#3 Lo, the Mess Hall!
CT-7222, or Jules, as his squad mates called him, was eating near the clone officers on the far side of the canteen when she walked in. Having been facing the door, the clone medic had been among the first to notice the unusual figure standing in the doorway.
Never, in all of his few years of life, had Jules ever seen a human woman. In fact, the only females he'd even seen before were Kaminoan scientists, and there was hardly any physical difference between them and the men at all. She was startlingly different from anything else he'd ever seen. Needless to say, it was not long before every clone in the room no longer cared about his breakfast.
Jules allowed himself to stare for a while. She wore bedraggled, outdated, olive-green fatigues that looked like they had at least a few days of dirt accumulated on them, and she walked with a slight yet unprofessional slouch. A caduceus pinned to her collar indicated she was a doctor. She was rather lanky, with long limbs, long fingers, and strong hands ideal for a surgeon. A short mop of ruddy red hair ran wild atop her head, and murky green eyes shone with bemusement. Thin to the point of being underweight, she was not what he had been expecting when he woke up that morning.
When she'd walked in, her expression had immediately been one of confusion, then discomfort as all attention was invariably turned to her. She shifted from one foot to the other as she was scrutinized by about two hundred equally surprised clones.
"Hello…?" she began uncertainly.
She was met with an empty silence. Finally, a clone captain a few seats away from Jules stood up.
"What are you doing here?" he asked authoritatively.
She took a moment to find him among the sea of identical faces, then looked him straight in the eyes.
"I was drafted." She answered sardonically. "And I'm hungry."
A few men started to laugh, but they were silenced by a stern look from the Captain. Had she been anyone else, he would have chewed her out already. Of course, this was a special case. The Captain had probably never seen a woman before either, and most likely wasn't sure what protocol to follow.
"I meant what are you doing here, specifically." He explained politely. "This is the soldier's mess."
She stared at him quizzically.
"This is where the food is, right?" she questioned sarcastically.
The Captain was nearing the end of his patience. Used to being obeyed without question, he was close to becoming angry with her.
"The officer's mess is a few decks-" he started, but she cut him off.
"I realize this is a very interesting conversation," she interrupted, "but I'd rather not have to yell it across the room. How about I grab something to eat, and then sit with you?"
Without waiting for his response, she turned and headed to the now-deserted chow line. By the time she finished piling food on her tray, most of the clones, all of whom had been paying rapt attention throughout the exchange, had reluctantly returned to their meals following another stern look from their Captain. Jules wasn't sure what to make of her. He had never seen anyone so openly disregard an officer before, but at the same time he was irresistibly intrigued by her.
When Goose sat down at the annoying clone's table, the mess had, thankfully, resumed its normal volume. Though she had managed to maintain an indifferent façade, she was still mentally struggling to grapple with the shock stumbling across hundreds of the same face.
"Hello again," Goose greeted casually as she began to eat. The food, no matter how bland it was, tasted ten times better than anything she'd been served on Virgillia. She allowed herself a small grin as she discreetly stared at all the clones.
Up close, the soldiers were even more startling to see. Goose had immediately recognized them as clones when she entered the room, but it still gave her an uneasy feeling to look at them. The possibility had occurred to her in the hanger, but she hadn't thought it likely to be true. Now, with all their helmets off, she could plainly see her passing idea had been correct.
It raised all sorts of questions, such as where they had come from, and who created them. However, at the moment, her utter bewilderment overrode that and she was reduced to trying to compose herself as best she could. After all, she did not want to alienate them.
"Who are you?" the clone from earlier asked bluntly. The only reason she could tell him apart was because he, along with a few others, had some distinctive blue marking on their armor.
Trying not to seem too aloof, yet still hoping to act like she wasn't as disconcerted as she really was.
"Captain V.E. Gosling, MD. Trauma surgeon." Goose replied airily. "Who are you?"
On the inside, Goose still felt a little on edge. Culture shock, she told herself. Still, being stared at by multitudes of the same face was unsettling.
"CT-7567, captain in command of Torrent Company." He paused, "I'm not familiar with your uniform."
Goose glanced self-consciously at her fatigues. She supposed they did look odd compared to what they were wearing.
"I dunno. It's the uniform the Republic gave me when I was drafted, three years ago. I know they're military-issue, but they look like they were left over from before the Stark Hyperspace War." Goose shrugged. "They probably are."
Goose continued to chow down.
"I wasn't aware the Republic was fighting any wars before Geonosis." the Captain probed.
She swallowed quickly.
"You're right. I was wrongfully commissioned by the medical branch of the Judicial Department. They sent me to a mudball of a planet called Virgillia as part of a twelve-being Republic 'mercy mission'." Goose looked at him meaningfully. "By 'wrongfully commissioned,' I do mean drafted."
Goose took another few fast bites of food as more clones leaned in to listen.
"Anyway, we went there under the impression that we were there to help the poor, miserable sick people of Virgillia with no access to health care." She paused for effect. "Of course, the Judiciary neglected to inform us there was a planet-wide civil war going on until after we went dirtside. Rather rude, don't you think?" Goose added scathingly.
She ate a little bit more and took a sip of caf.
