The shuttle carrying Derek to the SWIFT touched down on the base's solitary landing pad in the evening. Grey clad soldiers were busy pouring a permacrete mould for the next one, and bright yellow tents stood all over the compound, men in turquoise scrubs moving in and out of them amidst the screams of wounded soldiers. Derek's litter was unloaded quickly and taken to the triage site, a large hole in the ground with durasteel walls surrounding it in case of an enemy attack. After all, this whole base was only ten clicks behind the front lines. He awoke as a medic was prodding his legs, checking to see what kind of wound it was. "Doctor!" the man shouted. "This guy has two broken legs; the dropship pilots tell me a bunker fell on him." A man in scrubs ran over, a blue surgical helmet dangling from his belt. "All right, I'll take this guy and try to save his legs. Prep him for Tent 17." The medic nodded. "Yes sir!" Derek felt himself rising, and one of the men carrying his litter was talking to him. "That was Captain Bex. He's a surgeon." "Yeah, I gathered that." Whispered Derek. The man laughed. "All right Private…" He pulled out a scanner and swiped the ID chips in Derek's neck. "Hesh. I'm taking you to our Pre-Op room. We'll get you changed into some scrubs, put you on a gurney, and wheel you over to Tent 17. Captain Bex will take it from there." "Don't you need to clean me up or something?" Derek asked, waving his hand toward his mud caked uniform. The man pushed his hand to his side. "You'll be disinfected upon arrival to the surgical ward, in this case Tent 17. They use some sort of mist to do it, so that your wound doesn't get infected." Derek nodded.
They entered a large orange tent, and Derek could see dozens of other patients in various forms of surgical preparation. Tanks of fluid were lined up against the walls of the tent, and computer screens displayed the vitals of each individual patient. Derek felt a prick as an blue clad orderly stuck and IV into him, and he saw a computer screen a few feet away blink to life, displaying his life signs. Medics in scrubs rushed around like bugs, tending to each patient to make sure they were as stable as possible before sending them off to their assigned surgical tent. He saw all sorts of wounds. One guy was slick with crimson from what appeared to be a chest wound, another was missing an arm. He saw guys black with burn wounds, guys who were still wearing pieces of body armor (Apparently the Stormtroopers had arrived by now) and some guys who looked like nothing at all was wrong with them. They scared Derek more than the burn cases or the guy with the sucking chest wound, because they just curled up in a ball and seemed oblivious to the fact that people were screaming and dying around them. He shuddered and shook his head, trying to banish the image of them from his head. He pressed the back of his head into the cot, and fell asleep.
Derek was shaken awake when his gurney (Apparently he had been moved from the litter to a gurney while he was asleep.) was pushed out of the Pre-Op building and across the compound. He stared into the sky and saw a flight of TIE bombers, in a tight V formation, shoot across the sky toward the city. He reached out and tugged one of the orderly's sleeves. "What are they doing?" he said, pointing the gunmetal grey ships disappearing over the horizon. The man shrugged, obviously not caring enough to waste his breath on a seemingly stupid question like, "What is are those fighters doing?" Derek however, continued to pepper the man with questions. "Why are they flying in the direction of the city? I though that we called in a BDZ on the whole damn city! What do they need a flight of bombers for?" The man sighed, and after assuring Derek that he had no idea what the hell he was talking about, ordered him to lay down so that he wouldn't do any more damage to his legs. Derek sighed, and lay back into the meager pillow sewn into the gurney. He shut his eyes, but the orderly told him to stay awake, because the anesthesiologist needed him to be awake to receive the sleeping gas. Okay, whatever. He thought, and opened his eyes just in time to see what looked like a jet black triangle in the sky. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.
As he was wheeled inside the yellow tent, a man wearing scrubs and a surgical helmet approached him with a large syringe. A glowing green liquid was inside. Derek pulled back as the man stabbed it in his arm, and he heard him say something like, "Don't worry Private, it will only hurt a lot." as a dark blackness slowly swam into view.
Sorry about the short chapter, but I just changed the whole premise of this thing from a simple war story to a conspiracy riddled drama. So, this is crucial, but short, chapter.