Fifty Seven

It had been a lot harder than she thought.

She did one at a time, seven hours and fifty three minutes to perform the bilateral above knee amputations and then reattach the prosthetic limbs. Therein lay the anomaly. As a surgeon, she should keep as much of the functioning stump as possible. The new limbs were to be attached mid thigh, and she couldn't help but feel angst at removing normal, healthy tissue.

Text book.

Only once did she break into a sweat on the second leg. She hadn't clamped the femoral artery tight enough and the metal clip had sprung free, splattering arterial blood across her face, momentarily phasing her. With no nurse or team of people to mop up or rely on, she battled her way through, smearing his blood across her cheek as she regained control, cursing under her breath at her stupidity.

"Unassisted," she muttered to herself as she watched the man being lowered into the tank. Even though it wasn't the complex surgery she was used to performing in her heyday, Marlo felt a sense of immense satisfaction at what she had achieved for the young soldier.

She was well on the way to redemption.

Exhausted, she pulled off her gloves and blood stained gown before allowing herself the luxury of a seat. The B1 Med Droid brought her in a glass of muju juice and left it on the bench next to her.

Seven hours and fifty three minutes. "We did it Echo, we did it."

Dr Lane sat and drank the cool, sweet liquid as she typed out and entered the orders for the mechanical droid to take over while she went to sleep. Barring any disaster in the prison, she knew the next seventy two hours were critical in the healing process. The longer the stay in the tank, the better.

She looked at the naked man suspended and smiled. It was a boost to her battered ego, one she needed to spur her on in her quest for survival in a prison where little else mattered.

He mattered though.

She still knew very little about him. Marlo had watched Echo over the months. His incessant need for perfection and knowledge admirable. She noted his impeccable manners and superior intellect. As a surgeon, she appreciated that. Often, at the end of her shift, after they had eaten, he would lie on his make shift bed in her room and they would discuss the politics involving the war. She was amazed at how well read Echo was, and how, more often than not he would surprise her with his untainted view of the obvious. No hidden agenda, just plain and simple. It was refreshing and she found herself looking forward to the end of her day where she would share the boring and the mundane to his exciting discovery of something he had read or researched during her time in the Infirmary. This, coupled with his physical discipline, would make the rehabilitation easier for him once he was out of the Bacta. That was however, when her new dilemma began. She knew he would be keen to escape the prison, and ultimately, her.

She allowed herself a long shower and while pulling on her robe she noticed the light turn on in her room.

He was there, again.

Sitting on the end of her cot he waited for her to return. Marlo quickly looked around and noticed some of Echo's bedding protruding from under her modest bed spread. She stopped and smiled.

"Is there something you want to tell me," the Warden questioned.

Marlo thought fast, she was tired, but everything now rested on her. Everything Echo had been through was now depending on how she handled this moment. She continued forward and just smiled, slipping the robe from her shoulders as she walked, the Devaronian eyeing the naked woman heading towards him, a crooked smile creeping across his hairy face.

He was unusually kind, this time. Allowing her some dignity throughout the routine visit he had begun all those weeks ago. Or were they months, she could no longer remember. Marlo had to play it cool, not doing anything too differently in case the Warden sensed she was up to something. She would guard the door to the Infirmary with her life – if she had to.

Seventy two hours; three days, three visits.

On the last evening he appeared to be in particular bad humour. She didn't offer any more than she normally did, the act behind his visit always made bile rise in the back of her throat. But it was all part of her plan. Her plan to redeem herself for the reason she was incarcerated in a droyk hole of a prison on a droyk hole of a planet.

As he was beginning to dress she moved up and stood, readjusting her clothes and looked him in the eye, the disgust still written all over her face. He saw it, and the revolt shook him to the core.

"How dare you look at me?" he bellowed, raising a fur coated hand and swiping it hard across her left cheek. The ring he wore caught her porcelain skin, causing it to bleed. She was startled, she had never been hit by a male before. Bewildered, she stood and wiped her blood from her face, staring at the Warden in astonishment.

He raised another arm and sent her crashing across the small room, her head hitting the side of her bed.

"Argh," she cried out cowering on the floor, he stood over her, readying himself for another onslaught when the siren sounded.

"You'll wait," he hissed as he pulled his pistol out and left her bleeding and sore.

