#28 A Rude Awakening


Goose was caught in that amorphous limbo state between sleeping and waking. Almost dreaming, and yet her mind clung to its last tiny spark of cognizance, unwilling to release itself fully into oblivion. She felt weird. Floaty. Disjointed. An almost unpleasant sensation of being set adrift, sinking in a vast, incomprehensively deep ocean. Many times she felt herself carried close to the surface of consciousness, and each time she was dragged back under by some treacherous, shadowy undercurrent.

Time lost its meaning. Each moment was a year, every hour just a blink of the eye. Seconds turned into days, weeks into milliseconds.

There was pain, too, or perhaps it was only an echo of pain. She couldn't be sure. Thoughts only came in brief spurts, lasting no more than a moment before they were gone, like wisps of smoke curling into the atmosphere. Awareness faded in and out, leaving here tumbling blindly through the tepid sea of darkness, the heavy tides carrying her where they wished. Hazy memories played out behind her closed eyes, like shadowy specters cast by the waning light of a dying sun.

Explosions. The ground shaking beneath her feet, leaping flames and billowing black smoke. Ranks upon ranks of battle droids, always moving, always coming…never stopping. Clone troopers. Torrent Company. Fighting. Dying. Ripped to pieces and left where they lay. The AT-TE pilot, bleeding out his wasted life onto the ancient monastery floor. Ventress…snarling, sneering, holding her by the throat…deadly red blade only inches away. Sitting in the stone courtyard, holed up behind the burned out walker…watching the sunset…waiting to die.

The pain became more distinct now, gathering to one point in the back of her head. She jerked in pain, writhing feebly on the ancient flagstones paving the monastery courtyard beneath her. Except it was soft now, which was wrong. And there was silence. That was wrong. Where were the explosions? The crossfire? The reinforcement troopers had landed blasters blazing. Shouldn't it be noisy?

Where am I?

Darkness threatened to pull Goose down beneath the waves once more, but she struggled against it until, at long last, she finally broke the surface. Her hands tightened convulsively, feeling thin, crisp fabric run between her fingers. Sheets. She grasped them tightly, as if they were her anchor to consciousness. Then she tried to open her eyes, even though they were so dreadfully heavy, feeling as if they had been crusted shut by the sleep sand that had gathered at the edges of her eyelids.

When at last she pried them open, she was confronted by such a blinding, overwhelmingly white light her first bemused thought was that she'd woken up in some sort of afterlife. Her vision blurred as her eyes watered at the pain of the bright light, and before she could blink them clear a tall shadowy blur moved in the corner of her vision. Goose did not wait for her eyes to adjust to the light, panic flaring to the forefront and leaving no room for rational thought.

Adrenaline surged through her, and Goose shot up so quickly her head exploded in agony, only worsening her disoriented state by sending blood rushing back into her head. She tried desperately to stand, to run, to crawl, anything if it meant getting away. But it was no use, as cold, metallic fingers closed around her shoulders, forcing her back flat on the bed. The figure – a droid – uttered something in its passionless, monotonic voice, but Goose's brain was such a disjointed whirlwind of fear she could not decipher its meaning.

In her mind's eye, a battle droid loomed over her, trying to choke the life out of her

Perhaps she screamed, but more likely it was just in her mind. She couldn't tell. Her head began to throb painfully, while her breath came in short gasps and her heart thundered in her chest as she started to lose a hold on consciousness. Goose continued to struggle blindly, thrashing weakly to no avail against this droid that held her captive, her fear fueling her despite her feeble state. One thing did manage to sink in to her terror-soaked brain, however. Why wasn't the droid hurting her?

Its grasp was firm, but not painful. As she lost the strength to keep fighting, her ears seemed to tell her that, perhaps, this wasn't a battle droid after all. Goose lay still, taking shuddering breaths of air while her heart hammered and her senses cleared. Her eyes slowly adjusted and the bright light was revealed to be coming from a long fluorescent tube set into the stark white ceiling above her. The dark figure of a battle droid instead became a harmless med droid.

Nonsense resolved itself into sense. Goose was in a medbay.

But not her medbay, she quickly realized. It was much too large, and the ceilings too high to have been on a ship. Although she felt an immediate, overwhelming relief, a multitude of questions flooded her mind at once, each more urgent than the last. Where was she? How did she get here…wherever here was? How long had she been out? Where were the others? Surely she could not have been the only one injured…or the only survivor. Most importantly, what the flaming frak had happened?

Her gaze was unfocused as she stared uncomprehendingly upward. Goose tried to remember exactly what had happened, how she had wound up here in this biobed, but couldn't. What memories she could dredge up were hazy and tinged with fear. Fragmented images of Teth, troopers, and explosions, just as she had seen in her fevered dreams, but nothing that she could string together into a coherent series of events.

