# 17 Dear Mom
Goose sat down heavily against the crumbling duracrete wall, settling down on the dusty ground with a tired groan. She shut her eyes for a moment, almost drifting to sleep as she felt her aching limbs tingle with exhaustion. Then she roused herself with another groan and sat up a bit more, however reluctantly. No matter how tired she was, she wanted to finish the letter. Goose picked up her datapad from the chunk of masonry she'd left it on, then blew off the thick layer of dust that had fallen on the screen after only a few hours of lying there. She powered it up, then slowly read over what she'd already written.
Dear Mom,
I am well, thank you. The Republic has recalled me from Virgillia, and I've been transferred to the Kaliida Shoals MedCenter. Don't worry, I'm safe here. The station it several parsecs away from the fighting, and the Separatists would never dream of attacking a hospital ship. The equipment here is all new, and the food is alright. I have nothing to complain about, so
Goose sighed. That was all she'd managed to write in the two days after receiving her mother's worried message. It'd probably been sent weeks ago to Virgillia, where it had sat around for an eternity before being rerouted to her on Christophsis. At first she'd felt ashamed that she'd forgotten to write to her own mother about her new post as a combat surgeon. Then she'd realized that she didn't even know what to say to her. Goose hated to lie, but she also didn't want her mom to find out she had willingly accepted, even asked for, a dangerous post. It would only make her worry.
In this way, Goose was relieved that holo communications weren't available because of the blockade, which the Separatists had reformed only hours after she received the message. At least she wouldn't have to lie to her face. But everything she tried to write sounded so trite and leaden that she didn't really think her mother would ever buy it. It was easy to say that she'd been transferred to Kaliida Shoals, because she almost had been, but when she tried talking about how safe and happy she was, it just wouldn't come out right.
That was probably because she wasn't safe, not in the least. Three days ago, the Resolute had left orbit with Slick aboard to rendezvous with the fleet and resupply. Whatever happened to Slick, Goose couldn't care less of anymore, because not long after that the Separatists had marched upon them at full force. A day later, they'd been forced to abandon the base once the blockade in orbit had started to send aircraft to bombard them. They'd been pushed back all the way back to the same staging area where troops had first deployed only three weeks prior.
The fighting hadn't really stopped in the last three days, but there had been lulls a few hours long that everyone tried to use to rest. But that never really gave her enough time for actual sleep, because Goose had to keep working to save the wounded even after the shooting had stopped. However, the medics had been an immense help to her, working themselves to the bone to keep up with it all. She could have been killed any number of times in the past three days, but there she was, still alive. And at the moment it seemed her biggest problem was that letter.
It was silly, really. Her mother, who was living safely light-years away, was not nearly as important at the moment as the lives of the men she was saving. Yet this letter to her mom was important. Goose had hardly been able to send anything to her the entire three years she'd lived on Virgillia, and she was using one of the few opportunities she had tell her a lie. She'd already decided it couldn't be helped, but that didn't stop her from struggling with it.
She was jolted out of her reverie when the heavy cannons started to whoomp again, the reverberations shaking loose bits of ceiling plaster that rained down on her and her patients. The makeshift first aid station had been set up inside a crumbling office building, but to Goose it almost felt as if the danger of the roof caving in on them was worse than the risk of keeping the wounded outside. In the end it hadn't been her decision to make, and she'd just had to deal with the constant fear of a building collapse.
Goose heaved herself to her feet with a sigh, setting the datapad back down so she could deal with it later. The cannons resuming their fire probably meant the Separatists' droids were marching towards them again. She quickly made her rounds, checking to see if all her patients were all right, before preparing to receive new ones. Around her, the medics had started to do the same, many of them picking up their stretchers and readying themselves to go out and ferry the wounded back.
Mentally, she started to steel herself for the next wave of casualties. There was no telling if it would stop after only fifteen minutes, or drag on for hours. Goose must have had a particularly melancholy expression, because Jules had come up to her and was giving her that worried look he sometimes had right before a battle. She answered him with a wan smile, but hadn't the energy to muster even a few words of comfort. He gave a small nod back to her, then turned to look for something in his medkit. It wouldn't matter all that much anyway. The droids were coming, and there was nothing she could've said to him that would have made either of them feel any better.
