The first part of a two-part translation of one of my texts. Enjoy your reading and leave a review !
Survive
They were not going to survive, Jyn thought as she fell onto Scarif's fine sand. She admitted it easily. Already, the wave of death and devastation could be seen on the horizon. At this moment, she was happy that her father was already gone. He would have died of sorrow if he had known that his creation had killed his daughter. The young woman suddenly understood that her father had died in peace, despite his injuries, because he had seen her and knew that his message had been heard. Jyn was ready to die too. She had regrets (so much that she could have done, that she should have said) but she knew that what she had done here on Scarif was good. She had done well, perhaps for the first time in her life. She held Cassian, strangely serene. He returned her embrace and they silently stared at the wave of debris that was going to submerge them. Already the dust drowned them in a sinister fog. They could not see the sea or the sky anymore. They were in the middle of the devastation and it was the last landscape they would ever see.
The noise was already so loud that they nearly didn't hear the engine sound above their heads. The two rebels straightened at the same moment and hope sprang back into their hearts, in spite of themselves. The Imperials were not the kind of people to look for survivors in the middle of their flight. It was the rebellion.
They didn't know how, but they found the strength to straighten up and scream to be spotted. The dust they swallowed made them cough, forcing them to only make large gestures. Fortunately, it was enough. A small black shuttle hovered just above the ground at a short distance. They ran, terrified and in agony, supporting one another. Jyn stumbled into the sand, a few feet away from the shuttle, and Cassian fell with her, screaming to death. They were already exhausted and the wind was getting stronger and carried dangerous debris. They could not get up. They had to crawl and cling to the loading ramp to get on board. Jyn barely managed to do it, but Cassian was running out of strengh. His hands couldn't grasp the metal railing and he couldn't push the rest of his body over it. Big hands finally grabbed his shoulders and lifted him on board. Baze was covered with blood and burns, but he still found the strength to push a button to raise the ramp. He yelled at the pilot to clear off and only then he allowed himself to faint, sliding slowly along the metal wall.
Bodhi, mentally prayed Jyn, let the pilot be Bodhi, but all her energy was gone. She wanted to move to check but her legs were shaking too much to do it. She closed her eyes and sank into unconsciousness, just after Cassian.
The shuttle sheered but it did not manage to pull them from their deathlike sleep, even though they were propelled from one end of the cabin to the other. It took one of those strident sirens that the empire loved so much to get Cassian out of his torpor. He refused to listen to his body begging him to stay still and pull himself up to look around him. Jyn lay inanimate, her face cover with blood. She wasn't like that when they boarded. He himself felt a monumental bump rise behind his head, thanks to the barrels made by the shuttle during his unconsciousness. Baze was just as still as Jyn and rested in his own blood, perhaps dead. Only one passenger had been spared the wounds and bumps of the take-off and it was Chirrut. Baze had seated and tied him before their escape from Scarif, but he did not look any better than his companion. His face was covered in dried blood and both men smelled of burnt flesh and blood. In a corner rested the carcass of K2. Cassian could not even imagine how he had managed to leave the tower with the holes in his steel thorax.
All needed urgent help. Cassian would have liked to have the time and energy to search for a rescue kit. He could not even afford the time to check that they were still breathing. It was much more urgent to deal with this alarm. Reluctantly, the captain left them to limp toward the ladder and get up into the cockpit. His left leg was threatening to collapse under him at every step. Each inspiration became painful with his broken ribs. He had one broken, maybe two. It wasn't important now.
The cabin too smelled of blood and burned flesh. Cassian did not know what happened on Scarif's beach while Jyn, K2 and he were investing the tower, but it was probably a miracle if their companions were still alive. If they were. The captain found Bodhi Rook half-collapsed on the controls. His tattered jacket clung to his bloody back. Through the shuttle's window, Cassian could see a planet he was familiar with. The good news was that Hoth was uninhabited and imperials never went there. The Alliance was thinking of setting up a base there one day or another. Unfortunately, they were very far from Yavin IV and there was currently no rebel presence on Hoth.
Hearing Cassian entering the cabin, the pilot raised his head.
"Make a leap to the blind," he explained in a pasty voice. "No more propulsion, the engines are dead. And there was damage on the takeoff, maybe cracks in the durasteel. Don't know if we have much air left. We need help, quickly."
