Chapter 3

Hello, everyone, I hope you are all doing great. Please excuse my lengthy update time, life has gotten the best of me, but I will continue to write. Please read and Review, your generosity is greatly appreciated. And without much further adue.

On with the show.

"You say you love your life? Prove it. Fight for it. For if you don't. You die."

Lord Revan

First Taste of Combat

Arran felt the shock of cold water hit him again. He lifted his hair back over his head once again, and reached down into the sink. He scooped up the liquid again and threw it into his face. Arran shook himself again and turned around.

His mind kept replaying the events, he had saved her, thank the force. Grimmy had returned as promised, with the new blood, taken from some hotshot kid playing pazaak. Arran had entered the blood into the machine, it had reformed chemically, and then been injected into her. It should be fine now; well, good enough.

DoubleD had had enough as well. Arran had Avery take him out, back to the tent. Hadn't woken up, but hey, Arran had seen this all before. The new scrubs, coming in just before the war casualties had. Poor kids, didn't stand a chance. Gore and wounds like that weren't something you could just ease into, and they definetly weren't something you could see all at once. Seems the only way you actually can take it, is if you're a certain type of person. At least someone here was.

"Trent wants to see you." Arran whipped around to see Avery standing by the door. Didn't like that guy, Arran thought to himself, something about him bugged the hell out of him. Arran pulled his shirt on and got his helmet out of his locker.

"Who?

"Doctor Trent, he wants to see you in tent four."

"Fine," Arran took out his rifle and stared into the dark locker at the med sack. He turned and walked towards the door, Avery moving out of the way and taking his shoulder.

"Watch out, Trent's a bitch."Arran turned again and exited the tent.

The huimidity hit him like a wall, invading all his senses as the pure heat made him start to sweat already. He walked towards second squads tent, grimacing in uncomfort. He was reaching for the zipper when he heard voices from inside the tent. He stopped and stood, pressing his ear to the door. He couldn't place the voices.

He caught onto the conversation, it was a man, probably human, and a woman, human too. He was speaking fluent basic, but Arran couldn't place the accent, same story with the female. It was muffled, but he could just make out some of the words.

"… hear there is a lot of aliens, sure … trust them? I mean, we're … battle with them, I like to … people … I fight with them." The woman was talking. It seemed that they were the ones from Third Squad. He heard the man start talking again,

"Raen, no way that Sarge would place us with a new squad. Come on, I trust Scream, do you?"

"Whatever Ulgo," she started to laugh, "If I get shot, I'm coming straight after you."

Arren leaned in to hear more when a hand landed on his shoulder. He jerked backwards, spinning and seeing Anak standing there.

"Damnit Anak," Arran muttered under his breath, turning to listen to the conversation.

"Whats wrong with you?" Anak said, stepping around Arran to the door. "What are you doing?"

Arran turned again, "Listening, whats it look like?" he put his ear to the wall again as Anak started to open the door.

"Hey, why aren't supposed at the obstacle course? You know, with the rest of us?" Arran questioned.

"Why aren't you?"

"I," Arran said, "just got out of surgery."

Anak shrugged and started towards the door, "Well, why aren't you?" Arran asked again.

"Simple, I'm the son of an Onderonian aristocrat. We just don't do obstacle courses." Anak opened the door.

"Are you?"

Anak laughed and slapped his thigh, finding this hilarious. "What the hell do you think?" He said as he walked into the tent. Arran couldn't place that guy, he was shifty, and it seemed he could talk his way out of anything. He was going to go far.

Arran stood, realizing he couldn't take meeting some new people now, so reasoned he should go meet Trent. Trent seemed, as Avery put it, to be a bitch. He was a seasoned vet, fighting out of the med unit. He was a doctor, great one really, but no one liked him. Arran walked towards med tent.

The med tent wasn't a tent at all, it was metal, thin metal, but metal none the less. As he walked in, it was quite open, about twelve beds in a row, with four rows. Only about three of the beds were occupied currently, with non-serious injuries. One man had a bandage on his forearm, and the next had his hand wrapped with thick kolto patches.

The third was the woman.

Arran was about to make his way over, to check on her, when a nurse walked out from behinda screen. She was dressed in a surgical outfit, and blood covered her hands. She walked straight to Arran.

"Take off my gloves," she told him. Arran took a step towards her, reached down her arms and removed the bloody gauntlets. The woman reached up and undid her apron tie, then ripped off the mask. The name tag said she was Dr. McKaasan.

