In War

Pt 2

Casualties.

The word hung in the air with the foul stench of blood and sweat. Clone troopers littered the ground and cots around him, some awaiting treatment while others their impending death.

Medics rushed around the field hospital on the planet Bakura as the sound of blasterfire, explosions, and AT-TE walkers in the distance faded to silence as the battle drew to a halt. Even as the jungle stilled, the medical personnel's battle truly began.

Terms of victory. The phrase had left a bad taste in General Obi-Wan Kenobi's mouth after every tactical meeting with Admirals, Generals, and Republic officials. Or was that the blood that oozed from a wound deep in his mouth? The Jedi-soldier ignored his pain. He did not have time for such frivolous indulgences in minor injuries. There was a war to be won.

Dull blue eyes surveyed the carnage left behind from battle. Victory…but at what cost? Obi-Wan had yet to be able to define the terms of victory for each battle that the Republic fought as the war raged on, wreaking havoc in the galaxy system by system. On paper, they were wrestling systems away from Separatist rule, ensuring freedom. In reality, they were losing lives by the day.

Kenobi shook his head, immediately regretting the action as pain exploded through his temples. He blew a weary sigh and began to hobble away from the medical camp. He hated the thought of getting in the way when there were so many who were wounded so much worse than he. After all, many of them had been riddled with blaster bolts. He merely had been standing too close to a tank when it had been hit with a proton torpedo.

The Jedi Master's vision blurred, focused, then unfocused again as he swayed on his feet. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Kenobi attempted a deep breath, but was halted by a flash of white-hot pain in his chest.

Cracked ribs. Obi-Wan took a moment, probing his injured body. Scratch that. Two cracked, one broken. Minor concussion. Was that why he was struggling to concentrate? No matter. A missing tooth? He groaned and put a hand to his mouth, which came back bloody. That added insult to injury. Perhaps he needed to sit down for just a moment…

A strong hand wedged itself under his left armpit, steadying the General on his feet. "Easy, Master." Obi-Wan blearily turned to regard the green arm attached to the supporting hand. His exhausted gaze sluggishly moved up the arm to focus—somewhat—on an unfamiliar Twi'lek male.

Bewildered at the stranger who had grabbed him, Obi-Wan indignantly looked him up and down, noting the medical badge sewn onto his dusty, armored vest. The gentle, reassuring gaze of the medic remained on the wounded Jedi Master, compassionate and almost sympathetic.

"I'm fine," the General's cultured Core accent slurred as he started to wrench his arm away from the Twi'lek. "Unhand me. Don't you have wounded to see to?"

The green skinned healer's eyes hardened. The sympathy and kindness melted away. A flash of frustration appeared, then a familiar, Jedi-like stoic stare. "I will not have you further injuring yourself, General."

Something was different about this medic. Obi-Wan wracked his brain for a split second before the answer came to him a moment too late—

"Sleep." A powerful Force-laden compulsion entered the General's taxed brain.

Oh. Jedi healer. His thoughts scattered on the wind and he sank into a deep sleep.

Jedi Knight Noki'ido walked quickly through the medical ward on the Resolute. The Twi'lek had been constantly traveling since the war began, following the cruisers and battle groups to the most wounded systems and dying worlds, seeking to heal and mend where he could.

He had taken an oath before the Jedi Council, to the Jedi Order and to the Republic, to serve and to restore wherever possible. Thus, the young Knight had followed many Jedi Generals into the harshest battles and to the front lines, saving lives. This had come at a high price to the healer. Dark shadows marred the skin under the healer's eyes and a slight trembling threatened to overtake his nimble fingers, but he pressed onward regardless of any kind of fatigue. He was weary.

The Jedi Healer halted at a trooper's bedside and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

The cool currents took his breath away at first as he dipped his consciousness into the Living Force that flowed through him and every person around him. He allowed himself a brief flash of awe at the refreshing power, as he always did in this all-too-familiar routine, then dropped into the Force and began to channel healing energies into the wounded soldier.