The communications were on the co-pilot's side, too far for Bodhi to reach them without getting up. He probably did not have the strength, hence the alarm. Cassian stepped forward and collapsed, moaning, on the chair while Bodhi deactivated the alarm. He was not familiar with this type of ship and questioned Bodhi. With one hand, the pilot pointed to the commands to be activated successively. Cassian could see a bone protruding through the wounds and blisters of his hand. Cassian left this problem aside and concentrated on entering his Alliance passcodes.
At first, no one answered him. Cassian tried not to panic. All lines must be occupied because of the Battle of Scarif. Fortunately, he had another code, a priority one. He was supposed to use it only for vital and urgent strategic news, but after what they had done for the rebellion, without being sure of being followed and helped, Cassian found that Rogue One was a vital and urgent problem for the rebellion. They deserved the help. He typed the second code.
This time, a slight sizzle echoed through the room. Cassian grabbed the microphone, shaking, and recited his identification codes.
"This is Rogue One," he explained next. "We need urgent help, many injured, transport unusable. We are in stationary orbit above Hoth. I repeat, we need urgent help."
As a precaution, he repeated the message twice and at last heard a very weak "receive" above static noise. Relieved, he dropped back into the chair and sank into unconsciousness again, knowing that he would not come out of it again. That was the end for him. All he could hope was that his call had been sent in time to save at least one of his companions.
If the Force was real, it owed it to them.
Chirrut is the first to wake up, briefly, when someone put his bruised body on a stretcher. Around him, everything becomes a frenzy but the Guardian is at peace. He feels the Force all around him and the presence of his friends. It's with a smile that he lets himself go again.
Baze is woken up in medical transport by an immense pain in his arm and shoulder. He hears a high-pitched sound in his ears and not much else. He cannot open his eyes. Too much blood stuck to his eyelids. Two pairs of arms hold him down and he thinks that's it, the empire found them and begins to torture them as it tortured his brothers, as it tortured Chirrut. They will break him this time, and Jyn and Cassian and annihilate what remains of Bodhi. Baze screams and struggles but is firmly held in place by his shoulders. He knocks with his head and hears a painful crunch. He broke the nose of one of his torturers at least. Someone screams to increase the dose. Soon, Baze is motionless again and the doctors go back to their painful task.
Cassian does not have this chance. The Alliance requires a report on the events of Scarif, their information on the battle being at best fragmented. Doctors have dozens of questions to ask about the causes of each team member's injuries. When Cassian awakes during the transport, they begin to question him. He receives just enough analgesics to keep the pain at a distance and has to bear the sight of the wounds of others. He will never forget Baze's screams. He ends the trip in confusion, too dazed by pain and medicine to understand what Mon Mothma is telling him when she shakes his hand just after landing. When he is pushed into the infirmary and sees the bacta tanks, he bursts into tears.
Bodhi is kept severely sedated during most of the trip but the medical team underestimated the amount of equipment they needed to take care of Rogue One. Reluctantly, the doctors gradually lower the sedative dose of each patient before arrival. The shock of the landing awakens Bodhi. He stammers "I am the pilot" in a loop until a doctor sedates him at the entrance of the operating room.
Jyn does not wakes up.
The base infirmary is in turmoil as soon as the rescue ship lands. The Alliance has urgently assembled some of its best doctors usually The infirmary at the base is in turmoil as soon as the rescue ship lands. The Alliance has urgently reunited some of its best doctors scattered usually in secret bases in the four corners of the galaxy. Usually, bacta, dressings and medicine are severely rationed, because they never know if they'll be reprovisioned, but this time the Alliance is generous with its resources. She needs heroes too much.
Even so, it is almost too late for the five survivors of Scarif when they are brought into the infirmary. Twenty hours pass, twenty hours of operations and long baths of bacta before a doctor announced to the council of the Alliance they have a chance to survive. The board almost congratulates itself, as if its members were themselves responsible for the survival of Rogue One. They already speak of rewards, medals, and ask themselves if their action may convince some reluctant people to join the Alliance. The doctor then adds with blatant disregard for their politic that they should not already be thinking to exhibit these heroes on a podium. They are not awake and there is no guarantee that they will be able to fully recover. There are too many possible complications.