It was not long before they all could hear the eerily awful chunk-chunk-chunk of the approaching droids as they all marched in unison.
Half an hour later, it ended just as abruptly as it had begun. Goose never saw much of the battles from inside the aid station, but this one had been unusually quick. From the chatter of the clones around her, most were confident that things were finally turning to their favor. She hoped they were right. Meanwhile, she had her own problems to contend with. Droids were just as deadly even as they were destroyed, since they made deadly shrapnel regardless if they were blown up or shot to pieces. Goose idly wondered if the droids' creators had taken that into consideration when designing them as she wrangled with a section of a droid's durasteel faceplate that had embedded itself five inches in a trooper's leg.
It took her another half hour to coax out the shrapnel without tearing the muscle any further, then even longer to set the broken bone and repair the soft tissue. The trooper would walk again, of that she was sure. Of course, that was only if they all survived until the Resolute came back. Soon, she hoped. Goose also gave that trooper one of her few remaining units of blood, since he'd lost a lot during the operation. Before long, however, she would run out. They'd taken as much supplies as they could from the medbay at the base before retreating, but constant fighting had worn down what little they had.
The Resolute was due to arrive soon, however. By all estimates it should return by the end of the day, tomorrow at the latest. Goose sincerely hoped so, because they were running low on bacta as well. She figured that if the fighting kept up at this rate, their meager supplies would be exhausted within two days, even if they stretched it. Already she was forced to take shortcuts, and what she would do once the bacta actually ran out, she did not know. The sooner the ship came back, the better.
Finished with the patient, and satisfied that he was stable enough to leave alone, Goose stripped off her bloodied gloves and tossed them in a corner. Days ago, she'd decided it would be better if she simply used the same pair of gloves for several patients in a row. She hated to do it, however. It was true they all shared a blood type, but the risk of contamination was still high. The only thing worse than reusing gloves is not to wear them at all, so she'd had to take measures to keep from running out. As a result, she always made sure every patient received some antibiotics. Infections were still sure to spread, though, regardless of what she did.
Goose absentmindedly brushed dirt off her fatigues, a never ending task these days with so much dust and debris hanging in the air, kicked up by countless explosions. She looked around for other patients in need of treatment, but did not see any. Jules was stretched out on the ground near the far wall, taking a well-deserved nap. Other medics were catching some sleep as well, though some were still awake and keeping a watchful eye on the wounded.
She trusted them to keep everything under control, and on a whim she decided to go outside for the first time close to two days. Goose stopped only to pick up her datapad, then continued on her way outside. For a moment, she was so taken aback that she could only stop to stare. In only the past few days, the landscape had changed so drastically as to become utterly unrecognizable. When last she had seen it, the square had actually escaped the invasion relatively unscathed, with much of its beautiful architecture still intact. Now, it shared nearly no resemblance with its former elegance.
In only two days, this part of the city had been utterly destroyed. The large plaza was in ruins, chunks of scorched masonry and charred duracrete littered the ground. Half-collapsed buildings studded the landscape. Smoke rose from still-smoldering fires that no one had the energy to put out. Burnt-out craters pockmarked the ground. Battle droids, blasted to pieces, had been roughly cleared to the sides of the streets, though no one had bothered to dispose of them. The bodies of dead troopers had been treated with more respect, though they had only been dragged into neat rows some distance behind the front line.
Those troopers still alive rested as best they could, lounging amid the rubble. Some slept, and others ate their dismal-looking field rations. Yet the majority of them sat in haggard silence, eyes looking down the empty street, dreading to hear the clanking return of the droids. The jedi were nowhere in sight, but Goose was sure they were off somewhere making a strategy, or whatever it was that generals did. She might have joined the sleeping clones, since she was plenty tired enough, but decided to hold off until after she'd made just a bit more progress on the kriffing letter.
