Life on the Resolute

After the Battle of Queel

Queel had been miserable…

Chopper lay in his bunk, his injured leg elevated and the data pad in his hands. He shook his head and tilted it, his ears still felt water-logged even after three days. The Resolute's bacta tanks were full at the moment; though he'd probably still need one by the time those troopers were healed up. That was ok; this was the Resolute and Sergeant-medic Coric would be in charge of his medical. He wouldn't have to worry about being sent to Kamino.

"They self-destruct. Miserable spiders." He muttered to himself, circling and making a note with the stylus. He could see it on the vid from Rex's helmet and confirmed by a peripheral from Hardcase. The spider droid's explosion went outward from the single point; an equidistant explosion beginning within the droid. Most droids didn't self-destruct; usually only those with minimal intelligence permitted it. It would be an interesting problem but if the shabla spider droids could self-destructed; then it might be possible for the far more common B1s to do so as well, the AI capacity was similiar between the two. Chopper shuddered at the image of an entire battlefield of B1 droids exploding as he and the other clones attacked. He brought his mind back to the problem of how did they make the spider-droids self-destruct. Then he'd worry if it was applicable to the B1s.

Chopper continued watching the vid. Rex had a good way of looking at things and Chopper was hoping Rex would share the settings with him. Rex's vid was overlaid with several different displays including IR/UV, troop count, two miniature overlook vids from the medics, map displays, terrain splashes, droid tracker; Rex paid more attention to what he heard, following the calls from other troopers, from the general than he paid to his visuals. He had to; he had real-life visuals only once every five screens until his heartbeat went above 140, then real-life visuals every third screen. Chopper wouldn't have access to some of those displays but Rex had integrated them beautifully and that was what Chopper wanted.

There was a knock at the door. Chopper ignored it twice before he heard Coric's voice in the corner, where his helmet was cached with the rest of his armor.

"Let me in, Chopper, or I'll put you in med unit." Chopper glanced at the chron, was it already time for Sergeant Coric…? Chopper sighed and used the remote to unlock the door even as he pulled the cover over his naked body.

Coric was wearing his garrison fatigues. There was bacta gel smeared over ground rash on one side of his face. He had a modified medkit in one hand and several large bottles of water in the other. He set the water within arm's reach of Chopper then pulled up a chair and sat near the foot of the bunk looking over Chopper's leg.

"How does it feel?" He asked, the analyzer glowing blue over the red opening of flesh gleaming with bacta.

They'd found Chopper under one of the crumpled swamp speeders in the search for troopers after the battle, the twisted barrel of a blaster cannon through his lower leg, both bones shattered. He'd been in water up to his chin and small water creatures had already begun inhabiting and feasting on the wound. But he had his blaster ready in his hand, in case they hadn't been his brothers. They'd found Ten not far away, thrown from the vehicle into a tree with enough force to shatter his armor. Chopper didn't have a roommate anymore. He didn't regret it, Ten had stared at his scars. Even after death, Ten had continued staring until Kix gently shut his eyes. But Chopper did wish that Ten had simply moved to another unit like the others who'd also been in the barracks.

Chopper shrugged. "About like it's supposed to feel, sir. Bone-ache, itchy, healing." He glanced up from the data pad to acknowledge Sergeant Coric then returned his attention to the vid.

"Are you taking the pain meds?" Coric glanced over to the bed shelf. Most of them appeared to still be in the packet.

Again Chopper shrugged. "When I need them, sir." He made a quick note about the spider droid on the data pad.

"You need more than you're taking, Chopper." Coric said softly.

Chopper paused, the stylus hovering over the data pad surface. The first interview with Sergeant Coric hadn't been that bad. Chopper didn't even have to asked before Coric pointed out the red stripped notation showing that all medical care was to be done 'at station' and explained that meant his care would always be local. The sergeant hadn't even made him strip but had simply gone over his prior injuries on the file and asked Chopper how he thought he was doing. Chopper had lied, of course. He didn't mention that the skin of his scars sometimes felt too tight or that sometimes his skull felt too thin. When he'd asked to see Chopper's personal med kit and Chopper opened it, the sergeant-medic had even commented on the arrangement which was as perfect as if his kit had just come out of Kamino. He had poked at it with the stylus. "Is that really how you prefer it?"

Chopper had bowed his head as one hand rubbed over his gloved fist. "No sir, but..." His voice faded as he remembered he wasn't in Slick's squad anymore; that Slick's requirement of everything perfect Kamino standard no longer applied.

"Show me." Though it was an order, Sergeant-medic Coric had enough genuine curiosity in his voice to make it sound like he was asking a favor.