She gradually realized the droid was still talking to her, explaining that she'd just woken from an induced coma, that disorientation was a normal side effect, and that she'd likely experience confusion for a little while longer. Goose's face pressed itself into a slight frown as she tried to organize her thoughts, to try to form words to ask the questions she burned to ask.

Goose started to talk, but had to stop and swallow the dry, sour stickiness in her mouth before any words came out.

"Where am I?" she rasped, voice a bit hoarse from disuse. Had she really been out so long?

"You are recovering in the Republic Central MedCenter, in the Senate District of Galactic City, Coruscant," the 2-1B answered a little primly.

The answer reassured her a bit. Coruscant was the safest place to be with a war on, as far as she knew. However, a closer look around the room told her that, indeed, this was certainly no military hospital. It was nicely furnished, complete with a small couch for visitors, a bedside table with a vase of (artificial) flowers, an en suite 'fresher, and a holo-screen across from the bed to watch the Holonet on. The question was, what was Goose doing in a civilian MedCenter?

"Why am I here?" Goose asked next.

The droid, of course, took the question literally. "You suffered massive trauma to the occipital region of the cranium, inflammation of subdural tissue, and fractured ribs, not to mention a considerable number of contusions, as well as mild malnutrition and dehydr–"

"No, I mean here, and not in a GAR medbay," she cut in with an edge of exasperation. Droids do have their uses, but Goose had never found conversation to be one of them.

If it were possible, the droid even seemed a little miffed it had been interrupted.

"Well," it continued somewhat curtly. "Your file says you were moved to this facility because the GAR base lacked the proper medical equipment for treating injuries such as yours. Nevertheless, it is quite an unusual situation, since this hospital has no agreement with the military to accept long-term patients."

"Long term?" Goose blurted, "How long have I been here, exactly?"

"After the initial operation performed by one of this facility's neurosurgeons, you have spent about two weeks healing in bacta, then another two days recuperating in this room."

"Sixteen days!" she nearly gasped. Goose had seen patients who'd been run over by hover trucks recover faster than that. "Why? Was there serious damage?"

"No, but it seems you awoke several times while in bacta treatment, and reacted rather violently. The physician assigned to your case decided it would be best if you were placed in a medically induced coma, both for your own safety and to help reduce your intracranial bleeding." Rather sardonic for a 2-1B, the med droid then added, "In hindsight, perhaps I should have expected your outburst when you regained consciousness."

She couldn't quite repress a feeling of dread, although physically she felt as well as could be expected, given the circumstances. Although Goose had no memory or waking up during bacta, that in and of itself was not the cause of her concern. The droid hadn't said it outright, but Goose knew that she wouldn't have been put into a coma had the swelling in her head not been severe. That either meant her hematoma had been worse than expected, or something had gone awry with the surgery.

"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?" Goose sighed, for a moment thinking she might be happier in life is she just stopped asking questions.

"Ah…well, there were some…complications," the med droid started reluctantly, but got the rest out more quickly once she shot it a warning look. "The surgeon who inserted the shunt to drain the intracranial fluid buildup may have…accidently performed the procedure in a manner that…did not conform to this facility's standards of surgical exactness."

In other words, these blasted city doctors had botched her operation.

"And?" she prompted tersely, half annoyed the droid was taking so long to spit it out and half terrified of what the answer would be. A dozen scenarios, each worse than the last, ran through her mind while she mentally checked that she still possessed all her faculties.

"Another hole had to be drilled for a secondary shunt, this time through the fractured region of the cranium in order to properly place the shunt, though as a result the fracture widened and the structural integrity of the bone was weakened. A durasteel plate was fused to the bone to provide stability and protect the damaged area once the shunt was removed," it continued cautiously. "It is no more than a few millimeters thick, however, and there is little chance you will ever notice it."

Goose sighed. The med droid had been sugarcoating it, which was probably just something programmed into its behavioral subroutine to comfort patients, but futile in the end since she understood perfectly what it was trying to avoid saying. The drilling into her skull had so weakened the bone that she would have a soft spot there almost like a newborn, except it would likely be permanent. It wasn't the durasteel plate itself that concerned her – it was the underlying damage. Head wounds could be tricky, and long term affects were impossible to foresee.

Reaching to touch the back of her head, Goose gingerly felt the bacta patch that covered the spot that still throbbed dully with each beat of her heart. She knew she was still tanked up on painkillers by the heaviness in her limbs, and it would be some time before she'd start to feel the metal plate. It also slowly dawned on her that the surgeon – whoever this laserbrained nerf herder was – had almost certainly had to shave her scalp in the back to put the plate in. On top of everything else, she'd be forced to sport a comb-over until it grew back in.