Cassian is finally the first to open his eyes in the sickbay, a few hours after coming out of the bacta tank for the second time. It seems to him that his body is only sores and wounds. Every breath is painful. He tries to move to reawaken his sore muscles but stops when he realizes the pain that causes in his left leg. In disbelief, he realizes that all this pain means he is alive and safe. It's early morning on Yavin IV but when they see him move, all the medical staff run toward him. The chief doctor, a middle-aged twi'lek ends up chasing her subordinates to check on him in silence. Cassian lets her do her job, not awake enough to protest. Besides, he knows Dr. Nankusa well enough to know that it's useless to try to escape her complete diagnosis and that he will have no answer before she's done.
Internally, his blood boils with impatience. His condition doesn't matter to him, all he wants to know is if his brothers in arms are alive.
"How are you feeling?" ask the doctor when she's done.
"I've seen worse", he admits, "but not much."
"I imagine. Three broken ribs, some burns related to blaster impacts, a slight head injury and a lung perforation... The list is long. I read your statement right after you were rescued. You were hit by blaster fire and dropped five to ten meters below? You are lucky to have survived this fall."
He nods. He can't believe it himself. By all means, he should be dead.
"My comrades?" He finally ask.
"In the same state, more or less", eludes the doctor. "This is not the subject for the moment, I'm not done with you yet. You're on bed rest, captain. I see you get up or try to make the slightest movement that I did not allow and I tie you up in your bed in isolation. Your only concern must be your recovery. Do not try to get news from outside. The only information that will come to you will be those that I would judge without risk to your health."
"I doubt very much that my superiors agree to..."
"They will stand far away if they don't want to recover their heroes in coffins."
Her harsh tone convinces Cassian of the seriousness of his condition. He lets himself be examined from every angle by a dozen different doctors. He answers all questions about the mission, even though he can only explain the causes of Jyn's wounds and his own. He does not ask any questions even if they burn his tongue. Where are the plans, how is Jyn, where is K2, did we find the default in the Death Star, how are Baze and Chirrut, how is Bodhi, where are the plans, who else survived, who died, where are the plans... Instead, he listens to the doctors telling him that his perforated lung has caused a pneumothorax that was taken on in time but that he will have to be very careful in the coming weeks with his broken ribs to not make the situation worse. Finally, two nurses plan bacta bath sessions, rehabilitation for his knee and he is told ten times that he is lucky to be alive. Ten times he nods without saying anything. The eleventh time he loses his temper.
"I know that I should have died there and that I probably will not fully recover from my injuries. Do you think this is the first time I've been injured in combat? But it's out of the question for me to do anything else before I see the others.
This diatribe leaves him exhausted, his breath short. His chest hurts as if he had been stabbed. Maybe he underestimated his condition if he's feeling so bad just because he slightly raised his voice. His nurses, a zabrak and a human, hesitate but a doctor calls them from the other end of the room.
"These are his men, of course he was going to demand to see them, what were you expecting? Let him do it, so we can start his treatment!"
They are not his men. If they are someone's men, they are Jyn's men. She's the one who gathered them around her cause, but that does not concern these people. Cassian does not protest, relieved to see his wish granted. Delicatly, the nurses help him sitting up in his bed. He holds a groan of pain because they could still decide his condition is too bad to let him see the rest of the team. Finally, he is rolled to Chirrut's bed, the closest.
The man is too pale. He has been intubated and is covered with bacta patches and bandages on his arms. The most painful thing to see is the empty space below his left knee.
"A blood clot," says the doctor, without elaborating. The next time you go on a suicide mission, humor me and take a doctor with you."
That's the opposite of the principle of a suicide mission. Moreover, the Alliance already lacks doctors. She's not going to waste them on the ground. Cassian does not even try to explain that to him. He merely nods and asks to see the others.
Jyn is lying a little further, even paler than Chirrut if possible, but she does not look seriously hurt. Her shoulder is covered with bandages and a huge purple hematoma spreads over her head.
"She's fine," the zabrak murmurs quickly. "We're just waiting for her to wake up. It should happen any moment now."
It's hard to lie to a spy. The nurse's words reveal more than he thinks. Jyn should already have woken up. Her injuries are insignificant compared to the rest of the team. There is a problem, but, deliberately, the nurses pass very quickly to prevent Cassian from asking too many questions. They do not really have answers to give him, so he let them do it.
