So this is what it feels like to have your leg blown off in battle. It had never happened to him before though he had seen it happen to his brothers. Well that was stupid. Of course it hadn't happened to him before. Most of the men just died right there on the field from blood loss or trauma or some other horrible thing that came from looking down and missing something that tends to be important. He would have died too if it hadn't been for a medic. He never got his name. When he had been screaming on the ground in fear and pain the red plus had just appeared out of nowhere.
"Water," he had croaked. That was the one thing he needed. Then he could pass on knowing he died valiantly in battle. To his utter surprise the medic replied no. What came next was even more shocking.
"You're going to live brother. I will not have another one die under my hands!" even through the helmet, 290Cn could feel the fire in his gaze. The pain there, the desperation fluttered like a flag in explosions. He was new. Had to be to still feel that way. Otherwise battling was your life and transporting was a wonderful dream that ended too fast. Either night came or another battle. The older ones had stopped screaming at night. It was just thrashing. The new ones still shouted. Sometimes orders. Most of the time not.
"Water," he croaked again. His body was just one big ache. Why couldn't he wiggle his toes. Now he chuckled darkly at his own foolishness. He had no toes. The blood staining his armor red was his own. Not the dead man's next to him, or the dust mixed with the droids oil. It was his death.
This time the clone did not reply. He just fiddled around with some scanner and bacta. Don't waste your time he wanted to say. He was going to die slowly and painfully and there was nothing you could do about it. That's when he gave him the pain killer. His eyes were wide in a second shock. Painkiller was so rarely used on clones like him. Maybe they would use them on Captain Rex or Commander Cody, but not a mere field trooper like himself. But there was no time to thank him for the needle in his neck. As he stood up a rain of droid fire ripped through the area. It hit him smack in the heart. No surviving that. Not in a million standard years. He had been thrown back, his helmet tumbling off and revealing long hair. They didn't even have the decency to wait a second and buzz cut it? He mumbled something about a target before his eyes rolled back in his head and he died. Now he had to dead men next to him. He tried not to think about when there were three dead men next to one another. He focused on the dust cloud hovering above him to keep his mind off one of the most heartened clones he'd ever met just dying in the dust. There was no medic to tend to him. Only he had witnessed his death. He didn't even have a name to remember. 290Cn had at one time had a name. His group in training had given it to him. But they were all dead now. They had all passed a very long time ago. He had been lucky if you wanted to put it that way. But without them to call him by his name it had slowly slipped from his memory like a man forgetting to talk when he is alone on a deserted island. If you asked him too he probably could, but it would remind him of his life before he was alone. And that was just too painful.
It would hurt even more than his damn missing leg. After the medic's death his memories were just a blur of dim recognition. He vaguely remembers a set of white armor waving down a stretcher.
"We got us a live one!" Then nothing until he woke with a jolt to a disturbingly white medical center on one cruiser or another. It was too late to care now. This would be his dying ship anyway. What good was a clone with one leg? That's right, absolutely zero. Oh they would come up with something. He died of blood loss, or physiological trauma. Maybe they'd even admit they killed him but of course because he was so crazed he was a threat to himself and others. There had been whispered rumors in the barracks late at night.
"Sonny didn't die from head trauma. I was talking to him from the next bed trying not to stare at his missing arm. The next day he was gone," of course 290Cn didn't respond. He didn't talk much to anyone. Even his commanding officer barely received a nod. He doubted he even see Cody again.
Across the suffocating white medi-bay General Obi-wan Kenobi was talking with the conscious patients. The clones all had this awe in their eyes as he spoke with him. No matter what clones said about Jedi behind closed doors, they were impressive. If 290Cn hadn't been about to die he would have been too. But now he was only jealous of the Jedi master's ability to stay alive. He envied the capability to not have a scratch after a battle where so many of his brothers died. So when he came to his bed he would tell him so. He would tell him what he thought. His dying proclamation.
"How are you trooper?" asked Obi-wan as he came to his bedside. He studiously avoided looking at the mess where his leg should be.
"Fine, for someone about to be decommissioned," he knew Obi-wan was expected a good sir, or a just fine sir, or a thank-you so much for visiting me sir, but a clone in you vast army. Not a blatant statement that he was being killed by his own side.
"You are going into surgery trooper. The medical droids are going to replace your leg with a robotic one," he said, redish beard moving with his lips.
"Yes I am sir. Do you really believe I'll come out of it?" he asked. There was no hope in his voice. It was dead and flat of those expecting termination.
"With my entire heart trooper," he said with what was supposed to be a reassuring smile.
"And do you believe this war is a worthy cause?"
"I would not fight it if I thought otherwise," he said it so confidently. He was so sure of himself.
"Well," said 290Cn and he turned and looked into the blue gray eyes for the first time. His own multicolored irises swam with what the general determined as tears. So he was taken aback by the tone of his voice.
"Tell that to my brothers who lie buried on that battle field. Tell them the war is worth it! That dying for something is worth it! That being killed is worth one hundred percent the payoff in the end," he paused and took a breath, face furious. His hand clutched Kenobi's wrist.
"Tell that to the medic who died saving my life! Tell HIM this is worth it! He died for me FOR ME!" he shouted. Then his voice got soft and broken. "He could have just left me behind or given me the water and moved to another less hopeless case. I'm no captain or general or even a sniper. I'm just a lowly field trooper…" he trailed off. Then he actually began to cry. His grip tightened on Kenobi. "They didn't even take the time to cut his hair. They just threw him on the field like he was a sacrifice in a game. He died right next to me because he was too kind to move on. Because he was too kind to realize what a damn bad move it was!" the tears stain his hospital sheet. Obi-wan doesn't move or say anything. A medical droids camera's turn towards him and he begins to roll over. A needle appears in its grasp.
"Excuse me sir, but this man is mentally unstable. He needs to be sedated. Excuse me sir, but this man is mentally unstable. He needs to be sedated," its tinny voice drones. Panic shows in 290Cn's eyes.
"TELL THAT CADET THAT IT WAS WORTH IT!" he shouts just as the needle plunges into his arm. Kenobi doesn't move as his head lolls back and his grip loosens before totally disappearing. One does not need to be a Jedi to know he is not unconscious.
Slowly the orange haired general turns to the clone in the left bed.
"Did you know this brothers name?" he asks the identical man with a minor injury compared to the silent one next to him.
"He had one once sir. No one remembers it now," the clone does not elaborate. He turns back to face forward. He does not rant about truth or justice. He just follows orders.
Kenobi wonders which nameless clone was truer.