After Felucia II

By the time Kix came into medical, Chopper had sent three of the most critically wounded troopers – a bleeding concussion, a major bleed-out shrapnel wound to the chest, and a probable arm amputation, into surgery. A trooper from the 212th was sitting in a small waiting area, his lack of armor on one arm showing Chopper had already tapped him for blood. Most of Chopper's armor was already gone.

Kix was happily startled that so much had been done while he'd been checking out the men in the hangar decks.

Kix didn't particularly like Chopper; he was odd; skittish around the medics and would do anything – including tolerate infection and self-medicate – to avoid the medical unit. Kix hadn't been a medic who pushed himself onto a wounded brother and there was always so much more in the medical unit for him to do and learn. So when Kix noted Chopper avoiding medical and sparring after the battle on Kothis, he reported it to the head medic rather than confronting the taciturn trooper.

"I suspect he has an infected wound, Coric." Kix shook his head. "The di'kut is so scared of medical he's risking gangrene or dying. I saw him in the mess and, before he saw me, he was sitting sideways with his head down and one fist clenched up until he saw me. I watched him and got up to get caf when he went by. I would swear I smelled infection." He had snorted. "Not that he was limping or anything, nothing but perfection when he walked out of the mess."

Coric had nodded. "Captain Rex asked me to keep an eye on Chopper for him. I'll take care of it, Kix." And he had, but Kix wondered exactly why the captain had asked Coric to keep an eye on Chopper.

"I was just prepping for surgery, Kix." Chopper had found a power lift and had it under his hip, his wounded leg dangling from the small platform meant to carry supplies beside the medic. It probably hurt and he'd have very little mobility, but that wasn't necessary in the surgery. "I've assigned the delicate work to the med-droids. Your hand and my lack of experience won't handle it. "We'll get," he gestured at his chest, at the scars beneath his shirt, "kriffing big wounds, massive trauma. What Coric calls 'butcher work'." He moved over to Kix, using his good leg to guide himself, and began stripping the armor from him, being careful of his wounded arm. "That sergeant from the 212th with the head wound; he died. There was just too much damage." Chopper's voice was low and surprisingly gentle. "But I put him in stasis, in case me and the droid are wrong."

"I hadn't been optimistic about him." Kix sighed as he looked over the operating room. There had been three operating rooms complete with med droids on the Resolute but plenty of replacement supplies such as surgery lights and General Skywalker had suggested making the supply room into an axillary surgery with the medics as surgeons until such time as the replacements were needed in the main rooms. It had been an excellent idea and proved lifesaving to so many troopers. Chopper had already flicked on the antiseptic blue lights. Surprisingly, he'd also dropped the ambient temperature in the room.

"Why so cold, Chopper? The blue lights don't produce heat." Kix asked as Chopper tugged a sterile glove over his working hand.

Chopper shrugged. "Blood runs to the core when we're cold. I thought it might keep some of the minor veins and arteries from bleeding, like the stuff you put on my leg. You and me, we'll be side by side. I think we'd get too warm under normal temperature.

Kix nodded. It seemed a good idea even though he hadn't heard of it. There was nothing he knew that indicated otherwise.

Kix didn't totally trust Chopper. He'd been with Sergeant Slick then and Kix hadn't trusted Slick's squad since patching up Gus one cold morning soon after his arrival on Christophsis.

Gus hadn't wanted any of the medics of the 212th to see him and he'd come to the medical unit of the 501st, claiming it was closer, saying he'd been attacked by some gang of lawless toughs that hung around the refugee camp which was the first lie Kix noticed. The 212th was based with the refugee camp. Kix hadn't believed the rest of the story either, not with the trooper avoiding Kix's eyes, avoiding questions and, when he did talk, giving contradictory answers. Gus hadn't been in a talkative mood but those kinds of wounds – especially the bite mark, purple bruising and bleeding, deep on Gus' shoulder - didn't come from 'sparring' or 'a little accident' or even a beating from a gang of men and Kix told him so. Gus had begged… begged Kix not to report it as anything more than an accident and what Gus had offered Kix showed the desperation of the trooper.

"It's just the price of the favor I'm asking you," explained Gus in a terrified voice; terrified Kix wouldn't take him up on his offer, terrified Kix would report him, terrified Kix wouldn't give him the favor of privacy.

Kix couldn't understand that. It was obvious Gus had been a victim and would be obvious to any trooper, any command officer. There would be no repercussion on Gus, only on the perpetrator.

"Who did this, Gus?" Kix had asked as his fingers tended to the deep circle seeping blood.

