Entry Two – Days after Geonosis, Seven
A week has passed since Geonosis. The initial chaotic flurry seems to have run its course, and we have begun to settle in to the new grinding reality of conflict. Diagnosis made, the treatment begins, though it promises to be long and painful. It seems the entirety of the Republic faces reorganization in order to prosecute this struggle. The Senate remains fractious, but the Supreme Chancellor's office has unleashed a storm of new directives and regulations via his emergency authority. It is slightly disturbing to see one man exercise influence to this degree, but I confess that without such unified authority the Republic might be paralyzed in the face of the Separatist threat. So far the Chancellor has not issued any orders to the Council, but there have been a number of strong suggestions. As of this morning it seems his office finally recalled the existence of those of us in the Service Corps.
Many of my friends are to be dispatched to the front, sent off to serve aboard medical frigates or staff vast medical clearing centers. Over half have been called up in this way, sent to face the endless demands of the war wounded, and I suspect there will be more to come. The overwhelming majority of our ongoing projects have been canceled indefinitely. My medicine adaptation trials are among them. Inevitable I suppose, as the Mid and Outer Rim worlds where testing was intended to begin later this month are now in the hands of the enemy.
The enemy. Strange, I have already begun to think of so much of the galaxy in that way, defined them apart from me and all I know. Surely most of them desired war no more than I did, but it seems we are now divided. Not until one side has been shattered, all dreams of triumph crushed, shall that gulf be bridged; perhaps not even then.
No dispatch orders to join the army have come for me. Supposedly this was a medical decision. The army is made up of clones, all based on a single human male genetic template. My specialty is the adaptation of medicines and treatments across species lines, and apparently this was considered a poor match. I do not think the person who made this decision understood that in order to adapt a treatment designed for humans one must first obtain an understanding of human biology, but I find myself without any inclination to contest this decision. The prospect of endlessly operating on men bred in bottles purely to fight holds little appeal, there is something decidedly mechanical about the idea, more maintenance than medicine. Truthfully, identical as they are, the clones will face few problems droids cannot handle faster and with greater precision than living hands could. This may be for the best.
Despite this, the task that has fallen to me is not one I approach without considerable trepidation. I have been asked to take over a long-standing mission in the Coruscant Underworld, all the way down on level 1314. It seems the Order has for many years tasked one of its members with maintaining a presence there, providing humanitarian aid, keeping watch on criminal syndicates, liaising with the underworld police, and searching out new force sensitives. Traditionally this posting has been staffed by a Jedi Knight, but it seems the demands of the war effort have pushed the responsibility down the chain several steps.
Truthfully I was surprised this outpost was not entirely abandoned, but Master Rancisis spoke to me himself regarding the importance of this mission. He also appended an additional parameter. It seems that a widespread belief exists that a significant portion of Coruscant's underworld populace harbors Separatist sympathies. This seems rather ridiculous to me, why would residents of the capital world support those who would happily bombard it to slag? Though I suppose seeds may sprout in the strangest of places, and the population of Coruscant is such that even a tiny proportion represents a large absolute number. There is also the possibility, grim though it is to consider, that a long-term planner like Dooku may have seeded the underworld with sleeper agents in preparation for this conflict.
I do not like the idea of serving as an informant, even for a good cause. A doctor is meant to preserve confidentiality with her patients. That the Supreme Chancellor has rescinded that legal mandate in the case of 'treasonous affiliations' comforts me not. A line of new doctrine does not drive away long-cultivated instinct, nor will I ever acquiesce to viewing my patients as potential enemies. I will not.
Hopefully it will not matter. The purpose of this mission makes my position clear, and surely no one would be foolish enough to confess such associations to a Jedi, even if only one of the Medical Corps.
It is said that the underworld hosts an endless diversity of sapient species, some of whom have never been recorded anywhere else in the galaxy; origins lost to time. Even assuming this is moderately exaggerated, I suspect the myriad forms will be more than enough to occupy my attention. I can only hope my presence will be welcomed so many levels down. In my experience doors tend to open for healers, but I worry war will change that. I must seek to prevent isolation from claiming me, for with the Order's attention consumed by conflict, I do not think there will be much help from above.
Notes
Very little is known about the role of the Jedi Service Corps during the Clone Wars. Supposedly they were militarized over time, which makes sense given what happened to the Jedi Order as a whole, but there are no details. It seems reasonable to assume many members of the Medical Corps were directly attached to the GAR in a medical role. I have exempted Nema for my own reasons, though "Voices" establishes that she was on Coruscant for at least a portion of the war.