Baze, on the other side of the room, looks as bad as Chirrut, although Cassian did not see the extent of the wounds of either man. Apart from his eyes, his mouth and his chin, his whole face is covered with bandages. His left arm's stump rests above his blanket. Then, Cassian sees Bodhi. The man offers a pitiful show in the next room. He is still in a bacta tank, his face turned to the other side of the room. His back and arms are a huge open wound, covered with burns and cuts. Cassian smells his burning flesh again, like in the ship. It's obvious all three men were too close when a grenade went off. He closes his eyes, he doesn't want to see the rest, especially not Bodhi's hands and lets the nurse roll him in silence to his place.
The two nurses unroll the curtains to give the captain a little privacy. As soon as he's alone, Cassian begins to sob in silence. Why have they survived if that's the price to pay? Why them and not the others? He should have better prepare the mission. Surely he could have convinced more people and ... He lets out a disillusioned laugh. Finding more volunteers would only have increased the death toll. He closes his eyes and forces himself to put all this behind him, as he does after each mission. Nothing has changed in the end. He's disgusted with himself and gags. By reflex, he stands up and vomits on the floor. The pain in his chest quickly becomes unbearable and he nearly falls to the ground.
The zabrak nurse, who stayed on the other side of the curtain, rushes to give him a basin and helps him to get up. Cassian can only thanks him with his eyes, too busy throwing up and then catching his breath. There is blood in his mouth and on the floor. Dr. Nankusa runs to check the condition of his ribs when the zabrak sees the blood and calls for help. After helping him lie down, she shakes her lekku in a way which indicates her annoyance and sighs.
"Well, we'll have to put you in the bacta tank sooner than expected, but it could have been worse. Of course, ''it could have been worse'' pretty much sums up your overall condition anyway. Do you want the details? The five of you have three limbs missing, a dozen broken bones, first, second and third degree burns, a muscle tear, a pierced lung, and three cranial trauma. The last time I saw so many injuries on so few people, we had just released an Imperial prison camp. And I will tell you what I said to these survivors. You will all get better because you and I are too stubborn to let it go any other way."
"Even Jyn? The woman, she's not badly hurt. Why is she still unconscious?"
"Cranial trauma. She will wake up, but we can't tell when and in what condition. We don't have the material to do brain scans. I asked for that many times, but it's not at the top of the list of basic necessities."
"And Chirrut? Why is he intubated?"
"We think he was too close from an explosion and was violently pushed on the ground. This caused an hemothorax - an effusion of blood in the rib cage - and he had to be intubated as a precaution to restore good oxygenation in his body. It should be removed in a few hours, he's recovering at a good pace according to our last observations."
"And K2? A droid, he was in the shuttle with us."
"I did not hear about a droid, but we do not handle this kind of problem here. I'll inquire at the first opportunity. Something else?"
Cassian hesitates before thinking of something else. He remembers something happened in the rescue ship. There were shouts and threats from Baze.
"Baze and Chirrut, the two jedhans, can you bring them closer to each other? If Baze wakes up without being able to determine Chirrut's health... I fear his reaction."
"He's the one who broke the doctor's nose when he was trying to see if we could still save his arm or must amputate it? It may be better to bring them closer yes. But I will also tie him up and keep something to calm him down at hand."
That advice came at the right time and not a minute too soon. A few minutes after the nurses moved the beds, while Cassian finishes the abject oatmeal which is the only food that they allow him to eat now, a grunt signals that Baze is wakening up. Like Cassian, this is not the first time he woke up in an infirmary. Even before he opens his eyes, he recognizes familiar noises and, for the first few seconds, he thinks he is on Jeddha's temple. He expects to open his eyes to see Chirrut smiling at his side, amused and exasperated at the same time. Then, suddenly, he remembers. NiJedha is dead. He also remembers explosions and screams in the dark (his own or Chirrut's?).
"He wakes up."
"Good. Maybe we'll get answers."