"That's all just fan-fripping-tastic," Goose groused, suddenly feeling a headache coming on.

"Of course, this is not a serious complication, and should not result in any issues later in life," the 2-1B added hastily.

It belatedly occurred to her that the MedCenter was probably afraid she'd try to sue over the surgeon's incompetence. In fact, Goose would have bet her last credit that was why she was talking to a droid at the moment, and not an organic nurse.

"Don't worry your logic circuits, I'm not interested in filing a malpractice lawsuit," she grumbled, but didn't mention that she wouldn't mind getting her hands around the neck of the rankweed sucker who had bungled her surgery.

For once, the med droid actually did not seem miffed with her response. "Ah, that is good. It is rare to find such a pragmatic organic these days. Most succumb so easily to hysterics."

Goose shot the droid a very pointed look, but it seemed not to have noticed. The 2-1B then started asking her a battery of questions, like if she was feeling dizzy or nauseous, whether she was having trouble forming new memories, and other things to assess her mental state. Then the med droid did a series of bio-scans and other diagnostic tests, like drawing a blood sample. All just standard medical procedure. The droid appeared satisfied, and Goose peeked over its durasteel shoulder to check that everything was within normal parameters.

"Have you any more concerns?" the med droid inquired, clearly ready to leave now that its work was done.

"Actually, do you have any idea where my battalion is? The 501st?" Goose asked a little slowly. It felt odd calling it her battalion, although she supposed by now that is what it was. "And…do you know anything about the outcome on Teth?"

If before there was any doubt that the med droid was getting annoyed with her constant questioning, there wasn't any anymore.

"I have notified you already that this facility has no partnership with the GAR, and as such I have no access to that kind of information." The 2-1B replied haughtily. If its vocabulator was capable of producing such a sound, it might have huffed as well. "I can only advise that you watch the holonet. Much of it is reporting on the war these days. Now, if you will excuse me, you are not my only patient and I must see to their care as well."

The dismissal had been plain. The med droid started to head for the door.

"Wait!" she called a little impulsively. "Is there any chance I can talk to an organic doctor?"

It wasn't that Goose didn't trust the droid's medical opinion – in fact she herself would not have done anything differently – she just really wanted to talk to another person.

"We are understaffed at this time, since many of the organic personnel have been conscripted for service in the GAR Medical Corps. However, you may set up an appointment if you wish, but it is not necessary. Your neural scans check out, so your course of treatment is over, and you will be discharged after another night of observation to ensure you are fully recovered," it answered condescendingly. "Now, if that is all?"

Goose nodded wordlessly, and the med droid made a quick exit. Once the door hissed shut behind it, she let out a long, slow sigh. Whether it was in relief or frustration even she couldn't quite tell. She sat up in bed, stretching out her limbs until her joints popped, and let out a groan as her muscles protested at being forced to move after so long in bacta. Still, it felt good just to get her blood circulating again.

Reaching over to the bedside table, she rummaged around in its drawers until she found the remote control unit to the holo-screen, and switched it on. The holo-emitter flickered to life, projecting the image of a portly humanoid woman, dressed in a garish shade of purple, grinning widely as she stood over a pot bubbling on a stove top.

"Now, remember that precision is very important in making Bilerat stew, and we do want to have a fine consistency, don't we? So follow this tempo: Stir, whip! Stir, whip! Whip, whip, stir! Stir, whip–"

With a snort of annoyance, she flipped through the channels looking for Holonet News and Entertainment. Four holonovelas, seven sports networks, a comedy channel, and another cooking show later, she finally came across the familiar HNE logo as it rushed across the screen, accompanied by its trademarked theme music. Much to her irritation, the program then went on a commercial break, and Goose was forced to sit through several minutes of advertisements selling everything from airspeeder insurance (Allworld: Are you in good grasping appendages?) to cosmetics (works on all skin tones in the visible and ultraviolet spectrums!)

After so many years without access to the holonet, the sudden barrage of flashing lights, toothy smiles, and inane jingles was at once overwhelming and incredibly obnoxious. Goose wondered how she had ever put up with all of this when she was younger. She fidgeted with impatience, absentmindedly twisting the sheets between her fingers

Finally, the show came back from the break, and a handsome male Mirialan news anchor appeared, announcing that the War Report was coming up soon, but that first there would be the hourly Traffic Update and Celebrity Spotlight segments. Goose gave a defeated moan and rubbed her forehead in frustration as the traffic droid came on and began explaining that rush hour traffic would be especially bad in sector H-46 that day, but the skylanes through the Factory District were empty.

