Vast Empire Hospital, a twenty story building the middle of the city of one of the Empire's major ports.  The doctors and nurses of the hospital see everything from soldier's wives giving birth to removing warts.  In times of peace the hospital would be staffed by civilians, but times of peace were rare and currently the hospital was under staffed and too many accidents were happening due to nurses and doctors that were too exhausted from long double shifts.  Which is why the Medical General of the Vast Empire instilled the policy that all Medics not on missions would be required to work in the hospital.  Which would give question who did work harder for the Empire, granted that all skills were needed during a mission, but on time off other specialists got paperwork or leave.  So once again Medics were put to work in the hospital, having to put away what they learned for battle and work in a clinical setting.


"I am not working in the maternity ward!" Namyr growled her hands in fists as she spoke to the Head Nurse behind the counter, the large female Wookiee looked at Namyr like she was a child having a tantrum.  Namyr frowned so much her forehead wrinkled, she hated working at the hospital, from the gray scrubs she had to wear and to the fact that just because she was female they assumed she'd be thrilled to work with babies.  Namyr shuddered a little, not that she didn't want kids someday, but at the current moment she didn't have the patience to handle crying, feeding, changing, puking babies.  Namyr pulled on one of her ribboned Lekku, her other hand out of habit reached to her hip where her blades usually were, but found only cloth and the painful memory that her blades had been shattered on her last mission.
   
"You're not in combat so no use in thinking about using whatever weapon you usually use," The Head Nurse spoke through a series of growls and roars.

Namyr winced and grinded her teeth, "Listen I don't care where I go as long as it's not maternity, I'm a solider not a den mother," Namyr said carefully trying to keep her temper in check.

'Fine, we've been needing someone to work with Doctor Stimmer in the ER," the Head Nurse said a gleeful smile appearing on her face.

Namyr had no idea why the Wookiee was looking so happy, who was Dr. Stimmer? "Fine," she said coolly taking the records and turning around to head to the ER which was already starting to fill with patients.  The morning had started out so nicely too, she had woken up at her usual time around five in the morning to a pair of arms around her.  She wouldn't admit it but she did secretly like it when Riq stayed the night the once in a blue moon they were home at the same time between being off on missions with their squads, or ARC Lambda.  She had quietly slipped out of bed, left a quick note on the mirror in the bathroom, packed two lunches for Riq to bring along, then headed out for a long run to the hospital.  It was about a six mile run, though Namyr had enjoyed the semi-forest that surrounded the hospital on her run.  She had to give the founders credit, building a hospital in a park was very relaxing and nice for the patients.  After a quick shower in the locker room, Namyr had changed into the gray scrubs that were given to her and placed a nametag over her right breast and was ready for the day.  That is until she looked at the schedule and saw that she had been put in, which brought her to her current bad mood. 



((Okay folks here it is, this is mainly for the medics on the boards, but you can join as a patient if you want.  So everyone posting just relax and have fun with it, through in a couple puns, after we get going then we can start throwing serious medical cases in and whatnot))

You know those mornings when you wake up feeling extremely sensitive? Maybe Riq had a really disturbing dream where he was captured by aliens that resembled Dr. Freez and forced him to listen to old volumes of waiting room magazines being read aloud by Dr. Godot. After which he was strung up by his toe nails, dipped in pesto, and left for the crows to peck him to death. Could be, but he also would really rather not think about that.

The alarm went off at 5:03am. Riq lay there for a few moments, listening to the song that happened to be playing on the radio when it automatically turned on. It was “A Stupid World” by some Bith band. Maybe it was the song’s fault he was feeling this way. Only he knew that was not true since he woke up before the radio went off, and he already felt heavy and…sad? No, it couldn’t be sadness. As a general rule Riq don’t get sad. No, that wasn’t the right word. What is it? Vulnerable? Maybe...

Riq slowly turned his head and blinked at the radio. This song seemed to be a rather fitting one to wake up to. He thought he’d like to nurture his mood today. Really feed it. If he could carry around a portable music player at the hospital, he would have this song on repeat as a soundtrack to his world at present. The thought almost made him smile. Almost.

A part of Riq was really tempted to ignore the time and finish listening to the song. It’s so pleasantly haunting. Mellow and dark. I love it.

Namyr’s cleaning droid rolled into the room, and beeped something at Riqimo.  Riq blink a couple more times. Now would be a great time to drift off into a Riqimo fantasy world where droids don’t beep at you first thing in the morning and everything is sooo shiny and happy. But, his brain wasn’t cooperating today and that just wasn’t going to happen. The song was ending anyway, and he suppose it would be better to shut it off before some overly eager radio announcer comes on and interrupted the last notes of the song, killing the mood.