Baze is one of the survivors of his order, eradicated by the Empire in the first months of its existence. He was a mercenary and murderer in the years that followed. He know it's never good to hear these words. They usually mean interrogation and torture. Baze reacts to thoses words. He opens his eyes, stands up and raises his right arm to hit the man at his bedside while already planning the rest. Knock him out, take his weapon, take care of the other man on the other side of the bed, finish them to prevent them from raising the alarm, find Chirrut, find the others, flee. His plan fails when his gesture is stopped by the straps on the chest that nail him in bed and especially by a terrifying finding.
His arm is no longer there.
"Your friend is on the other side," the doctor informs him kindly without seeming disturbed by his violence.
Without worrying more about him, Baze turns around. Chirrut is here, yes. Injured, unconscious but alive and for the first time in a long, long time, Baze thanks the Force.
"I will detach you and you will be able to slowly stand up," continues the doctor. "We'll bring your bed closer to his when I've examined you. Your captain is already awake by the way."
Baze sneers. Cassian isn't his captain, if he belongs to someone it's Chirrut and really, these people have not seen how Cassian Andor looks at Jyn if they believe that he is the one who runs their group. It wasn't his vision that gave life to Rogue One. Baze doesn't argue but salute the rebel captain who watches the scene from his bed at the other end of the room. The man is in a bad state, with his labored breathing and livid complexion, but he will survive. On the other side of the room, he sees Jyn on a bed and Bodhi in a bacta tank, but his eyes are constantly coming back to Chirrut. He is too pale and scarred to his liking. The absence of a limb under the covers is blatant but unimportant. He is breathing normally. That's all that matter.
Knowing that he has no way of avoiding it, Baze lets the staff of the infirmary examine him and make the usual recommendations for a good hour. Take care, avoid sudden movements, do not touch his bandages for fear of scarring ... He hardly listens to them. He knows the seriousness of his injuries. His face burns under the bacta dressings, his missing arm itches, he has buzzing in his left ear that makes it hard to concentrate. His right leg itches, he's told it's broken and he has a splint to help it's consolidation. Whatever. In any case, he will not respect their orders. As soon as he feels that his body is in condition, he will get up and start the training again. He has never let an injury stop him and he will not start at his age. After all, he must protect Chirrut.
And then, he sees the hideous reality. He's missing an arm and there is no guarantee that the Rebel Alliance is ready to pay for a prosthesis. He was more than fifty, his joints ache and his reflexes aren't getting better, even if he refuses to recognize it aloud. More, the empire will sooner or later chase Rogue One members, so finding mercenary contracts to pay for a prosthesis may be almost impossible in the short term. How long before he can't feed Chirrut anymore?
"You must learn to stop worrying, my friend. The Force will provide for everything."
Baze can't tell how relieved he is to hear this calm and gentle voice. He only wants one thing, to rush to take Chirrut in his arms, but neither of them likes public demonstrations of affection. What they feel is just for them. So, he only grunts and it's not quite an assent.
"Well, for the love of the Force," he adds gruffly, "I beg you to not pretend to those doctors that you just discover your blindness, otherwise I get out of this bed and I finishes the empire's work."
Normally, when they have that kind of discussion in a hospital, that's when Chirrut laughs softly and begins to seduce the medical staff and minimize his injuries. But this time, he is strangely serious and silent.
"Baze?" Chirrut asks softly. "Why are you so quiet?"
Blood runs cold in Baze and Cassian's veins. Nobody dares to say a word in the room. Slowly Chirrut moves a shaky hand to hit his temple twice, right beside his ear. His eyes widen. Until then, he had been too numbed by the drugs to realize that he did not hear the sound of his own voice.
"I'm deaf then," he whispers in a firm voice.
Baze admires him for it even if he wants to cry.
"Not necessarily," answers a doctor, beginning to examine his ears, more for Baze and Cassian's benefits than for Chirrut's. It may be temporary deafness linked to the explosion. You've both been caught in an explosion, yes?"
"Two", answers Baze before confessing "I have buzzing in my left ear and the sounds are a bit muffled."
"Then we'll look at it more closely."
The medical team turns around the three men, giving them medical care. That leaves them little time to talk. One by one, they are taken away for longs and careful medical exams before being brought back to the bacta tanks for a few hours immersion. Baze and Chirrut barely have time to brush their fingers before being separated again and plunged into the bacta. In the tank, the patient is not always asleep, especially if he comes out of prolonged unconsciousness. And even if it's almost relaxing to be there because of the lack of pain, it's boring.