The Force bled through his fingertips, giving energy to the weakened man, their minds entwining for the briefest moment. After several, long heartbeats, the healer withdrew his consciousness from the soldier's body and pulled himself regretfully from the Force. A chill swept through his body as his personal reservoir of strength was sapped.

The Twi'lek leaned heavily on the wall, giving himself time to gather his strength. He flexed tired, achy fingers, trying to warm them and return circulation to the stiffening appendages. He released a calming sigh as he allowed the Unifying Force to comfort him, warming the last of the ache from his body.

"Healer Noki'ido?" A hollow, mechanical voice pulled him from his daze.

"Yes?" The healer choked the impatience from his tone.

"General Skywalker will not leave General Kenobi's side. He is exhibiting signs of extreme fatigue and refuses any of my suggestions." MD- 722 hummed.

Noki'ido hesitated. Did the droid sound impatient or was it just his imagination? He shook his head, "Thank you. I will handle him from here."

The healer squared his broad shoulders and set his jaw. He forced an intimidating gling into his tired, green eyes. He reached over and picked up several small, sedative-laden pressure hypo. Armed and dangerous, Noki'ido strode toward the private room where the two Jedi Generals rested.

The room whispered of past chaos. A flipped medical tray laid on the ground, instruments littering the room like fallen soldiers from a lost battle. The blinds had been halfway torn off the small observation window, dangling forlornly from three small hinges near the corner of the viewing port.

Yet Noki'ido had triumphed. The Twi'lek healer gently tended to his patients as if the immense struggle had never happened. As he turned around to regard Anakin Skywalker's sleeping form, he repressed a very un-Jedi glimmer of pride at having taken down the legendary Hero Without Fear. In reality, the brief battle had not come without a price. The black eye the Healer sported spoke of how close he had come to losing. Victory had been achieved by a narrow margin when he managed to produce an extra hypo from his vest pocket.

The green skinned Jedi smiled at the memory, then returned to his work.

Noki'ido pressed gentle hands to Obi-Wan Kenobi's once mangled body. He peeled back bacta patches, cleaning scars and removing the sticky liquid from the human's skin. His commlink chimed and he pressed the small wrist-comm to answer a young, impatient voice, "How are they? Are Sky—Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi there?"Ahsoka Tano's barely restrained worry bled through the transmission.

"They will be fine, young one," Noki'ido halted for a moment, surprised at his usage of the reference to the Padawan. Young one? I am not so much older than she is. He smiled sheepishly to himself. "They are both currently sedated. General Kenobi is out of the bacta treatment. Your Master is quite stubborn. I had to have him sedated so that he would rest…"

"Both …bacta…stubborn…sedated…tooth…"

Obi-Wan's hearing began to return before his other senses. Disoriented, he struggled to gather his errant thoughts. Where was he? What had happened? He vaguely remembered the fiery ache of his body after the battle and a green hand—

General Kenobi's eyes shot open and he flinched against the harsh, fluorescent light of the medical room. "Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" A disembodied voice answered his slight gasp.

The lights dimmed as the Twi'lek healer in the corner waved a hand, coming into Obi-Wan's peripheral vision.

The Jedi Master shifted, taking a moment to answer the question. He breathed deeply. He felt a faint twinge, but nothing too painful. He opened his eyes, slowly propping himself up on his elbows.

The Twi'lek reached over and with another slight wave of his hand, the medical bed tilted, sliding the Master into a sitting position. Obi-Wan nodded gratefully. "Much better," he breathed a sigh.

Satisfied that his patient was recovering, the Jedi Healer turned and began to tidy the room, gathering tossed and scattered medical supplies.

Obi-Wan turned to study the Twi'lek before him, who knelt in the midst of what looked to be the remnants of a minor skirmish.

Green skin was mottled by bruises and scars, telling an unspoken tale of trips to the front lines of war. His green skin, which once must have been a vibrant emerald hue, had a slightly dull, mossy tint to it. Kenobi squinted, reaching out with the Force to subtly probe the Healer's Force signature.