Then the show transitioned to an interview with some actress, a Twi'lek female with obvious cosmetic enhancements wearing a fashionably cut, jewel-encrusted gown, who congratulated herself endlessly for donating to a charity dedicated to saving some species of endangered avian on Hosnian Prime. Knowing it would be a while, Goose turned down the volume and leaned back onto her pillows, rubbing her eyes to try to dispel her growing headache.

Her mind wasn't spinning quite so badly now as it was when she'd first woken up, and memories of Teth were coming back to her more clearly now. Not that she really wanted to remember it. Goose just hoped that soon she'd find out what had happened after she blacked out, and that it would quiet the growing fear that she was the sole survivor of what had once been Torrent Company.

Eventually, the interview with the preening celebrity ended and the main news anchor reappeared on the holo-screen. Goose turned the volume back up so she could hear what was coming.

"And now, for our daily War Report," said the Mirialan, as cheerfully as if he had just announced the ending of the war itself. "Coming to us from the planet Christophsis in the Outer Rim is reporter Kelya Reid."

The image of the news anchor faded away, to be replaced by that of a perky, pink-skinned Zeltron female smiling coquettishly at the holo-cam while standing in a rubble-strewn street.

"Good evening, Coruscant!" she greeted with bubbly enthusiasm. "As you can see, I am here on location in Chaleydonia, Christophsis. For those viewers who have been following this story, I am pleased to report that Republic forces have officially retaken the planet, and need only to defeat the few remaining pockets of Separatist resistance! In little more than two weeks, the Grand Army has followed up its easy reconquest of the capital city with a series of rapid victories, starting with the crystal forests of the southwestern hemisphere…"

She continued prattling along blithely about just how smashingly the war was going, but by that point Goose had stopped listening. That noodlefishing reporter had called the battle for Crystal City easy. Easy! By sheer luck alone they had barely managed to keep from being utterly annihilated, and even then it was at the cost of countless lives. Come to think of it, never once had the pretty young Zeltron mentioned a word about casualty counts.

Then the image cut away to a pre-recorded holovid while the reporter's voice continues to speak over it. There were a few shots of troopers marching off their transports or standing in formation, as well as a few action shots of clones shooting at retreating battle droids. But never did it show any explosions, or the droids shooting back, or any wounded or dead troopers. In short, it had nothing that would happen in a real war. Just a triumphant, faceless army.

Goose realized, with growing frustration, that everything in the recording was probably staged. In all likelihood, even the scenes showing troopers "fighting" were shot long after the battle had already ended, and the holo-cam crews had decided it was safe enough to get some footage of patrols mopping up the stragglers. Then the segment on Christophsis ended, and the show returned to the Mirialan, who gave an upbeat summary of the other campaigns in the Outer Rim.

From the living rooms on Coruscant, it must have seemed like a very clean war.

Another obnoxiously bright-colored advertisement started playing, and Goose switched off the holo-emitter in disgust. Her chest tightened with impotent rage at what she had just seen. The whole war was treated like some little sideshow. It had been so clean, so sanitized – and not a single word about all the men who had given their lives – nor any mention of Teth or the deal with the Hutts. Did that mean that their mission had been a failure in the end? Should there not be at least some sort of a memorial for the loss of an entire company?

What was the meaning of this war, anyway, if the citizens the GAR was protecting cared more about vainglorious celebrities than the lives of the soldiers kept them safe from Separatist attack?

She clenched her jaw in anger, roughly kicking off her sheets and struggling to her feet. Her legs felt weak from disuse, but they supported her weight nonetheless. Goose paced the small room restlessly, cursing that there was nothing she could do, and no one to talk to. But what would she do, what would she say, if she could? She stopped pacing and sighed with a sudden, bone-wearying exhaustion. She had no idea.

It seemed she had no idea about anything anymore. Sighing again, Goose stepped over to the small window on the far wall, tugging open the curtain. It was stiff and very dusty, as if it hadn't been opened in years. Before her was, even in her foul mood, a breathtaking view. Glittering spires crowded the skyline, so tall they seemed to touch the sky and at the same time reach all the way into the planet's core. Speeders, hovercabs, and crafts of every description zipped by at startling speeds in the bustling skylanes.

For a while, she stared transfixed at the myriad of flashing lights and color emanating from the teeming metropolis that was spread out before her. At the fantastic spectacle that was Coruscant. She had never seen it in person before, and as a girl she had once dreamed of visiting the Republic's glamorous capital. It was all so much more impressive, so much more jaw-droppingly big, than she had ever thought it could be.

But as Goose stood there, staring out at a city-world of trillions, she realized that she had never felt so alone.


A/N: Hello again, dear readers! It has been, well, about four month since I last updated. Now that it's summer, however, I will hopefully (although I don't want to make promises I can't keep) be able to write more often. In the meantime, I thank you for your patience and hope you enjoyed this chapter!