Concern
Companion piece to Distracted and Dismal.
"This is highly irregular, trooper."
"I understand, sir."
O'sic hoped to all haran that he did, because Sergeant Basil was going to be scrubbing 'freshers with a microbrush for a very long time and the marshal commander would hate for the medic to fail to comprehend, in detail, just how he'd reached that glamorous position.
"Once General Arhen has had his say, this matter is closed." He shot a censuring glare over his shoulder at Basil, who'd had the good sense to keep one step behind his CO. "Have I made myself clear, Sergeant?"
"Perfectly, sir."
Gaff, who was trailing after them, remained commendably silent. O'sic did not like involving the younger officer in this mess - shared sympathies amongst the companies were advantageous, but there had to be some clear lines drawn - but Basil had involved Elix' head-medic and since said medic was refusing to have anything more to do with the case, Gaff was obliged to represent Elix for no other reason but to defend his company should Basil go on a tear before the general.
Given what a nuisance the sergeant had made of himself this last six-day, O'sic wasn't about to put anything past him. He had, after all, just barely stopped Basil from barreling into General Arhen's private quarters, unannounced and uninvited. It was a stroke of good fortune, for the sergeant, that the general hadn't actually been in his quarters at the time.
Medics, O'sic reminded himself, feeling the tick in his scarred cheek start up again, were dedicated people. But that didn't mean they had the sense they'd been vatted with.
The group halted just outside the general's office.
O'sic shot Basil another warning look, before - and with pointed courtesy - knocking on the door.
"Enter," came the weary, muffled reply and the door slid open before either man could press the lock-panel.
General Arhen was seated at his desk, a frown marring his normally unperturbed and pleasant face, as he idly fiddled with a small comlink.
Gaff, trying to remain in the background as much as possible, noted that the general must have been in the process of finishing the latest cycle of reports the GAR always seemed to require, for there were several datapads and sheaves of flimsiplasts stacked neatly to one side, clearly ready for the next courier ship back to Coruscant.
Upon seeing the three men, the general rose slightly from his chair, nodding a polite greeting. "Gentlemen, what can I do for you at this," a quick glance at the wall-mounted chrono produced a surprised grimace, "apparently rather late hour?"
Basil made as if to step towards the desk, but O'sic stopped him with a look. "General, my apologies for this rather sudden appearance. I hope we are not disturbing you?" He nodded towards the comlink still in the general's hand. "If you are expecting an important comm, we can always do this at a more civilized hour." Though he never shifted his gaze from the general, O'sic's barb was clearly directed at Basil. The medic glared down at his boots, fuming silently.
To their astonishment, General Arhen gave a weak laugh and sank back into his chair. "Expecting? Oh, no, Commander, I'm not - and wasn't - expecting any comm-calls." He winced. "I was, however, ambushed rather ingeniously by my...ehm...by Commander Arhen."
Gaff flinched inwardly and now it was his turn to study the scuffed tips of his polished boots. Commander Arhen - Ro - had been trying to get a hold of her brother ever since his injury at Drongar. At first, protocol had dictated the disregard of every incoming comm-signal not carrying a Fleet HQ ID, but that only seemed to have galvanized Ro, rather than discouraged her. Lieutenant Teller had reported a flood of requests to speak to the general, verbal and written; the sender ID tags gradually changing from Ro, to Padawan Roweena Arhen, to Jedi Commander Roweena Arhen until climaxing in: Cheesed-Off-Jedi-With-A-Lightsaber-To-Grind. In-between harrassing the communications staff, Ro had tried to contact Gaff as well, but he hadn't been able to answer her comms while in the Rimsoo and once the general was in the recovery ward, he'd given firm orders to ignore all of his sister's communiques.
"She needs to learn patience," he'd told his officers then, looking pale and strained after hours of surgery. "And the meaning of protocol. She can't just subvert the chain of command whenever it pleases her. I will comm Commander Arhen, when I believe an update is necessary."
It looked to Gaff as if, in the end, Ro had gotten her say in first, after all.
His suspicions were confirmed when the general leaned back with a slight groan, massaging his temples. "Remember when I told you, Commander Gaff, that my sister did not appreciated delayed communications?"
From his position at the back of the office, Gaff nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I should take my own advice." He sighed again and glanced back at O'sic. "Commander O'sic, please remind me to tell the first shift's communications officer to change our security codes. I thought," and he held up the little comlink as if presenting the whip that had flailed him, "I was answering a comm from the High Council. Instead, I had my..." he coughed, and changed what he'd been about to say, "head, handed to me on the tip of a vibroblade." He contemplated what Gaff could only imagine had been a first-class reaming. He had yet to see Ro angry - in his heart of hearts, Gaff still doubted Ro capable of such a violent emotion - but he knew her as a strong and determined personality, caring and compassionate. Though he didn't quite understand how she had found out about her brother's injury, it must have driven her half-mad with worry not knowing about his state of health. Keeping her out of the loop still gnawed at Gaff and he determined to comm Ro the next opportune moment he had, and apologize.