McKaasan looked to be about in her late forties. She was tall, just shorter than Arran. He was slightly heavy, and it seemed like she was in charge already. Arran decided he was going to figure her out.

"Who are you?" She asked as she walked amongst the beds, making her way towards the back. Arran found he was supposed to follow.

"Arran Gunnar, Class Medic, Second Squad." He rattled off, he had lots of practice saying it while he was back at boot, and on his way here.

"Well," she said, picking up a clipboard, and started checking some boxes, and leaving some blank, "Gunnar, I don't care how you got here, but you're here now, and it's all your fault."

"What?" Arran asked, puzzled.

"Well, unless you came from north Dantooine," she stopped abruptly and turned, as Arran slammed on the brakes and had to catch his balance.

"But you don't look, nor sound the part, so you're volunteer fighter," she took off again, causing Arran to follow again.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arran asked incredulously.

"Absolutely nothing," She said, checking some more boxes, "Why are you here?"

"In the army?"

"No, you idiot, in this tent."

"I was told to meet Trent." McKaasan turned and looked him once over for the first time. "Why the hell would you want to meet Trent?"

"I did the surgery on her," Arran said, pointing to the woman on the bed in front of them.

"Oh, that was you?" she said. "OK work, but you're going to need to work on your speed." She paused for a second and then started off again. "But hey, shes still alive."

Arran stopped at a door, with a large lock on it. McKaasan pulled on the lock and it opened. She took it off the door, and opened the door.

Trent sat at the only desk in the entire room. There were little windows at the top of the room, and the rest of it was a complete mess. Medical holocrons were spread all of the floor, and the completely filled the shelves on the wall. He had his feet on the desk, and was currently balancing a tall pole on his right forefinger. His hands were swaying back and forth.

McKaasan opened her mouth to speak, as Trent shoved a hand in the air cutting her off.

"Hold on, hold on," he said as he kept it going. The pole went to the right, as he overcompensated, making it fall and slam onto the metal desk causing a loud clash. Both Arran and the nurse jolted.

"Damnit." Trent took his feet off the table and sat forward. "Hey, Mickey, nice catch," he said looking Arran up and down, "he's cute."

"Shut up Trent, this is the guy who did the work on..." She lifted a board out from the others she was carrying, "Naomi Cilesst Ordoek,"

Trent grinned, as he began to laugh, "Ordoek, as in Ordoek Ordoek?"

McKaasan's eyes scanned up and down the sheet. "Yes."

Trent let out a large grin. "Did you do a good job?"

Arran looked at Mickey who looked back, motioning with her head for him to answer. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Trent looked Arran up and down, seemingly sizing him up before turning to Mickey. He dropped his jaw, and opened his eyes as wide as Arran thought he could. Trent stared at Mickey, causing her to look up from the pad she was feverishly writing on.

"Why are you staring at me?" Mickey asked in a suspicious voice.

"Why are you still here?" Trent said bluntly. Mickey huffed, put away the pad and turned, grabbing Arran's shoulder, wished him luck, and stormed out of the room.

"Oh, cutie!" Trent said, looking straight at Arran, who pointed to himself.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," Trent said as Mickey appeared from behind and closed the door. "So…" Trent said as he spun around in the hover chair he was currently sitting in.

"What happened?"

Arran looked forward, and rolled off the account, stab wounds, indicating close quarters battle, curved Corellian intercepter blade showing motive for the crime.

"Corellian Interceptor, wow," Trent said as his eyes opened exceedingly wide in false excitement. "You only use one of those on someone you really don't like. Like really, really don't like. Like really really." Trent said as he rose. He picked up a fat, tall binder off his desk, slamming the stick onto the desk, making Arran jump again.

Trent walked forward to Arran, almost face to face. Arran felt slightly uncomfortable as Trent slowly looked towards the roof. Arran followed his eyes up to the roof and found nothing. Trent viciously shoved him out of the roof and the door shut before Arran discovered what happened.

Trent's a bitch.

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Arran sat quietly, only listening to the low rumbling and groaning of the transport. The transport hit a bump again and the helmet fell off Avery's head again. Avery woke, again, and picked it up muttering to himself. Arren looked to his left, at the two members from Third Squad who were forced to tag along in Second's transport. He looked down again. His fingers were twitching, fiddling in, out and around each other. He knew it looked crazy, but he couldn't stop. He was quite sure he was going crazy.