But Gus had refused to answer, taking only the medications and slipping them into a belt pouch before grabbing his helmet and striding toward the exit.

Kix's words had halted the trooper mid-stride. "I'll report it, Gus."

Gus had paused then lowered his head. "It was consensual, medic. There's nothing to report."

At first, Kix thought it might have been Chopper or, possibly, Jester. Neither trooper was held in high esteem by their sergeant or by anyone else of the 212th whereas Gus was sergeant's second. Kix thought it might be jealousy from either or both of them so he watched them. A medic had a lot of autonomy particularly in learning more and no one questioned why Kix from the 501st was spending so much time with the 212th at the refugee camp.

Kix saw things he couldn't understand. Why was Jester always rubbing his fisted knuckles? Why did two brothers by choice, Punch and Sketch, chose such different schedules? Why did Gus treat Chopper and Jester with such maliciousness? Why was Chopper so quiet and … cautious… of his surroundings.

It had all come together one day when Kix was walking from the 212th medical unit back to the 501st. He was taking a shortcut through the camp and had come around a corner to see Gus and Sergeant Slick in a discussion.

"Well," replied Sergeant Slick offhandedly to Gus as his fingers caressed the rim of his helmet. "I suppose, for the price of a favor." Gus had stiffened in his armor and his face froze in a stoic non-expression. Slick had turned back his head and Kix caught his expression. Arrogance and greed and some dark pleasure that lit his eyes. Slick had seen Kix's expression watching him and he kept the sneer on his face, raising only an eyebrow in question or challenge.

'The price of a favor', and sudden clarity rushed over Kix's mind. He didn't know what or how much the others were involved, but Sergeant Slick had been the one to victimize Gus; to set his teeth against the trooper's shoulder and break skin.

That experience, Slick's arrogance and Gus' distress, had broken Kix's heart. That any man should treat his brother, troopers under his command, with such disregard was unbelievable and Kix decided to report Slick immediately.

He'd been making his way back to 501st headquarters when he'd been wounded. A long range mortar attack at the edge of the refugee camp had thrown him to one side, ripping open his armor and his side from sixth rib down to acetabulum. Someone had been there almost immediately and, wounded that badly, he'd been thrown into a bacta tank for four days. Four days in which Slick's perfidy had been revealed and Captain Rex had taken the 501st to Teth one medic short. Usually Kix knew better, but sometimes he blamed so much of Teth to his own absent hands.

Kix wiped his brow with his forearm as he leaned against a low table. His knees trembled and he pushed himself to sit on the table in case his knees actually gave out. He and Chopper had just finished a shattered femur and nicked artery; Chopper was turning out surprisingly adaptable to Kix's instructions. Kix glanced out the door to see a trooper, Kev, limping into the room with a bulb of nutrient and water. Kix frowned. "I don't think you're next, Kev."

Kev shook his head and handed him the nutrients. "Chopper said to make sure you downed this and the water. He's checking on the other surgeries, doing a re-assessment of the wounded in case the order of surgery needs to be changed. He asked me to tell you that all the stasis chambers are filled; that two of them will probably be pulled out later for surgery rather than going to Kaliida or Kamino."

"Kaliida?" Kix jerked the bulb from his mouth. "They all go to Kamino."

Kev shrugged his shoulder. "Most of them are lined up for Kamino, but Chopper has two troopers set for Kaliida. I don't know why."

Chopper came in at that moment. "Because there's a surgeon on Kaliida who can work miracles with those two."

Kix tilted his head with curiosity. Chopper was lying. He glanced at Kev to see if Chopper's one-time barracks mate noticed, but Kev merely nodded and left the room.

"Why Chopper?" Kix finished the nutrient bulb and reached out his good arm for Chopper to replace the glove.

Chopper stared down at the floor for a moment, his jaw grinding. Kix decided he'd give Chopper a dental check in the next down time. That much pressure on the teeth would cause occlusal trauma and molar fractures.

"Because Kaliida Medical Station will be the best place for these two troopers to go, Kix. I know this." Chopper was looking at Kix with a pleading expression and there was nothing but truth in Chopper's body language.

Still, he wasn't sure about Chopper, so for the most part, it was Coric who tended Chopper and usually out of his barracks rather than the med unit. Kix still tended to observe Chopper, wondering if he would turn traitor, wondering how much pain he'd been responsible for in that squad. Slowly he'd come to realize that Chopper didn't caused pain; he swallowed it, trying to take it from his brothers, even from the Jedi. Kix had seen an odd friendship develop between the quietly stern trooper and the ebullient Jedi padawan.

