Nar Shaddaa

He'd had a bad feeling all day, one hand repeatedly tightening around the strap of his kit reflexively, as if he expected to be called to action at any moment.

The small facility near Club Vertica wasn't a hospital, but it was the closest thing, and it had been taken over with shell-shocked but unwounded civilians, huddling together uncertainly. Most of them were spattered with gore from the combat.

He would have arrived sooner, but for a small matter of a comatose Zabrak in a tank.

He walked into the clinic. Still feeling quite sore. Looking at the various patients, Durasay hobbled in. "My most of me hurts, doc. You might need to amputate my brain from my neck." He spoke with a wry smile.

Cole chuckled humourlessly and brought the Pantoran through to an examination room. "Storm's coming," he murmured as he took his initial scans. Something was building and he could feel it, electricity in the air, putting him on edge when he should have been celebrating his recent work.

His spectacles sheened with faint internal light, "it looks mostly superficial, even it doesn't feel that way. Good news is: you'll live. Some painkillers, some anti-inflammatories, you'll start to feel like you were only hit by a truck, not a whole convoy."


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[D9 EE] Durasay Wound Healing (Medicine): 2eP+2eA+1eB+2eD 1 success, 4 advantage

Healed 8 wounds (1 success + 2 ranks surgeon + 5 free stimpack) and 4 strain.

[D9 EE] Durasay Wound Healing Some More (Medicine): 2eP+2eA+1eB+1eD 3 successes, 2 advantage

Healed 9 wounds (3 success + 2 ranks surgeon + 4 free stimpack) and 2 strain.

"Thanks, doc." He felt better than he had all afternoon! Which was good, considering how his night was going to go. "I can handle a single speeder truck." He looked out to the triage area, his features turning sour.

"They should be bringing in the good Colonel soon. She got it... pretty bad." There was regret and pain coloring his voice. "She lost an arm..."

Cole's mouth tightened, lines forming around his eyes, "shit." His voice is low.

"Doctor!" Greeted Alysele unusually cheerily. "Hope you've been well." She held her left arm stiffly.

"It's the arm again. The rest I can handle."

Cole indicated for Alysele to come through and sit on the examination table. He turned on his new spectacles with a tap, if he was worried that they would take some getting used to, today had proven significant practice.

He looked at her injured shoulder, fortunately most of the crucial internal structures had been spared. He set about patching her up.


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[D9 EE] Alysele Critical Injury (Medicine): 2eP+2eA+1eB+3eD 3 successes, 1 advantage

Critical Injury: Crippled removed

[D9 EE] Alysele Wound Healing (Medicine): 2eP+2eA+1eB+2eD 2 successes, 2 advantage

Healed: 9 wounds (2 success + 2 ranks surgeon + 5 free stimpack) and 2 strain.

"Thank you. Like your glasses. Everything okay?" She seemed concerned.

Cole ran a hand through his hair, "sure is," he lied smoothly. The guardedness he wore back when he'd first arrived on the moon was in his expression once more.

Hala limped in to the impromptu triage center. Her belt-tourniquet was still fastened an inch or two above her crudely severed stump and while the detritus has been wrapped up very little had been done to actually clean the wound.

Cole's brow furrowed as unrestrained concern flooded his features. Perhaps the Imperial expected cool professionalism in the face of her grevious wound, but it was not his nature. Still, he didn't try to speak and he helped her over to the exam table and had her lay back.

To his credit, he did not wince or grimace as he pulled away the impromptu dressing and tourniquet. Wordlessly infiltrating the area with a local anaesthetic before he began trimming away damaged flesh, closing severed arteries and veins. There was very little he could do apart from provide best possible chance a cybernetic limb would successfully take.

The diagnostic spectacles fed him constant information, showing him the cocktail of drugs already in her system from the stimpacks. Mentally, he adjusted to compensate.


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Rolls ghosted before day flip.
[D9 EE] Col Hala Critical Injury (Medicine): 2eP+2eA+1eB+3eD 4 successes

Critical Injury: Maimed triaged, cannot remove.

[D9 EE] Col Hala Wound Healing (Medicine): 2eP+2eA+1eB+2eD 1 success, 1 advantage

Healed: 6 wounds (1 success + 2 ranks surgeon + 3 free stimpack) and 1 strain.

[D9 EE] Col Hala Wound Healing Some More (Medicine): 2eP+2eA+1eB+1eD 4 successes

Healed: 6 wounds (4 success + 2 ranks surgeon) and 0 strain.

It was all Hala could do to get on the table before collapsing. She slipped off her uniform jacket, and as she did the holofields helping keep her features in check flickered away and died leaving her skin wrinkled, pale, and wan. Dutifully, she lay as still as she could though she hissed, squirmed, and swore until the anesthetic kicked in. Once it did though, her pulse dropped quickly and she was quite still.

She mouthed the word "Thank-" up to her doctor before her eyes rolled back and out of focus.

When Cole was done administering, he turned down the lights. He pulled a stool close to the table and took the Colonel's remaining hand in both of his own, holding it gently and allowing her to rest. The mediscanner had been set to a wide scan, and placed in a clamp overhead. It fed the data stream directly to his spectacles. He waited for Hala to wake in her own time.

Hala's hand twitched as she started coming back around.

"T-thank you," she said quietly, swallowing once before getting the rest out.

Cole instinctively squeezed her hand, "try to relax, you're safe here, and you've been through a lot."

Hala's eyes unfocused then refocused slightly on the face above her.

"Who're you?"

"Petty Officer Cole Ormont, surgeon, Galactic Republic Navy. I'm here for the Peace Talks. I've been working to try and see that the delegates go back home in as close to one piece as possible." A kindly, lopsided smile curls his lip, "you've certainly not been making it easy."

"Hala Moraal, Colonel. Imperial Navy. Serial number Xray Charlie Delta niner two seven Golf eight-," she said, sputtering briefly before turning her head to the side and coughing. She breathed in deeply and turned her face back up at Cole with a faint smile, "eight six. Sorry about the mess."

Cole helps Hala sit up a little, his arm around her is skinny, but strong enough to support her. He offers her some water, "how much do you remember?"

"I remember fighting Azanak. I remember my arm on the floor, I remember him surrendering, I remember following Durasay.... I remember, your face?" She said, slowly working through the afternoon and evening.

"Good, that's excellent. Better than expected." Cole smiled warmly, "how are you feeling? I didn't want to give you too much for the pain, but you have lost a lot of blood."

"It hurts... Less than I thought," she said, partly surprised by her answer.

"That'll come," he promised, massaging his own thigh, and promising himself a hit of painkillers before the huttball game.

"Shock, right? Or is it still what you gave?" she asked back.

"A little bit of both." Concern takes over his expression again, "it's going to get bad," he sees no sense in sugar-coating it. "Your arm will hurt, the one you lost. Drugs can help trick your brain into believing that the pain is being treated, but there won't be anything doctors can do to take that pain away. Never completely."

He ran his hand through his blonde curls, "the sooner you can be fitted for a prosthetic, the better the chance that your body will adopt it. The less time you have to adapt to living without a limb, the less your brain has to rewire itself to that."