Not far away, Goose saw Coric, who was busy treating a wounded clone. He'd probably been too stubborn to go to the first aid station to have it looked at. She walked up to see if Coric might need help, but he wordlessly waved her off. In a more serious case she would have helped him anyway, but it was only a minor shoulder wound, so she was content to leave it to him. Near him sat Rex, who happened to be shaving off a few days' worth of stubble from his bald head while resting in the shade of a partially demolished column. It was refreshing to see something so normal amid the devastation of the city around them.
With a soft sigh, Goose sat down in a sunny spot a few feet from them. She was much to worn out to make small talk, and knew that they were too, so she didn't bother with more than a polite nod toward Rex. He was a captain, after all. Then she reluctantly settled in and started carefully typing out the rest of the letter. It was slow going, however, and she found herself losing concentration every minute or two as her fatigued mind wandered from the task at hand.
Goose was exhausted. That, she knew very well. Yet for some reason, she appeared to have reached a point where she was so tired she didn't even feel it. She supposed it just meant she was going numb, which was fine by her. The past few days would have taken their toll on anybody. Thankfully, the painful memories associated with Slick faded as she ran out of time to think about them. The physical marks were disappearing as well, she hoped. In the absence of a mirror, she couldn't tell how her eye was doing, but it didn't hurt so much anymore so it had to be clearing out. That was for the better, because it had been rather uncomfortable for her to walk around looking like she'd just gotten out of a brawl.
"Steady with the polish, sir," Coric said to Rex, finally breaking the long silence. "If you shine it up any more, we'll have to put a camo net over you."
It took Goose a moment to realize he was joking. She could only attribute it to the fact that it had been so long since anyone had said anything even remotely lighthearted. As discreetly as possible, she listened intently for his response.
"Use me for signaling," Rex replied dryly. "Should be able to see me from orbit."
At that, she allowed herself a small grin. So it turned out that he was a total stick in the mud, after all. She'd wondered about that. Goose debated whether or not to jump in, and decided it best to leave the bantering between the two troopers.
"You missed a patch, sir. Going for the tufted look?" Coric continued impishly.
"Maybe a topknot," Rex deadpanned. "Or a fancy braid like those Weequay pirates."
Goose suppressed a smile as the mental image of Rex with beaded braids flashed through her mind's eye. She would have paid good credits to see such a sight. Again, she decided it best not to intrude upon their friendly ragging. Instead, she finished up her letter and read it over with scrutiny.
Dear Mom,
I am well, thank you. The Republic has recalled me from Virgillia, and I've been transferred to the Kaliida Shoals MedCenter. Don't worry, I'm safe here. The station it several parsecs away from the fighting, and the Separatists would never dream of attacking a hospital ship. The equipment here is all new, and the food is alright. I have nothing to complain about, so don't worry about me. Tell everyone back home on Nubia I'm okay, and give grandma a hug for me. I don't know how long it will be before comm channels will open up in this sector, but I'll try to give you a call as soon as possible. As always, I hope to return home soon.
Love,
Valerie
It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. Goose could think of nothing else to say, even though it was more than a little suspicious to tell her not to worry twice. Now all she had to do was wait until after the Separatists stopped jamming all communications off-world and she could send it. Meanwhile, Coric seemed to have finished tending to the trooper's shoulder.
"Running low on bacta, sir," he reported to Rex, this time with all seriousness. "Okay on analgesics for the time being."
This was nothing she didn't already know, but it still gave Goose a wave of anxiety to hear it spoken with such finality. She decided to chime in, this time.
"We're low on blood for transfusions, too," she added reluctantly, hoping not to dampen the mood further. "Only about four or five pints left."
Rex nodded gravely, and seemed to be doing quick mental calculations.
"The ship was sent back for replenishment, but it should be back in–"
Rex was never able to finish. A massive explosion, followed in quick succession by another one just as close, shook the whole street. Despite the ringing in her ears, Goose still heard the tell-tale chunk-chunk-chunk of the advancing droids.
The next wave had arrived.
A/N: As of 11/27/15 my penname has been changed from eca4411 to Ace1997. I apologize if this has caused any confusion.