Kix nodded softly. "I'll sign off on it, Chopper. My authority, these men go to Kaliida unless we can fix them here on the Resolute."

Chopper nodded, his relief visibly evident. "Good enough, Kix." He tugged the glove onto Kix's arm. They'd become surprisingly good at it in such a short time.

"How are the droids doing?"

Again, Chopper looked down, his jaw moving. "There's our four. Surgery one has done two bleeding concussions and an abdominal. Two has three abdominal or chests." He paused. "Three is still working on the arm."

"Still?" Kix's voice rose. "How many have we lost in that time, Chopper? An amputation shouldn't take that…"

"I told him to save the arm," Chopper cut in brusquely. "Only the sergeant has died, Kix. And you weren't optimistic about him."

Kix shook his head. "It's a med droid, programmed to make decisions. It should have stopped trying to save the arm and amputated about the same time we finished our first surgery."

"It's the droid with the dent." Chopper wasn't looking at Kix, he was looking past him. "I put the dent in it one of my early stays here and I threatened it with a lot more than just a dent if it didn't save the trooper's life and arm."

Kix stilled. He hadn't known a droid would react like that, but he should have. The med droids, with their extensive, multi-species medical programming, had a very high self-preservation program. He sighed. "I hope it was a good decision, Chopper. What's our next surgery?"

Chopper relaxed, realizing Kix wouldn't counter his instructions to the droid. "Full chest blaster burn, Captain Rex. We're done with the criticals. After him, Commander Cody would like to see you.

Kix nodded and turned to what they would need. His fingers shook and he realized he was reaching the end of both his endurance and the pain killers. "You'll be doing most of the captain, Chopper." Chopper merely made a noise in the back of his throat; half a grunt and half a chuckle.

"Thought I might."

Chopper had done extremely well in the medical unit as Kix's pair of hands. He seemed to have a sense … Kix had laughed at himself … Chopper had experience. He knew when to administer anodyne, knew when the trooper needed information or simply a word of acknowledgement. He knew when to simply stand aside and let Kix or the med droids do their work, knew when to be harsh with a trooper, knew when to comfort. He followed instructions well and without hesitation.

Coric had turned and asked him where he would stand.

"I'll be in medic's square with you." Kix thought it an odd question.

"I'll be in Chopper's slot line," Coric shook his head. "Kev is talking too liberally about the commander." Coric snorted. "About things he has no knowledge of." He had looked speculatively at Kix and called up some 2D vids on the computer. "Here, Kix. Judge for yourself." Then Coric had left the small office adjacent to the medical unit, leaving Kix to watch security vids.

Upon entering the gym with Coric, Kix had still been determined to sit the medic's square, next to the captain's place; areas of neutrality; except the captain had sat Chopper's slot. Kix had been moving toward neutral area anyway when he'd heard Kev laughingly say "I'll show three-quarter man the floor." Kix had seen arrogance and some dark pleasure so reminiscent of Sergeant Slick in Kev's expression and his feet had taken him unthinkingly to Chopper's line.

He had observed the fight closely, cataloguing injuries as they occurred. Chopper had been efficient and, except for the last few moments, totally the cold, deadly soldier the Kaminoans had trained them all to be. Yet, he'd been kind. Kix had seen him punch Kev's eye early in the fight with enough force that it would swell shut; then, in spite of several openings, avoid the other eye for the rest of the fight. Blinding a trooper, making him near-helpless even temporarily, was a cruel thing to do. Chopper had pummeled Kev's chest and Kev would be sore and bruised but Chopper hadn't broken a single rib; something that took more skill than simply giving in to battle fever. Even at the end of the fight, when Chopper had been yelling at Kev and the captain had tensed in concern; Kix had seen Chopper was totally in control, merely acting. His physiologic responses were calm, relaxed. Kix had confirmed it with a glance at Fives sitting quietly with his own slight smile.

When Commander Cody had come in and ordered Kix to a bacta tank, Kix had begun objecting, citing reasons he couldn't go into a tank. Even while Kix was arguing with Cody, Chopper, supported by the powerlift, had been guiding him to the last tank, prepping him for immersion.

Kix paused and turned to Commander Cody as Chopper pushed him lightly into the tank. "Yes sir. Chopper should be in charge here until I'm out." Then he turned to Chopper and clasped his good hand around Chopper's forearm. "Thanks Chopper. You've done very well. I'd be honored if you woke me, vod."

Chopper stilled in shock then he nodded softly. "It's my honor to wait, Kix. My honor."

Enjoy...