"So, they sent us all to a field hospital, and I worked there for the better part of the three years we were stuck there. Surgical conditions were far from ideal, which is more than I can say for the rest of the camp. Yesterday they finally came to their senses and got us out of there. Took them long enough." Goose finished cynically.
Goose went back to her breakfast while the clones around her exchanged glances and stared at her a little more. She was a little surprised at herself for saying that much, but it had felt good to get it all out in the open. After a short while, one of the clones broke the silence.
"A mobile unit, right?" he asked nervously, much to the surprise of his compatriots.
Goose studied him for a moment before she answered, trying to make sure she would remember what he looked like. Of course, his face looked like every other in the room, and his hair was no different. Then she noticed the medical insignia painted onto his right shoulder plate, and realized that he must be a medic. That was good to know.
"Yeah, you could call it that," She said wistfully, as if fondly remembering it, although she really wasn't. "Never actually moved it, even though the whole camp was designed to be relocated as much as necessary. We lived it tents the entire time, just waiting for the order to move. Permanently temporary, we called it," Goose grumbled.
"So you like it better here, then?" the medic asked innocently.
Goose found the question so absurdly funny that she almost choked. She wasn't sure if he was actually so naïve or making an attempt at humor.
"Let me put it this way." Goose pointed at him with her fork. "When your bedroom floor is the same mud caked onto your boots, and the ceiling is made out of the same fabric as your trousers, anywhere is better."
The medic was stunned into silence. Goose felt like complaining a bit more, so she kept going.
"I must admit, I do feel a bit out of place. On Virgillia green was a common color, because the entire camp was made of Republic military surplus materials." Goose cocked her head to the side. "Hell, there was so much green in that place I would almost blend into the background. The tents were green, the medlifters were green, the uniforms were green, and all the food was green or turning green, except for the vegetables." She made a face. "Those were brown."
Goose was on a roll. It seemed griping suited her.
"As a matter of fact, compared to Virgillia, this place is a five-star gourmet restaurant. I'm not joking," Goose said frankly, "the last thing I ate there was called 'nerf surprise.' It was either liquid steak, or pudding with gristle in it. Hard to tell, really."
She sighed theatrically.
"As a matter of fact, I think I could kiss whoever got me assigned to this paradise." Goose stopped suddenly. "Wait a sec. Who got me assigned here?"
For the first time in a while, the Captain spoke again.
"That would be General Skywalker, ma'am. He spoke to me about assigning a combat surgeon to Torrent Company, permanently. Something about reducing mortality rates." He said matter-of-factly, "I assume you're it."
Goose stared at him incredulously.
"What makes you think that?" she asked disbelievingly. "I am a trauma surgeon, yes, but surgeons are usually only sent to the frontlines in an emergency. The rest of the time, medics stabilize the wounded in the field, and surgeons operate once they can be med-evaced. That's how it works."
The Captain nodded in acknowledgement.
"I understand that," he replied diplomatically, "but as you may not know, it is most unusual to see an actual doctor on an attack cruiser. You see, all medical personnel are usually sent to medical frigates or hospital ships. The medbays of assault craft are often crewed entirely by med droids. This leads me to believe that the General went ahead with his plan, and requested an experienced surgeon be sent at once." The Captain paused for a moment to let it sink in. "Do you see any reason why I would be wrong?"
Goose sighed slowly, her appetite fading away as she digested the news. A numb feeling settled in her stomach.
"No…" she said softly, "if what you said is true, then you're probably right. It might not be saying much, but at the moment, I very well might be the most qualified trauma surgeon in the whole kriffing outer rim. At least the only one militarily employed." Goose snorted, "In all likelihood, I'm the only surgeon this far out who earned their MD on a core world."
Goose pushed her tray away and rested her chin on her hand.
"Why does stuff like this always happen to me, anyway?" Goose moaned. "All I want is to be somewhere I don't have to worry about dirt falling in my patient every time something explodes. Somewhere that I won't be scared to death I'm going to be killed by enemy artillery while I'm wrist-deep in a chest cavity. Is it really too much to ask for?"
The clones sat in uncomfortable silence as Goose sat there brooding. She'd been having a perfectly nice day up until then, but now it seemed like she was going to be the only noncombatant, after all. Except… Despite her ill mood just a moment before, her face slowly lit up as if she'd just remembered something incredibly important.
"If there are no other surgeons on board," she said craftily, "does it mean that I get my quarters to myself, even though there are two bunks?"
Not sure why she was suddenly so excited, the Captain merely nodded in affirmation.
"Finally, some good news!" Goose nearly giggled. "You know, this'll be the first time since…I guess it would be…before med school that I haven't had a roommate."
The mystified clones continued to stare.
"Just trying to look on the bright side of life, even if there's not much there," She sighed. "I think I'll go now. I'd like to go check out the medbay."
Goose stood and had started to leave when the medic from earlier leapt up out of his seat.
"Wait!" he exclaimed, then flushed slightly as he realized how desperate he had sounded. "You'll get lost. I–" he glanced around, then pulled the trooper who was sitting next to him out of his seat. "We can take you there."
Goose looked at him curiously for a long moment, then shrugged. Upon further inspection, the medic's friend had turned out to be another medic.
"Sure. Lead on," she said with a hint of amusement. She probably would have gotten hopelessly lost on her own, anyhow.
The two scrambled to collect their helmets and catch up with her as she headed out the door.