#19 A Bad Day Gets Worse
Goose was getting sick of all the dirt. She was covered in it, her patients were covered in it, and no matter what she did her instruments were covered in it, too. How could she be expected to perform surgery while grubbing around in the least sterile environment she could possibly imagine? At this point, it was far worse than anything on Virgillia. The groans of the newly wounded filled the first aid station as they gradually staggered in, and she started to grit her teeth in frustration.
It didn't help her mood that the relief supplies hadn't arrived yet. She'd seen the shuttle set down less than a half hour ago, but the supplies had yet to show up. The last unit of blood had just been given to a trooper with a punctured lung, and their reserves of bacta were all but gone. Antibiotics were running low as well, because she'd been giving a dose of it to every patient. Of course, that was only because of the dirt. Regardless, at least half of her patients would soon start developing staph infections from all the exposure to bacteria. She was sure of it.
With a grunt, Goose stood and glanced at the triage area to look for other patients requiring surgery. There were none, and for that she was relieved. There were still a half dozen walking wounded, those with minor injuries, but she trusted the medics to take care of them. At the moment, she had a much more important goal. She was going to track down those supplies, wherever they were, whatever it took.
The first, and most obvious, place she looked was the shuttle itself. However, the craft was completely empty. Not a single crate was in the cargo hold, and there weren't any nearby the shuttle, either. Goose let out a long-suffering sigh, then snagged the nearest trooper and asked him where to find Skywalker. As a general, he would have to know what had happened to her supplies. She soon found out that he was at the observation post, way up on the top floor of the only skyscraper not utterly destroyed from weeks of bombings.
Still, the building had not been completely spared. The exterior walls had been made entirely from transparisteel, and much of it had shattered, so that the ground in and around it was treacherous to walk on. Goose soon found out that the damage was not just superficial. Much to her dismay, it seemed that power lines above the thirty-ninth floor were out, so she'd have to hike up the last seven flights of stairs on foot. By the time she reached the roof, she was just the slightest bit winded and her bad knee ached.
As she pushed open the door, which one of those old-fashioned hinged ones, she heard an oddly high-pitched voice coming from somewhere near the edge of the roof. It was a little shrill, and Goose immediately recognized it as female. That was odd, since she'd though all of the civilians had evacuated before ground troops had landed. However, after being around no one but soldiers for a month, she was ready to see another woman. The voice sounded young as well, as if from a child. As she turned the corner, she was surprised to see a petite Togruta girl, arms crossed, scowling at Skywalker.
"I'm still here, Skyguy," she complained petulantly. "Stop talking about me as if I'm not."
Goose had to stifle a snort of laughter as she watched that tiny girl, hands on hips, stick out her chin defiantly. Who did she think she was, anyway? However, her curiosity was piqued, so she studied her a little more closely. Like most Togruta, this youth's skin was an earthy sienna, and white markings decorated her face. In addition to her diminutive stature, it was easy to tell that she was barely even an adolescent because her headtails, or montrals, had yet to reach maturity. Oddly, she was dressed in a tube top and miniskirt, and Goose thought it to be rather skimpy for a child her age.
All of this left her rather confused. Who was she, and what was she doing here? It wasn't safe, that was for sure. Skywalker didn't seem all too happy with her either, if his clenched jaw was any indication. He looked close to snapping, and it wouldn't come as a surprise to Goose if he did. She almost laughed a second time as she watched his face grow redder with anger. Skyguy. She hoped it stuck.
"What did you call me?" Skywalker demanded hotly, "Look, don't get snippy with me, youngling. You're not even old enough to be a padawan."
Suddenly, it made a little more sense, and Goose finally noticed the lightsaber clipped to her belt, though it didn't look as if it belonged there. She must have come down in the shuttle. But why would he have taken an apprentice? Skywalker certainly didn't seem to be the type that would do something like that, and he hardly looked old enough himself. Besides, it was the middle of a war. Such an immature girl had no place here, especially dressed like that. Her scanty outfit offered no protection from anything the droid army might throw at her, and would do her little good once the temperature dropped at night.
As could have been expected, the supposed padawan didn't react well to the reprimand, and she drew herself up to her full height, though that wasn't saying much. She really was tiny. Goose considered interrupting them there, so that she could ask about the supplies, but decided against it. She'd never seen Skywalker quite so flustered before, and she wanted to enjoy it as much as possible.
"I'm not a youngling," she protested resentfully. "I'm fourteen."
That time, Goose laughed out loud, but quietly enough that the arguing pair didn't notice it. The other clones on the roof, Rex among them, were studiously looking the other way, but she knew that all of them were watching out of the corners of their eyes, and probably getting a good laugh out of it as well. It seemed that Rex could no longer take it, and he took off his helmet, though somehow he kept a straight face.
"I'm ten," he said, totally deadpan, "but I'm tall for my age."
Goose laughed even harder at that, watching the padawan get completely thrown off by it. A while ago, Jules had told her that clones aged at an accelerated rate. It had disturbed her to know that they were all less than half her age, but it didn't seem to bother the clones themselves, so at this point she just quietly accepted it. Besides, it was amusing to watch her regain her composure. It had been far too long since she'd laughed like this. Thinking it too good of a chance to pass up, Goose jumped in as well.
"And I'm twenty-three." she added impishly, "Do I win?"
The Togruta's face was a study in indignation. Like Rex, Goose tried to keep a straight face, though it was a bit of a struggle. Skywalker did give her a sharp look, but he continued to stand there with silent ire.
"Anyway," the ruffled padawan said hurriedly, before anyone else could interrupt, "Master Yoda thinks I'm old enough."