Chirrut meditates. He never had so much trouble to do it, even after the Jedi's fall and the destruction of NiJedha's temple. His blindness paradoxically helped him to apprehend the Force in a way he couldn't even imagine, and he knows it was a test sent to him to prepare. But prepare for what? In recent days, he has convinced herself that the Force was shaping him for Jyn's mission and he foresaw his death. He was ready. So why did he survive? To which destiny does the Force lead him? His heart misses a beat. Is this a test of the Force, never to hear Baze again, to have only his touch and smell? Could it be so cruel? Chirrut inspires and expires but hears only the silence. Impossible to concentrate.
Baze tries to meditate, for the first time in years. He cannot do it, but he was never very good at it, even when he was a Guardian. His worry and guilt are too strong, even if he knows he shouldn't feel guilt. He could not save Chirrut from himself.
He replays the scene in his mind, again and again. He sees Chirrut turning towards him, with that little smile, as if Baze's lack of faith amused him. He hears the blow that thrust Chirrut to the ground while he remained frozen in horror. He ran faster than he thinks he could. He had turned Chirrut on his back, expecting to see him dead or dying. Chirrut looked amazed too that the shot had only brushed him. His tunic was sticky with blood. Then, a second explosion made them fly a few meters away. Shrapnel had pierced his arm. Baze had ripped it off and summarily dressed the wound to seize his weapon and defend their lives even though he knew the outcome would be the same. Then, Bodhi had emerged in a different ship than the one they had landed with. He had fired on the stormtroopers and landed. Baze had grabbed Chirrut in his arms, aggravating his wounds to the point of tearing a muscle. Once they were on the ship, he had secured Chirrut who had fainted and rushed into the cockpit to help the pilot.
In the end, he is not surprised to have lost his arm, just astonished he lost only that. They were here only because of a series of miracles. Of course, Chirrut would call that the will of the Force. For the first time in years, Baze wonders if he is right. But is he ready to believe again?
Cassian hates the bacta tank above all. Yes, his knee doesn't hurt for now, and the pain is gone, even if he must be careful with his chest. However, Cassian has always found those tanks oppressive. There is nothing to do but think and he does not want to think about the past, the present or the future. He was so prepared to die on Scarif that he cannot imagine a future. The mere idea of becoming that man once again, the lonely and relentless spy, is chilling. He can't. Before six months, someone will use his lack of attention to kill him. Or he'll shoot himself in the head. Only his devotion to the cause has stopped him so far. His life, or death, is linked to one question. Does Rogue One have a future as a team? Maybe, if the others want that. And even so, an approval from above would be needed. Cassian forces himself to stop thinking about it. He does not want to think about the future because, for the first time since his childhood, he begins to dream of having one. He opens his eyes. Through the thickness of the bacta and the glass, he sees Jyn lying a few meters from him, still asleep. He can't look away.
When they leave the tanks, the three men are so tired that they instantly fall asleep on their beds.
When they wake up, they feel fresh and alert like never before, despite their wounds. After all, it's their first full night of sleep in a long time. Someone was kind enough to put them next to each other. Maybe it was to help their care or to make the next days more bearable for them. The first thought of the three men is for Jyn and Bodhi. The first is still unconscious. Bodhi has been removed from the tank and lies in a bed on the other side of the room.
"He woke up just after dawn, says a nurse while she changes Cassian's dressings. He was half-delirious and incoherent. My colleagues gave him a mild sedative. See you awake will do him a lot of good."
That's all they hope for, but Baze and Cassian exchange a dubious look.
"His mental state seemed to improve after our arrival on Yavin", Cassian notes once they are alone. "But I'm not sure it's definitive."
"Already met victims of torture?"
"I have already found myself in front of an imperial interrogation probe."
Cassian omits to mention that he was also once or twice the one holding the torture instrument. The things he did for the Resistance...
"I have seen things too, as a mercenary and as an assassin", recognizes Baze without complex. "I have never seen anything like that."
"I would talk to the doctor Nankusa to know what to expect, but we should have little expectations. The Alliance has always been short of medical staff and particularly in the psychiatric field."