After a minute of silence, O'sic cleared his throat, startling the general back to the present.
"My apologies, Commander." General Arhen sat up a little straighter in his chair, resolutely pushing the comlink off to one side as he gave them his full attention. "You wanted to discuss something with me?" Curiously, the general glanced at Sergeant Basil, accurately pinpointing him as the odd man out.
"General," Basil determinately stepped around the marshal commander, much to O'sic's obvious displeasure. "It's about Corporeal Natter."
"Corporeal...Natter," the general repeated slowly, as if testing the name for its familiarity. Slowly, he shook his head, running a rather self-conscious hand through his platinum blond hair. Dressed not in his usual beige and brown robes, but only in a pair of thin leggings and a white, sleeveless undershirt, the general looked more casual than Gaff had ever seen him. His next intended destination had obviously been his cabin, for even his hair was not in its customary Zabraki topknot, but allowed to hang loose. Down, the fine strands almost brushed against the general's shoulders. Gaff, who'd never seen such long hair on a male, let alone an officer, couldn't help but watch in utter fascination as, agitated by the fingers combing it back, the general's hair rippled under the light and was subsequently cast in a darker, golden sheen.
For the briefest of moments, General Arhen's eyes flicked towards Gaff, as if he'd sensed his commander's scrutiny. Feeling the tips of his ears grow hot, Gaff hastily dropped his gaze, deciding his boots were a far safer topic to occupy him.
"I'm afraid, Sergeant..." The general raised an eyebrow, waiting for a name.
"Sergeant Basil, sir," Basil hastily supplied.
"Sergeant Basil. I'm afraid, Sergeant, the name doesn't ring a bell." An apologetic smile crossed the general's face. "Would you mind jogging my memory, please?"
Considering that there were nearly forty-thousand men under his command and not even the officers aboard the Stalwart knew every crew member's name, no one took offence at the Jedi's lapse. The sheer size of a corps - or even a Star Destroyer - made it impossible to remember every name, even if most of the troopers and crew hadn't shared the same physical appearance. But it was clear by the minuscule tightening around the general's eyes that he was annoyed at his ignorance.
"Of course, General." Basil's shoulders had straightened and he leaned somewhat closer to the desk, clearly encouraged by General Arhen's open manner and tone. "Corporeal Natter is one of Tessek Company's heavy gunners, sir. He suffered extensive nerve damage after being exposed to Drongar's spores."
Recognition lit General Arhen's face. "Ah, yes. I remember reading the report. He is suffering from nerve damage to his right arm, correct?"
"Yes, sir." Basil shot O'sic a triumphant look, which the marshal commander returned with a bland one of his own. Don't get cocky, that look said, but Gaff privately thought the warning came too late. Basil was already half-way assured of victory.
"And how is Corporeal Natter recuperating?" It was more than a polite inquiry. Gaff saw keen interest and real concern on the general's face and he stood a little taller with pride for his CO. He'd been around long enough now to have heard plenty of stories from the older veterans and transfers about mongrel officers and Jedi who treated their clone subordinates like extra pieces of ordnance - useful, but easily disposed of and replaced. But not his general and that knowledge counted for far more than even Gaff realized at that moment.
"He isn't, General." O'sic interjected himself back into the conversation, pointedly taking a stance next to Basil before the general's desk. Folding his hands behind his back, the marshal commander gazed gravely down at the Jedi, the tick in his scarred cheek leaping on occasion. "Corporeal Natter's injuries aren't responding to any of our treatments and three medics have declared him unfit for any further duty." The last was added with a quick scowl towards Basil, which the general either didn't see, or chose to tactfully ignore.
"I'm sorry to hear that." The sincerity in the words was undeniable, but so was the general's confusion over why this matter had been brought before him.
Basil wasn't about to pass up an opening like that. "It is, sir. Which is why I request you formally arrange for Corporeal Natter's transfer to Coruscant and a permanent position in GAR Logistics."
"Sergeant," O'sic growled in warning, not at all pleased by the medic's high-handed attitude.
The general was nonplussed. "Logistics? Is that the usual destination for a trooper's..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "Medical discharge?"
"No, sir." Basil shook his head vehemently. "Protocol dictates that a trooper suffering from as extensive a handicap as Corporeal Natter, which cannot be alleviated through bacta treatment or a prosthetic, is to be sent back to Kamino."