And Chopper had quickly rearranged the contents the way he thought made the most sense on the battlefield. Adrenaline and heavy-duty painkillers most easily accessable. Trach tube then the blood clotters and small laser scapel for emergencies. The antihistimines, fungal cream, eyewash and dental glue were tucked into the back and under everything else because they'd only be used in down time; when there was enough time to unpack and repack the small kit.

Chopper's fingers had hovered over the kit, ready to reassemble it into Kamino standard if Sergeant Coric told him. The sergeant had only nodded. "Nicely efficient setup." The sergeant-medic had turned and reached into a cabinet. "I think there's enough room to add a few of these. He had tucked some small packets into the kit and given Chopper a half-smile. "Remember to come back whenever you use up something and I'll re-issue whatever you need."

It was dismissal and Chopper had quickly closed up the kit and saluted the sergeant. When he returned to his barracks, he re-opened the kit to find out that the small packets were a dermal cream to help the skin of his scars.

They had helped and Chopper owed Sergeant-medic Coric the truth.

"Nightmares," replied Chopper succinctly. His knuckles were white as he gripped the stylus. K'atini, laughed Slick, three-quarter man, hut'tuun. He didn't think Sergeant-medic Coric would belittle him for the nightmares, but Slick had always said the nightmares made him weak, scared.

Coric looked at the floor. He'd read Chopper's medical file and Rex had told him that Chopper was to be left alone as much as possible; that he was never to be sent to Kamino. On his own, Coric had even offered Chopper the option of staying in his quarters rather than in the medical unit. Unlike most people who slept soundly under the painkillers, Chopper's nights were worse then, as though only the part of his mind that controlled his nightmares was asleep. In other words, Chopper didn't sleep when he was in medical.

"I can give you something to deaden just the nerves of the leg if you prefer though it probably won't do much against the deep bone ache. It'll last for a couple of days but requires you to roll a bit and take a shot in the glutes."

"That might be alright, sir" Chopper nodded as he spoke, recognizing that Sergeant Coric had already gone beyond what was required. Then he curled up the corner of one side of his lips, trying out some humor. "Never knew you for that kind of brother."

Coric snorted as he reached into the medkit. "Hardly. Not like your friend Jester." But he did give a quick grin at Chopper's words.

Chopper set the data pad on the bed shelf and slowly used the strength of his arms to roll onto his side. He hissed as pain jagged up his leg all the way to his diaphragm. He felt Coric's warm hand against his leg and back, steadying him, touching his scars and Chopper stiffened.

"They're just scars, Chopper." Coric's voice was gentle. "Relax if you can."

"How is Jester doing, Sergeant?" Chopper didn't relax, but he was still, allowing Coric to shift his hands to his medic's kit.

"Jester'll be out of the bacta tank tomorrow." Coric set the dosage, rolling the tube in his hands to bring it to body temperature. "He'll come visit you right off, I'm sure. Then he can get your water and meals." Coric smiled, he usually felt awkward around the quiet conundrum that was Chopper. "I should have a tank ready for you in two days and then you'll probably be only a quarter to half day in the tank for the leg."

"No one's make trouble for him, are they?" Chopper asked after a moment. He felt the cold sting of antiseptic on his naked skin, the sharp pinch of injection, then the liquid warmth of painkiller as it seemed to flow down his body.

"No. The captain wouldn't allow that and neither do I. Commander Cody spoke with Jester; he was worried you two would spend too much time together, giving rise to rumors about…" Coric let his words fade, but Chopper knew what he meant.

"It's why we limit time together, sir, or stay in a group with other troopers." Chopper paused, staring at nothing with the tip of his tongue touching his upper lip. Then he shrugged and went back to inspecting the surface of the wall which seemed to have a slight curve in it. Coric knew he'd keep that thought – whatever it had been – to himself.

"Jester's a popular guy," Coric continued to keep the room from an embarrassed silence. "He's said to be kind, gentle, imaginative."

"The traitor used to mock him for that." Chopper's voice was harsh but low and Coric wasn't sure if he'd been meant to hear that.

"He's friendly and outgoing. I've sparred with him in the gym and he's unconventional and wily; he's hard to beat. I've heard rumors from a medic in the 212th that he's up for sergeant."

"He'll make a good sergeant. Probably one of the best. Ouch, kriff, Coric," Chopper jerked, twisting to see what Coric was doing. "That hurt." Then he froze. "Sorry, Sergeant Coric, I didn't mean any dis..."

Coric shook his head. "Coric is fine, Chopper. Sorry about the pain, should be alright now." Coric stroked the edge of skin then withdrew the needle, wiping away a drop of blood. "I had to go deep to get to a nerve bundle."

"Feels a lot better already, sir." He tried the sergeant's name on his lips in the silence of the Sergeant-medic putting away his equipment, "Feels a lot better already, Coric." Slowly Chopper shifted back into position. Coric helped him; gently holding the leg from being jostled and keeping the cover over him, Chopper's modesty being legendary.