"Jyn knows something I think. I've seen her look Bodhi in a funny way, once or twice. Chirrut thinks so too. He said that she felt guilty when she looked at Bodhi. Anger and repugnance too."
Cassian swears silently. He's a poor excuse of a spy if he missed that, no matter what effect Jyn has on him. He hopes Baze and Chirrut are right and Jyn knows something. Bodhi is the only surviving witness of his own torture. Questioning him about that could help him or make the situation worse. Cassian doesn't want to make that kind of gambit.
"We'll help, he concludes. We'll help them, whatever happens."
They turn toward Chirrut, lying in his bed, motionless. It's almost impossible to tell whether he is sleeping or meditating except that the wrinkles on his forehead betray his concern. Baze's heart tightens to see him like that without any means to assure him of his love.
"He'll get better," Cassian says, clumsily.
How do you reassure a man who is twice your age?
"He's not the kind of man to be taken down that easily, is he?"
"Sometimes, I'd like him to be. This old fool will end up dead if he keeps refusing to keep a low profile."
Anxiety and affection are evident in his voice. Cassian understands now what he had no time to see during their desperate hunt for the Death Star's plans. These two are not brothers in arms, or not only. There is a story behind Baze's silence. Talking about it could temporarily distract him, and indiscretion is the core of Cassian's being.
"Have you two been together for a long time?"
The old warrior hesitates to answer. He loves to keep his intimacy, but Cassian is their brother and has saved their lives. Someone else would have abandoned them on Jedha. And the young man is so obvious with all his glances toward Jyn that Baze can be honest for a moment.
"Eight years, more or less."
"Since the occupation of Jedha ?," calculates Cassian.
"And the fall of the temple. The Guardians were celibate. The Empire at least have freed us from those shackles. As if Chirrut couldn't be the best of the Guardians even he was in a relationship. But he wanted to respect these rules, and I waited. As always. Forty years to endure his impetuosity."
"My condolences," Cassian laughs.
"Wait until he puts his hand on a cane or a prosthesis," Baze threatens, "and I guarantee you'll have to run after him too. I dropped my guard for five minutes and look where I am."
They're quiet again, brought back to their harsh reality. Neither of them is hungry, but they need the strength to move. Cassian and Baze eat their lunch in silence.
Chirrut is the only one who doesn't eat. He's desperate to regain his mental balance. He hates that persistent silence. He remembers the early days of his blindness, just after the Empire. Baze's voice helped him as much as the Force to give him something to focus on. This time he can barely sense them. It should not be so hard. If at least he could be sure of Baze's health, of all his comrades, he would be better. He focuses on their presence. It helps him to meditate, and finally, he finds the strength to smile.
That smile reassures Baze. It's good for his appetite, and he's about to finish his meal when the doctor Nankusa returns to the room. In her hands, she holds a datapad that she studies carefully.
"I like the way your wounds are evolving, especially for you," she finally says as she approached Baze's bed between the other two. "Let me see that in detail."
She makes him sit down and auscultates him before nodding, satisfied.
"As I was saying, it's quite good. There's no infection in the arm, and your other wounds gradually heal. You're done with bacta baths, but it is still too early to remove these bandages on your face. Also, we noticed your left eardrum was slightly pierced in the explosion. Bacta has partly resorbed it, but you've been programmed an intervention later to finish correcting the problem. Please stand up."
Standing, even on one foot, after all these days on a bed is a relief. Even if his legs are slightly shaking, Baze refuses the doctor's hand. He smiles triumphantly when he finally stands upright and steady on his feet. He could nearly ignore the pain in his leg. Nankusa smiles back.
"I would say that I found myself an assistant."
The sentence does not make any sense until the twi'lek gently helps him to Chirrut's bed.
Lost in the darkness and silence, Chirrut immediately recognizes Baze's callous hand when it lands on his shoulder. He also recognizes the hands that gently grip him by the wrists after removing his blankets. They're so cool they can only belong to the Twi'lek doctor. Baze's hand comes down on his shoulder to help him into a sitting position while the twi'lek pulls. It's nice that there is no pressure on his back's wounds. Then, they help him pass his leg to the side of the bed. The doctor puts her fingers over his other knee but hesitates to go down.
"I know about my amputated leg," reassures Chirrut who articulates carefully every word he doesn't hear. "My back is full of burns, I feel one, maybe two, broken ribs and of course, there is this problem with my hearing. Do I forget something?"