Something in Basil's tone, or perhaps in the Force, must have alerted the general, for he cocked his head inquiringly at the sergeant, in a manner that was startlingly like his sister's. Gaff felt a pang go through him at the gesture, remembering Ro's soft lips against his cheek. Brother and sister were so different in their mannerisms and appearance and yet...It was unfair that his general could call up such...confusing memories and sensations in him.
"I take it that Kamino is an undesirable destination?" General Arhen inquired and Gaff forced himself to pay attention to the exchange. After all, they were discussing a man's life here, even if the general didn't seem to realize it. "I'd heard that experienced troopers were being shifted back to the planet to fill the vacant teaching posts left by our," a quick grimace distorted his face, "Mandalorian allies. It's certainly a tamer post than the corporeal would be used to, but I doubt Kamino will be spared from any more attacks..."
Basil could no longer contain himself. "Sir, he'll be reconditioned."
From his position at the back, Gaff saw O'sic close his eyes in painful resignation.
General Arhen's teal eyes were steadily moving between O'sic and Basil, sharp and watchful now. "That sounds ominous," he said softly. "Care to elaborate?"
"General, neither the GAR nor the Republic has the resources to waste on a soldier who can no longer fulfil the purpose for which he was bought and created for." Commander O'sic didn't enjoy the necessary, brutal candour, but he proceeded anyway, because that's what a good second did: he told his superior the state of things and helped him keep the big picture in mind, no matter how personally distasteful and distressing. "And there are," he said, with a quick aside to Basil, "plenty of men who'd not care to live a life spent in counting ammo clips and shifting supplies while their brothers face the dangers of the front lines."
"We are born to fight." Gaff's sudden comment drew the startled gaze of every man in the office. He met their scrutiny evenly, though he had to hide his hands behind his back to keep them from noticing the nervous twitch of his fingers. "It's an honor to fight, and yes, to die, for the cause of freedom and peace. We all know the risks, General," he said, catching his CO's piercing eyes. "A fatal or crippling injury is always a possibility. All a trooper can ask for is a quick, clean death. Commander O'sic is right in that many of the men would consider life as a cripple as an unsustainable, even cruel existence."
"And that gives the Republic the right to authorize the euthanasia of loyal and dedicated soldiers?" The general's attention was now firmly fixed on Gaff and those eyes were very teal and very probing.
Gaff had no answer to that and shot a bewildered look towards O'sic. But the marshal commander's face was as blank as a droid's faceplate. Basil was clearly agitated, attention fixed on General Arhen and two spots of color blooming high on his cheeks.
The general kept his eyes locked on Gaff, until the commander was overcome with the urge to squirm under such close scrutiny. Finally, General Arhen's lips pursed and he dropped his gaze back to the comlink. Picking up the small device, he began walking it over his knuckles in an absent-minded manner. His expression, however, was inscrutable.
"I understand, Commander. Very well. Sergeant Basil."
"Sir?" The hope in Basil's voice was painful to hear. Gaff found he was holding his breath in anticipation of the Jedi's next words. O'sic was tense, but composed otherwise; ready either way for disappointment or validation.
"Draw up Corporeal Natter's transfer orders and have them on my desk, awaiting my signature, at 0600. As the next shuttle to Triple Zero departs at 0615, you have my permission to inform the corporeal of his imminent departure ahead of time. I also want to be informed of every case paralleling that of Corporeal Natter in the future, to assess personally if similar actions need and can be taken."
Practically glowing, Basil snapped of a salute that would have made Gaff's former training sergeant tear up. "Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
"Yes, sir." Basil turned on his heels, and, ignoring protocol and dignity, raced out of the office. O'sic watched him go, his scarred cheek twitching rhythmically.
"You won't be able to ship every injured trooper back to Coruscant, General," the marshal commander said, so softly that Gaff wondered if the Jedi had even heard him.
"Commander Gaff."
Caught off guard, Gaff turned to face his CO. "Yes, General?"
"This meeting is to remain confidential." The general's tone was polite enough, but Gaff couldn't help but notice the hardness in his gaze and how the clear teal of his eyes had darkened to a stormier blue-grey. Had that color been painted on a horizon, Gaff would have sought cover before the storm could break. "Not a word of this to my sister."
Gaff hesitated in the act of saluting. "S-sir?"
"Not. A. Word," the general repeated slowly.
"I...Yes, sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
Gaff and O'sic turned to leave together, but the general said: "Commander O'sic."
The marshal commander stopped dead in his tracks, looking back at his CO in surprise. "Sir?"
"You may remain and," his lips compressed into a white, thin line, "brief me further on this reconditioning issue."
O'sic hesitated a telling fraction of a second before nodding. "Yes, General."
"Good." His eyes flicked back to Gaff. "You are still dismissed, Commander."
"Thank you, sir." Gaff beat a hasty retreat, only too happy to leave O'sic facing this particular storm on his own.