That seemed to push Skywalker over the edge. In fact, Goose wasn't sure why he'd even put up with it for so long. He was a general, after all, and really couldn't afford to look foolish in front of his men. Not that it mattered to her, of course. As far as she was concerned, this was all just some well-deserved entertainment.
"Master Yoda is light-years away," Skywalker said lowly, though his displeasure was clear. "So if you're ready, you've got to start proving it. Captain Rex here will show you how a little respect can go a long way."
Rex struggled to keep his expression neutral, although he could not stop a grimace from getting through.
"Very good, sir," he replied with slight reluctance, then gestured towards the stairs. "Come on, youngling."
Goose was sure he'd only called her a youngling to rile her up, because she heard her insolently mutter padawan under her breath as she followed after him. No matter how diverting that had been, she was relieved she would finally find those long-awaited supplies. First, however, she felt the need to exploit the moment just a bit more.
"So, what's with the new padawan?" she asked Skywalker slyly.
His eyes flashed with sudden irritation, and she saw his jaw clench once more. For a moment, Goose wondered if she'd pushed a little too far.
"That kid is not my padawan," Skywalker snapped, though it wasn't directed entirely at her. "I'm sending her back to the Temple on the next shuttle off this world."
She decided that she probably wasn't aware of the whole situation, and it was best to just leave it at that. Besides, she still had more important things to worry about.
"Uh…right," she continued after he'd calmed down a bit. "Anyway, where are the medical supplies from the shuttle? They never made it to the first aid station."
At that, he forced out a short, humorless laugh.
"Medical supplies?" Skywalker nearly spat, "There aren't any."
Immediately, Goose was angry. An entire shuttle had been sent down, and they didn't think to pack even a few crates of bacta and blood on it? She knew that the military could be backwards at times, but this was a new level of madness. Men were dying down on the surface, and those nerf herders in the fleet didn't seem to give a skrag.
"Do you mean to tell me," she said coldly, "that they packed that shuttle full of ammunition and troops but didn't bother to add so much as a hypospray?"
"No," he responded with just as much resentment. "I meant that the only thing that came out of the shuttle was my so-called padawan."
Goose could only stare at him with a mixture of shock and confusion. There had been nothing on that shuttle? It was little wonder he was so frustrated with that girl, despite her obvious immaturity. How could they ever hope to win without reinforcements? More importantly, what was she supposed to do? Her own medkit was already nearly depleted, and the rest of the medics were no better off. If the next wave is anything like the last one, she wasn't sure what she was going to do.
"You can't be serious," Goose protested incredulously. "Why didn't they pack supplies onto the shuttle with her?"
Skywalker's expression darkened, and he clenched his fists tighter.
"No one ever received our calls for help," he said dejectedly. "The Sep blockade jammed everything. You and the medics will just have to make do."
Her anger had been building slowly up until then, but at that moment it flared up. At that moment, she doubted he cared about anything beyond fighting the war, but winning was only half the battle. It would be a hollow victory if men who could have been saved died anyway. She wondered if he'd thought about that.
"Make do? I can't just make do," Goose practically hissed in fury. "I've got my own war to fight, and at this point all I'm armed with is bandages and hyposprays. It isn't enough."
She knew that arguing wouldn't solve anything, but this was just too much. It was as if the Republic didn't give a psadan's patoot whether they lived or died.
"Doctor, I am aware of your situation," Skywalker said stiffly, "but there is nothing any of us can do except sit tight."
Goose took a deep breath to calm herself down. For once, he had a point. She couldn't afford to waste energy over something she couldn't change.
"I will do my best, but I'll be limited by my lack of supplies," she replied at length, once she'd regained her composure. "A pint of blood can mean the difference between life and death for some of these men. I don't know what I'll without any."
Skywalker nodded solemnly. Perhaps he had thought of these things before, after all.
"If there's time, I can authorize you to draw blood from healthy troopers," he offered. "I'm sure plenty will volunteer."
She had considered this idea long ago, and though it had merit, there was no way it could work in this situation.
"No," Goose sighed, shaking her head. "It makes little sense to take blood from the same men who will be receiving it. Besides, it will make them weaker and lightheaded for a while. No one can afford that danger, especially now."
He didn't seem to be listening anymore, however. Skywalker's attention had been turned towards the horizon, where Goose slowly noticed a reddish glow. Not sure what that meant, she could only watch in confusion as he pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars to get a better look. From his devastated expression, it was not good.
"What is it?" she demanded, unable to take it anymore.
Skywalker stayed silent for another few moments that slipped by slowly, a look on his face she could only describe as horrified. Dread welled up in her too, although she hadn't a clue what was scaring him so badly. Were the droids coming back?
"An energy shield," he finally whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "They're marching their troops behind the edge of it, where our heavy cannons can't reach them. They'll be right on top of us before we can target their tanks…"
Goose felt her mouth dry out in fear as she heard those words. The red glow was more distinct now, and she could see the dome of energy as is crept along, though from the top of the building they were on the advancing ranks of droids were only a dark smudge. Already, the some of the clones in the observation post were hurrying down the stairs to prepare for the assault as others urgently asked Skywalker for orders. He started barking out commands, then disappeared down the stairs as well, practically sprinting down the steps.
She didn't hear much of what they said, but the message was clear. If the droids reached the heavy cannons, they were done for. Suddenly, a realization hit like a ton of bricks. There were close to thirty wounded men recovering in the first aid station, and they were directly in the path of the advancing droids. They had to be evacuated. Now.