#

Marlo sat and waited for the usual cuts and abrasions that followed a cell fight. This time was different. Two men in grey jumpsuits brought in the badly injured Gotal on a repulsorlift stretcher.

They looked at her in a lewd way before they turned and left.

Marlo immediately assessed the patient. His injuries weren't critical, and nothing that couldn't be fixed in the Bacta tank.

If only it were free.

She looked again at the unconscious man in front of her and pulled a drawer open. She didn't say anything, she merely placed an intravenous line in his left arm before depressing the syringe attached to it.

She felt nothing. How could she? There was nothing left to feel.

The Warden arrived soon after, not making eye contact with the doctor he pulled the white sheet back from the dead alien.

"What! He's dead?"

"I'm sorry Sir, there was nothing I could do. His head injuries were just, too extensive."

She stood over the body, her hands supported by the transparisteel gurney, fortifying her.

The Warden looked up slowly, his eyes suspicious. She played along, tilting her head back in question.

"I'll send someone in to transport him down to the furnace."

"Thank you Sir," she replied as she placed the sheet back over the alien's face. She was now as calculating as the inmates in the prison, more blood on her hands, her murder tally now raised to two.

Marlo headed to the refresher and turned the tap on and systematically placed her head under the cool running water. She looked up in the mirror and watched as it ran off her face. She no longer recognised herself. Gone was the perfectly coiffed hair, the meticulous makeup, replaced by a hastily tied pony tail and lined skin.

'No, this is not me,' she thought as she reached for a hand towel and wiped her face, opening up the cabinet and grabbing her cosmetic kit. Rolling up a black tube with gold writing on it she outlined her lips in red.

"Tomorrow Echo. Tomorrow. It's time to wake up."

#

Echo stared at the two limbs in front of him, the point of connection still bare from synthetic skin for any minor readjustments. He watched as the mechanical tendons flexed as he wiggled his toes.

He had yet to adjust to the new limbs mentally. Being a clone soldier bred specifically to destroy droids he hated the idea of almost becoming one. He remembered Fives told him once how General Skywalker had regretted his biomechanical arm after the initial battle on Geonosis. And here he was, half man half machine. He needed to push it out of his mind, the only thing to focus on now was to get used to them, and get home to Freya and his child.

"Are you ready Echo?"

It was 1800 hours and Marlo had quit for the day. The closed circuit monitor feed had been re-established and they stood in the Infirmary, Echo clad only in his black Republic shorts.

Marlo lent forward and replaced the bandage, covering the flashing lights and circuitry of his new limbs.

"OK." He replied.

"Right, place all your weight through your arms. There should be minimum pain as the electrical pulses should block all nerve signals back to your spine."

"I'm too heavy for you to hold." He seemed scared.

"It's OK Echo, I can take your weight momentarily. You'll be standing by yourself almost instantaneously. Trust me, you'll be fine." He looked up into her eyes and she noticed him set his jaw tight.

"Right, let's do it." His voice a little louder, a little stronger.

"On three."

He stopped her, "is that one, two, three, or one, two, three, go?"It was Echo after all, he wanted to make sure he had it clear right from the outset.

Marlo laughed out loud. She was as excited as him. "One, two, three, go."

He gave a quick nod, still wearing a determined look on his face.

"One, two, three, go," she moved forward and grabbed his torso, Echo placing his arms squarely on her shoulders. He was heavy, but she was right, within seconds he was bearing his full weight through his new legs.

"Ha, you did it!" She exclaimed.

"Ye – yeah," Echo blew hard, standing he looked at his legs, then to her and his face beamed.

"How does it feel, any pain?"

"Good, no." He placed his hands on his hips and looked at her again.

"OK, how about you take a step?"

Echo nodded and mentally prepared himself to move a leg.

"Just think about where you are placing your feet." He reached his hands out in front to her, and she unwittingly took a hold, the pair intent on watching his feet.

He struggled and shuffled a foot forward, followed slowly by the other.

"Well done Echo, I told you you'd walk again!"

Echo nodded quickly and stood silent for a moment.

"Echo?"

He then shook his head, sniffing away the mucous running from his sinuses.

"I never thought - ," he stopped, fighting hard to regain his emotions. Marlo took the cue.

"Let's try that again shall we?"

#