Dismal

Companion piece to Distracted.

Wess shut off his bioscanner, nodding towards the trooper on the examination bed. "Thank you, Corporal Natter. I've all I need. You may dress."

Natter shot a questioning look at Basil, but did as he was told, awkwardly pulling the bodyglove back over his body. The nerve-damaged right arm wouldn't lift past his hip and the two medics helped the trooper with assiduous little tugs - helpful, but not shaming.

Closing the collar, Natter asked: "So, what's next?" There was hope in the corporal's voice, but fear, too. A trooper needed both arms to function, especially a heavy gunner like Natter.

"Lieutenant Wess and I will know more once we've evaluated the new readings." Basil put a reassuring hand on Natter's left shoulder, squeezing where the trooper could still feel the comforting gesture. "Once we have a clear picture, we'll know what treatment will have the best effect."

Wess shot the other medic a look, but only Natter caught the censure in his eyes.

"You've already tried quite a few, Sarge," Natter pointed out. "So have the docs back at Rimsoo 6."

"And there's still a Hutt-load left to try." Basil exuded optimism. It seemed to reassure Natter, but annoyed Wess. Still, no medic worth his genes unnecessarily worried his patient, so Wess simply collected his gear and waited for Basil to finish boosting Natter's waning confidence, before peremptorily gesturing towards the small office at the end of the medbay.

"Perhaps we can discuss the matter more closely in private, Sergeant?" Wess asked, courteously enough.

Basil gave Natter another reassuring squeeze, reminding the trooper to keep up the finger-strengthening exercises, before sending the corporal off to another rotation of light duty.

Wess waited until the medbay and office doors had slid shut before turning towards Basil.

Much to his surprise, Basil was already frowning at him and got in the first word.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, Lieutenant, but you could have been a little more positive back there."

"Positive?" Wess gaped at the Tessek Company medic. "Sergeant, there's nothing positive about this. The nerves in Natter's right arm, from the tips of his fingers up to his shoulder, are irreversibly damaged."

"We haven't tried..."

"There's nothing more we can do," Wess cut the other man's objections short with the brutal truth. "You've already kept him on med-leave longer than you should have."

"He's back to working his shifts."

"Light duty only," Wess corrected. "And helping Quartermaster Braxx with his inventory is hardly what Natter was trained to do. He's a heavy gunner, Sergeant Basil and he can't even properly operate a DC-15S. How is he supposed to fight with a Z-6, when he can't even lift it?"

"So that's it? You're just giving up on him?" Basil was incredulous, which only served to put Wess in a fouler mood. He did not in the least appreciate the position Basil had put him in, but since he was the ranking medic...

"Someone apparently has to draw the line," he snapped back. "And you're obviously incapable of making the necessary decision. You're a medic, Basil. One of the first things we were taught on Kamino was to know when to cut our losses. We can't save everyone. And you can't keep pulling medics off their shifts for consultations on a patient, whose diagnosis was confirmed six days ago."

"If Natter were part of Elix Company..."

"I would still make the call," Wess hissed. He ran an agitated hand over his goatee. "The rules are there for a reason, Basil," he continued in a softer tone of voice; trying hard to suppress his annoyance and anger over this entire escapade. Sending a trooper back to Kamino was never easy, but Basil was only dragging out the inevitable, nursing a false hope in Natter that would make the final decision all that harder on both medic and gunner. "Nothing we can do will change the fact that Natter is red-marked and the hours you've spent on this one patient are hours you should have spent on men you can still help."

"We haven't tried everything yet. You haven't even taken a look at that scan..."

"I've seen the scans the last three medics have taken..."

"We don't know what those Drongar spores did. Natter's condition could still improve, if not completely reverse itself."

Wess was perversely glad that his hair was reduced to five thin stripes running over his otherwise bare head, because at least this way, he wasn't tempted to tear it out.

"Sergeant Basil, you will write up your report, stating that Corporeal Natter is permanently unfit for duty and put it through proper channels."

"Why don't we just shoot him right here and spare the long-necks the shipping cost?" Basil spat.

Wess narrowed his eyes, feeling the heat creep up his neck and face. Did Basil think this was easy for him? That Wess had just forgotten about the brothers he'd had to send back to Kamino, or leave, bleeding and broken and past all help, on the battlefield, so that he could attend the ones who still had a chance of survival? "That's an order, Sergeant. Do I have to remind you of the necessities of orders as well as a medic's duty to his men?"

Basil dropped the bioscanner atop an instrument tray; the clatter filled the little office.

"Fine," Basil snapped. "I'll write the report. But not before I talk to Commander O'sic."

"Sergeant," Wess warned in a growl.

"Or," Basil went on in a louder voice, "General Arhen."

The two medics glared at one another, before Basil whirled around and stalked out of the medbay.

Wess stared after him, left floundering and dismal.