Baze's hand tenses angrily on Chirrut's shoulder. He has temporarily forgotten his back's injuries, but the monk couldn't blame him. Chirrut knows that Baze's anger is directed against himself.
"We should thank the Force to be alive," he admonishes. "What we have lost shouldn't be enough to defeat us. By the way, would you have forgotten an arm or a hand on the battlefield?"
Baze reprimands him with a pat on the forearm this time, always with the same hand, which confirms his suspicions. Then, the hand freezes on his arm, and he hugs him hard. Now, their shoulders are touching, and Chirrut can feel Baze's anguish. Still, he refuses to worry. He is one with the Force.
He feels Baze's heart, beating so strong it could be exploding with joy. It's not often that Baze hugs him without worrying about people nearby. Chirrut bursts out laughing. He's sure he'll hear someday, maybe not much, but he will hear. He'll be able to continue to fight against the Empire. The Force still has plans for him and Baze, and he senses that he will be glorious. His hands look for Baze's face. He notes the bandages in passing and ignores them to kiss him vehemently.
Baze's amazement makes the kiss even better. Chirrut would like to make it last forever.
Baze couldn't stop Chirrut. He's too busy hugging him and thanking the Force and the destiny. When Baze let go of him, it's only to help Chirrut lie down again so that he could be taken to the operation that will save some of his hearing. Then, it will be Baze's turn.
Cassian remains alone. His knee and ribs do not allow him to get up yet, said the doctor Nankusa. He still needs at least two baths of bacta to sufficiently consolidate his bones and an operation to insert a prosthesis into his knee so that he can walk again. The hours pass after the departure of Baze and Chirrut, and Cassian finds it's hard to support being in the infirmary that long. He sleeps an hour or two and then starts to get bored. Eventually, he starts harassing the nurses who come into the room to demand news of K2 and to try to get news from outside. He makes it harder and harder for them to not answer his questions. Finally, they begin to avoid him and stay as far as possible from him. Cassian feels the tension in the room and quickly notices the way they look at the door as if waiting for bad news to drop. Already, he can feel the clouds gathering over the Alliance. Something went wrong after the battle of Scarif. Everyone is anxious, and it increases from hour to hour. If it were not for his knee, Cassian would force a passage out of the infirmary.
A noise halfway between a sigh and a groan distracts him from his thoughts. Nurses rush to the other side of the room. Cassian rises as much as possible on his bed, without any concern for his ribs.
Jyn opens her eyes and makes eye contact with him. In all her life, she had never felt so bad, physically at least, even when she was living with Shaw. Her head hurt so much that she sees red lights on the edge of her vision when she moves it. She stares a fixed point in front of her bed, to avoid the ceiling lights. Relief invades her. Cassian is alive. He looks at her like on Scarif's beach, as if he could not believe the miracle of her presence. She's sure that her face says the same thing. She can't believe they're alive, she must touch him to be sure. She has so much to say to him, to ask him... Someone next to her declares happily and much too loud that it's fantastic that she is awake and that she has been unconscious for five days. She immediately forgets Cassian.
"The plans?" She asks with a hoarse voice.
Cassian's eyes go softer. He's about to say something to her, but a nurse cuts him in a voice that is still too loud for Jyn's taste.
"It doesn't matter for now. It's necessary that..."
She interrupts and grabs his hand as he bends over to examine her.
"You will do absolutely nothing until I know where the plans are and if the Alliance is decoding them."
She meets Cassian's gaze again and sees in it a reflection of her own anxiety.
"I'll take it from here."
Mon Mothma stands at the entrance to the room, her face austere and closed. She is closely followed by an angry doctor Nankusa.
"These are my patients," she protests. "They must heal before..."
"They will eventually hear it. It's better that they learn it now and not because of someone's negligence."
She turns to Cassian and Jyn, making sure that they are in condition to cope with what she has to say to them.
"There's no right way to announce it ... The ship carrying the plans disappeared three days ago. We know they were pursued by Darth Vader's ship. We first hoped that they escaped and kept a low profile before coming back to us, but Princess Leia Organa was on board, and we have no news of Alderande for twenty-four hours. It's impossible to reach anyone anywhere on the planet."