Second, Third and the 12th squads were currently moving east, out of Iziz across the rolling hills of Onderon to deliver relief supplies to the border. Then to the Trenches. It was not a specific border on a map, but it was the border between pressing Mandalorian forces and the Republic soldiers. So far, we were holding them back. Arran grunted to himself. So far.

They had saved her: the woman. Grimmy had returned as promised with blood which Arran had transfused to fill the woman's veins again. He thought back at what he had done. He had saved her. That's why he was a doctor. What was Trent's deal? On the other hand, DoubleD had not spoken since, in the five days since then. Not to anyone. Arran had thought about it, but had decided not to send him to the encampment's psycologist. There were other people with bigger problems, besides, Arran had diagnosed the problem as Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Shellshock as Doctor Robbins has said as they were taking the woman away.

The woman. Arran thought about her a lot, couldn't get her face out of his head. It had happened before, after saving someone, but more often when they died. It stayed with him for a few days, then left him. He was waiting for it to leave, but he couldn't stop thinking about how she was in the transport next to their's.

Five days ago on her death bed, now in her tomb.

The woman had a name. It was Naomi. Naomi Cilesst Ordoek. Naomi. He thought it about it, saying it under his breath when a new companion shook him from his thoughts. Arran glanced up at him.

He was old, easily in his mid-forties. Grey hair dotted all over his head, as he donned a very military clean cut style hair. He was built, more so than Arran himself, and he was tall, only a small bit shorter and Arran, yet taller than Anak. He bore some scars of war on his arms, Arran had seen them while they loaded supplies onto the transports. From what Arran could gather from his files, He was in the Pilotting buisness. Flying and battling above other's heads in giant machines, but those times had ended. It didn't say why, but he was here now. Arran liked him.

"Nothing Trask," Arran said, looking past him to Third squad's medic. Now she, was young.

Raen was very young, only barely 18 maybe. Probably younger. She was a human as well, but darker than Avery. She had clean cut hair as well, and was tall. Tall as Trask, and taller than Anak, who had stopped commenting on her good looks after Trask had had a chat with Anak. Arran liked her as well.

But, as Arran had said, she was very young. He had talked to her quite a bit in the infirmary and they had become some sort of riends. Buisness friends. Co-workers. Arran was scared for her, what was going to happen to her, how she was going to change in this place. She was just a kid, a fresh face, Arran was just a kid, but hell, she was a kid.

She looked worried, and was biting her nails, a habit that drove the other doctors up the wall. She stopped and smiled at Arran, he smiled back and returned to his position, leaning back on the wall gazing across at Grimmy and Mia, who, no matter what situation somehow seemed to look like a couple. DoubleD's face was contorted into deep thought, like it always was, and Anak was listening to his music player.

They all looked relaxed. Hey, it was a relaxed mission. They were moving East, out of Iziz to the Dok trenches. After we delivered all the relief supplies, we deal with the Mandalorians who were invading from smaller outposts in the area. Then, they were to evacuate them all, and wait for a full-force assault. But that was all deep into the future. Right now, all they had to do, was to get the supplies there, and meet Sgt. Sveless.

From the reports this guy had, it appeared he was a psychopath. Textbook. He had twenty-two medals under his belt, and he had not shown up for the ceremonies on any occasion. Only one type of soldier does that. A man who just cares to fight.

With all these medals, his slate was far from clean. He had been repremanded many a time for almost everything. In fact, he should have been kicked out, but the republic needed everyone they could get their hands on.

A high pitched whistle was getting lower and stirred everyone. The group turned to Avery. He looked around at all the pairs of eyes gazing back. He smiled. "Boom," he said as the whistle ended. Followed by a loud explosion.

The transport swerved, as everyone on the left side slid out of their seats onto the floor, or onto those on the right side. Arran looked around coolly, no one was injured. Anak threw his player down and had his weapon in the ready position, as D, seemed just about as uninterested as Avery, who was now on his radio.

Grimmy and Mia picked themselves up as Grimmy yelled at Avery.

"What's going on?"

"Shutup," Avery screamed back, his hand over the mike as he turned back to the radio. He seemed finished hung up the mike, and turned back to the group. "They're only from the line, don't worry."

"Isn't that where we're going?" Anak asked increduously.