Ah, that's it. A slight, almost imperceptible tremor shook the Twi'lek's hands as he moved. The telltale signs of exhaustion shook the healer's body. To the untrained eye, he was an infallible medic. To another battle-weary, observant Jedi, it was clear that Noki'ido was expending much more energy in healing than he was able to take in on a daily basis.

"Yes, Master Kenobi…I am tired," Noki'ido stood, answering the Master's unshielded, projected thoughts.

Obi-Wan was not shaken by the bluntness of the other Jedi's words. His gaze took in the healer, truly seeing him for the first time. "You are young to be a Knight…"

"Noki'ido, Master…and it is out of necessity that I was Knighted. I was given my trials before I felt ready. But as you know, there are so few of us in this galaxy that sometimes, tradition has to be pushed aside. There is a war. There are wounded. I could not delay any longer," the healer's voice grew soft, almost regretful. "I am capable. I do all that I can to preserve life."

General Kenobi's heart stirred at the quiet words of the young Knight standing before him. A sympathetic pang flared through him. Yes. He knew what it felt like to be thrust into the Trials of Knighthood before he felt fully prepared. He knew what it was to battle raging inadequacy and sleepless nights on the cusp of too much responsibility.

The Twi'lek turned to leave the room. "Thank you," Obi-Wan stated simply. The quiet thanks made the healer pause.

"For what, Master? I was simply doing my duty." Noki'ido replied quizzically, confusion knitting the green brow. He tilted his head to the side.

Obi-Wan smiled faintly. It was clear that the young healer went above and beyond mere duty. The bruises and scars showed that much. "Thank you for your dedication, young one. Without Jedi like you, this war would have long been over and we would have lost."

The Twi'lek nodded. "Master—"

He froze as the momentarily forgotten prone figure of General Skywalker stirred. Obi-Wan turned to notice his ex-Padawan lying on an exam table in restraints. His gaze shot to the healer, who was slowly backing away toward the exit.

"What's this?" Eyebrows raised with concern and amusement.

"I may have had to sedate Knight Skywalker," Noki'ido's eyes widened in horror as Anakin thrust himself into wakefulness. "He is fine. I must be going now." With a hasty bow, the healer sprinted from the room.

Obi-Wan turned to his dear friend, who was struggling valiantly against the restraints on his arms and chest as he struggled to clear his mind of the lingering effects of the drugs in his system. "That barve drugged me. He snuck up on me and drugged me. Just wait until I find him—"

"Now, now, Anakin. He was merely doing his job," Obi-Wan chided gently, reaching over to unclasp the medical bonds. "He's been doing it quite well, actually."

Anakin slung his feet over the side of the bed, wavering as his vision blurred. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. The young hero stood and rushed from the room, intent on hunting down his quarry.

Obi-Wan leaned back and chuckled. Barely a moment later, Noki'ido slunk into the room, carrying a datareader as if nothing was amiss. "Your release, Master." He held it out, awaiting the elder Jedi's palm print.

The Jedi Master pressed his hand to the reader, signing it. As the young healer walked from the room, he glanced warily to the right, then to the left, every sense on high alert for the impending attack.

General Kenobi slowly pulled his legs over the side of the medical bed and reached over to the small box at his bedside that contained his personal belongings. As he pulled on his tunic and pants, the Jedi Master smiled.

Yes, there were casualties. Yes, the cost often seemed as though it outweighed the gain. However, with other Jedi fighting the darkness of war, even behind the scenes of the battles, then there was still hope. Obi-Wan pulled his boots on, feeling more confident than he had in months.

Anakin skidded into the room, looking triumphant. As he realized that his pursuit had been indeed in vain and that the healer had eluded him yet again, his smile dropped.

"Give up, Anakin. He is on our side, after all." Obi-Wan put a hand to the younger Jedi's shoulder.