"I'll remember that. If you don't have any problems sleeping, I'll put this as your primary anodyne." Coric professionally twisted the cover away from Chopper's wound, tucking it under the upper part of his leg.

Chopper nodded, looking down. He was as ashamed of his nightmares as much as his scars. "That would be good; if it works ok."

Coric stood and slid the chair back to its normal position. He glanced around the quarters. There were eight racks in upper/lower configuration; seven were closed off, unoccupied. Most of the men originally with Chopper had asked for reassignment to other barracks, other sergeants or squad leaders. They'd all given reasonable excuses; developing friendships, learning skills - nothing about avoiding Chopper. Only Ten had stayed; he hadn't liked Chopper any more than any of the others but he lacked the imagination or incentive to seek another berth. Coric wondered if Caber would ask Captain Rex to move in with Chopper once he was out of medical; he seemed to like the surly, scarred trooper. Rex, also, seemed to have some respect for him that went beyond the work he did on droids.

Coric continued inspecting the barracks room. Armor locks between the bunks were empty except for Chopper's unmarked armor. It had dents, scraps; certainly not a rookie's armor, but lacking color. Coric had seen Chopper's armor through his own helmet. Chopper had carefully removed all the ultra violet Kaminoan designs invisible to the light spectrum of the human eye. The chest by Chopper's bunk held everything else of Chopper's and Coric suspected it was only assigned gear, nothing personal. The walls were stark. "Who cleaned your armor after battle, Chopper?"

"I did." Chopper shrugged not looking up from the data pad.

Coric frowned. That was simply wrong. Someone should have done it for him; always the unwounded set their brothers' armor to rights. Cleaned it and set it in the armor locks to wait for the trooper's return; or cleaned it to return to Kamino.

"Chopper," Coric's voice was hesitant. "When I bring your dinner, would you like me to bring a deck of cards? Maybe we could play a bit of sabacc?"

Chopper didn't answer for a while, chewing the inside of his cheek while he stared at the 'pad screen. He glanced at the wall and Coric wondered if that hollow space was just a trick of the light. After a few moments more of silence Coric decided he'd made a mistake, that Chopper was trying to find a good way of saying 'don't bother me'.

"If you'd rather not, that's fine," Coric began.

"I don't know how to play," Chopper admitted slowly, ashamed. Always ashamed. Are you proud, Slick? "You need friends to play."

Chopper turned toward the wall, keeping his eyes down the best he could and set down the data pad and stylus. He ignored Coric's exit. Didn't think so. Coric has friends. He doesn't need another, especially me.

He'd been too soon injured to learn to play cards with his brother squad and they'd all died on Geonosis anyway. He'd been too tentative, afraid of what had happened on Kamino, and too ashamed of his new-made scars, to make friends with the second squad and then injured again. His third assignment had been to Slick's squad and he'd been warned not to play sabacc in that squad. He found out that no one in that squad played sabacc except Slick and Slick played for blood. Are you proud of what you've done, Slick? Not just treason but destroying good troopers.

At least, Jester hadn't taken permanent damage. He still cleaned his blaster first thing after every battle, then his armor; but now it was only good habit and not the compulsive need of before. Chopper hadn't heard him stutter since the night they'd captured Slick and hearing from Coric that - maybe - he'd make sergeant; that was good news. He'd heard that Gus had run into some problems with his new sergeant in the 41st Elite. He hadn't heard much about Sketch, assigned to the Coruscant Guards, nor about Punch though he knew Punch was with the 224th. But Jester was doing well. Both he and Jester kept their ears open for information about the others though Chopper wasn't sure why. Slick's legacy.

When Coric came back with dinner, he'd brought his own as well as the deck of cards. He pulled out Chopper's locker to use as a table and Chopper eyed him warily as he set the data pad on the bed shelf.

Chopper hadn't smiled or welcomed him; but neither did Chopper ask him to leave. After they ate in near silence, Chopper reached for the deck of cards and slowly went through the seventy six cards one by one. Coric set the remainders of dinner aside; he'd take them back to the mess later.

"Have you heard from Captain Rex?" Chopper asked absently as he set the deck onto the makeshift table.

Coric shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah, something about Commander Tano podracing Seppie spies on Mon Gazza." He picked up the card and began shuffling them.

Chopper stared him with a deep furrow between his eyebrows wondering if that was a joke or not.

Wasn't supposed to post until Tuesday, but I just couldn't wait!

Next chapter within 2-3 days.

As always, read and enjoy and review.

... and Wookiepedia says that Commander Tano was, indeed, podracing and catching spies on Mon Gazza.