Avery's eyes opened up wide as he smiled again.

"Yep."

Trask turned as everyone was resuming their previous positions. He sat Raen back into her seat, like a father would to a daughter. He pushed her head back, securing the helmet on her head. He nodded, as he moved back, Raen's now pale face came into view.

Poor Kid.

"Listen." Another whistle, this time louder, started up as another one was ending, shaking the earth and everyone in the hold. Another explosion, louder this time.

Avery stood and opened up the small door that led to the cockpit, instead of going to the drivers, he grabbed the small ladder that led to the gun port. He sat there for a second, looking out and ducked back in.

"Don't worry, they sound closer than they really are." He stood back up.

"Shi-!" He screamed as another explosion landed and the transport was thrown to the right. The rest was cut short as Avery stopped talking and was blown back into the iron walls around him. He slammed into the unforgiving platfrom, as Arran rose from his seat. Trask got up before Arran and jumped into the gun port. The unmistakeable sound of the laser rang out as Trask let out a few beams.

Grimmy and Mia had risen as Anak and D had their launchers loaded and ready. Arran was readying the injections as Raen was opening her pack, and unloading the injections.

The passanger driver turned. They grabbed onto the two holds at the top of the door.

"Get ready, we're under attack!" With that Trask dropped from his port, and readied his rifle at the door. With the port closed, everything went quiet. The rumbling had stopped, and only Raen and Arran's voices cut the air with varied statements of 'Hold on', and 'Pass this.'

Eerie silence permeated everything. Nothingness filled everything and no one dared to break the quiet, for in it they were safe.

Nothingness.

Silence.

They heard some tapping on the other side of the blast door as something clicked and the doors shot open into a field of anarchy.

The sound started to rise as the doors were widening, and continued to grow, as Anak launched himself from the door, D right behind. The team poured out from the back the commandos immediately letting loose a few missiles that hit varying targets. Arran tourniqued off Avery's arm, which had a large piece of shrapnel protroding from it. He turned and pointed to the wall, hitting his own fist as Raen took the two steps it took and ripped the stretcher from the wall. Arran hooked his arms under Avery's and lifted as Raen did the same with his feet. The lifted him up as the ran from the transport to the metal lining that was serving as a trench for second squad and Trask.

The three reached the rest of their team as Trask yelled for headcount. Everyone replied and Arran thanked the force. They turned and looked to Trask, who had lain his rifle onto the top of the barricade and was raining fire onto the Mandalrians who had cut off the convoy.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled as he turned to the rest. He paused staring at them. "Shoot!"

Arran rose above the dark grey wall, and opened fire, watching as the many colored beams of energy ripped through the air, each fired at a different target. He stopped firing, dropping down, realizing his gun was over-heated. He turned, putting his back to the wall, as he heard Anak scream out incoming. The group dropped as a missile hissed by, missing the top of the barricade by mere millimeters. It tore off into the woods, where it landed, and a few trees fell.

Arran turned his wide eyes, from the woods, to Avery who was lying on the stretcher just below. He was still lights out, and they needed to get him out. Damnit.

He spun, and stood peering over the top at the battle field infront. The Mandalorians were pouring out from the woods at the top of a ridge across from them. To the right, there was road, which was bare of any cover. All five transports where currently disabled, as second squad, paired with Trask and Raen sat the furthest back on the field. Only a couple of metres infront, sat third squad. Naomi with them. On the right, two other squads had gathered with a few mechanics who they were also transporting to the line. Far, far up ahead there was another group of about four, who had lost two more, and were firing desperately, as they turned and ran back towards third squads makeshift cover.

The Mandalorians fought mercilessly, beams taking down the entire group of those returning to cover. Arran looked to the right, seeing two medics of the gathered squads treating some wounded as the others seemed to be holding back the assault. He then turned looking at who was left. D sat the furthest, on the far right. He was reloading and firing the small rockets he had with him, taking out a few enemies coldly, and methodically. Anak was setting up his heavy repeater. Mia had the bi-pod set up, and was strategically taking out Mandalorians as Grimmy had put down his binocs, in favour for his rifle. Raen sat, her back up against the metal, breathing heavily.

Arran turned and looked over the barricade again, and then dropped down before firing, a stream of beams burning through the air were his head was seconds ago. He realized Mia was taking more desperate shots, unable to stay with her rifle due to the lack of time she had. Arran had an idea.

