, Beks, Vic, Trill, Tann, Fol, Hal, Ruus, Jell, Goran, Nas, Trip, Kam, Lire-" the list went on, until all twenty six of the battalions dead brothers that had fallen. He wasn't alone in the remembrance. His brothers joined in, their voices an echo of his own. A moment of silence followed, and Drake thought 'more gone. You will be avenged, vode. I swear it.' "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la" Vyre added quietly.
Looking at the men of first squad, Drake said "K'oyacyi, vode. The republic still needs us to win their war for them" K'oyacyi. Stay alive, hang in there. Something the 230th were good at, if nothing else.