"Mia!" Arran yelled as Mia and Grimmy both turned. "Move back!" He pointed to the woods. Mia struck in her bipod as Grimmy grabbed her arm and made for the cover of trees, only about 25m back.

Arran rolled and looked down for third squad, only realizing they didn't have a medic. Their Sgt turned and caught Arrans eyes, telling him with his hands they were moving back. Arran nodded, and turned back to his squad.

"Get ready, everyone lay down cover fire, they're coming back now!"

They all nodded, and simultaneously dropped, fully loading. They rose again and unleashed all the had. Arran screamed at the top of his lungs, letting loose all his gun could fire as third squad made their frantic break back to haven. Arran dropped, his hands burning. He ignored this and rolled as a boot narrowly missed his face, Sgt hitting the ground as their commandos set up and Arran sat up.

"Anyone hurt?" he asked Sgt. Sgt took a knee and pointed out and over the bunker,

"There."

Arran followed his hand, his heart dropping as two bodies lay in the grass. One face down, a man, the other Naomi, who lay on her back, seemingly trying to remove her back pack.

What happened next, was near inexplicable. Arran felt hot, his heart started to pound. He heard it beating, churning out blood as it blocked out all other sounds. His blood boiling, he felt intense, unexpicable inferno, and had to move to rid himself of the burning in his veins. He grabbed a man from third squad and pointed over the barricade to the bodies.

"Now!" Arran screamed as the man nodded in recognition.

Arran broke over the metal structure, his eyes only on one thing, her body. He heard the beams narrowly missing his head, as well as the missle which whined by his new-found partner who had one hand holding his gun, the other on his helmet.

Arran ran as fast as he could, but the boiling didn't let up, the burning still there in his veins. He yelled out in rage as he pushed himself harder, leaving the man behind. He reached the injured soldier first, and immediately stopped and took his pulse. Nothing. He turned and ran a finger over his neck at the partner who was just reaching him.

Arran rose from his knee and took off again, gunning right for Naomi. He saw the dust raise towards him and he jumped without even thinking about it. The beam missed him, but he came crashing to the ground, sliding to a halt just short of Naomi. He rose again, and felt a shooting pain from his ankle, which he ignored and finally reached his target.

Arran looked over her again, and saw the hole on her lower right abdomen. Just to the left of the stab wound. He reached for his injections as she turned her head again, raising her foot and catching Arran on the side of his face again. He rolled onto his side and tucked her right arm under him as he mounted her again. He fumbled for the injection, as she tried to force him off her. He dropped one needle, watching the tip break off. He reached down and caught a bright light out of the corner of his eye.

Shit, he thought to himself, as he grabbed her lapelles and rolled the the right, a missle grazing her back as he pulled her ontop and continued over in a full roll. She took this oppurtunity to throw a knee, which missed it's intended target and landed onto Arran's thigh. She threw another hook which Arran blocked and slid and grabbed Naomi's lower jaw with. He pulled her face up to his, as her eyes opened wide, and her pupils dilated.

"Stop!" He yelled has he dropped her head and she lay back. She fought no more, and Arran jabbed the needle into her and applied the patch. Arran backed up off of her and she went to stand, falling back over as slid his arms around her, lifting into a medical carry. He tapped the new accomplice on the shoulder to indicate them leaving, but even the slight tap was enough to push over the lifeless body. Arran got up.

He ran, as fast as he could, legs pumping, arms burning AHH. The inferno inside of him driving him nearly insane, he screamed again, seeking only temporary relief as they made their was back to the trench. Arran jumped the trench and dropped Naomi lightly onto one of the medbeds. He tapped Raen on the shoulder, as she was working on another patient. He nodded in recognition. And turned to Naomi. She was stable.

Arran stood and the fire was still their. He knew what he had to do now. Kill. Murder. Hunt. Destroy.

He rose above the trench and just gazed for one second, his vision focusing faster, more accurately. He fired, taking down a Mandalorian. Another. Another. Another. He couldn't stop, he was firing faster now, as fast as he could. One shot, one hit. Again. Again.

Kill.

Murder.

Hunt.

Destroy.

Arran didn't even hear the telltale whine and low whistle, nor Anak's yell of take cover. No they were drained out by the blood boiling through his veins. So when the explosion blinded him, picked him up, tossed him back. He didn't realized it. He didn't recognize it. There was only one thing. Blackness.