Oh wait, the damn droid already did that...

We did mention that Riq was feeling a little sensitive today, didn’t we? Well, he is.  He can quite often let things like morning irritability and beeping roll off his back, smile, and go about his day. Like everyone else, though, Riqimo have those days where that is a wee bit more difficult than normal. And this being an overly sensitive day... yeah... you get the point.

Riqimo reach over slowly and turn off his radio. He has been told that his face gives away his feelings almost instantaneously to people that knew him well, pretty much like a neon sign blinking above his head. He was a little worried about what that was going to mean today. I think my reminder to self to avoid everyone includes not letting anyone get a good look at my face, doesn’t it?

So, I’m not looking at Namyr. Eye contact is definitely out. And I’m tired. Faking happiness takes energy. Can you have a flat affect and be overly sensitive at the same time?  I don’t want to get up. But if I don’t then I’ll get beeped at some more by the droid and then yelled at later by people who can be far more vicious than a mere cleaning droid. And it would be in a public setting. I’m not sure I would deal very well with that today.
Riq just decided to hell with this thoughts and got up, got ready, and zoned out in the shower, which received another angry beeping from the cleaning droid that wanted to scrub the shower.

Sighing as he turned off the water, Riq slowly dried himself just to mock the droid and quickly got dressed so he would make it in time for his usual shift, grabbing the two lunches sitting by the door on his way out.

...  ...  ...

Just got off the bus outside the hospital and... freeze.

“There’s got to be a way out of this.”

Riq knew he said that out loud. Or more like murmured. He didn’t even look around to see if anyone heard him. I’m going to try to stick to my no eye contact policy today. Which is part of the reason why he was frozen in place. Walking across the park and into the hospital will most definitely mean running into people.

It’s actually quite chilly out here, and Riq really was not dressed for the weather. His teeth were chattering, and he know that if he just relaxed his muscles he wouldn’t be shaking so much. Riqimo’s eyes were also starting to water and he was sooo grateful that it’s because of the cold and not because he was a sissy.

Squinting slightly, Riqimo could see the janitor through the door. Another reason why he is frozen. Sensitive days are not good days to be near the janitor. He had just looked Riq’s way and gave the medic the death threat point-trail-finger-along-throat move. Not good. NOT GOOD! Maybe if I stand here long enough I’ll freeze in place semi-permanently and will have a valid excuse for not going into work today.

Riqimo swallow a sure-to-be-girly scream as someone roughly brushes past him, slamming the medic with their shoulder. Riqimo didn’t recognize the man, and he didn’t seem to care that he practically body slammed the short fellow. It’s best not to react. Not to say anything.

Am I invisible? Is that why no one is acknowledging my existence? Maybe this whole avoiding people thing will be easier than I thought today.  Riqimo could almost smile with relief. Until he remembered that even though most of his being wants to fade away completely, there is a part of him that is now feeling rejected and disliked. Ignored. Unimportant. And now I’m back to wanting to cry.

Miraculously Riq make his feet move, and he blink away the threatening tears and hope that he looked like he was cold, and not like he just lost his whole squad and he didn’t win the sexist sergeant competition.

OOC:

I had some time, so...well, here's a post. Enjoi!

Arnaut stumbled into the hospital. Or at least he hoped it was the hospital, otherwise he was screwed. Another dizzy spell hit him and he held onto the door jamb for support. His vision swam, and for a second he thought he was going to black out. He managed to keep awake and upright though, and practically ran the last few feet to the reception desk. The lady there was plump with rosy cheeks and a wide, white smile.

“Welcome to the VE hospital, how may I help--“ Arnaut threw up all over the receptionist and her computer. What remained of his dinner and bits of his lunch sloshed over the woman’s papers and onto the floor, already congealing into little pools. Right off the bat it stunk. Nearby, one of the junior hospital staff took a whiff and passed out.

“I see. How disagreeable,” the receptionist mumbled to herself. Her smile came back almost immediately. “Please, if you’ll just take a waiting card, we’ll be with you shortly.” She indicated to a stack of slips, each numbered numerically.

“I don’t think you underst--“ He choked up, almost drenching her again, before continuing, “I need medical attention...NOW.”

“You will take a slip now, and have a seat, or I will have the security take you out back, beat you, and leave your body in the dumpster. Do I make myself clear?” The smile never faded, and her voice was nothing but cheerful, but her eyes did take on a sadistic glean. Arnaut took a wary step back before grabbing a slip and hurrying over to his seat. “Have a nice wait!” She called cheerfully.

Stumbling to a halt, he barely just collapsed in his chair before spewing again. His eyes were bleary and his insides were burning.

“Rough day, huh?” the man next to him asked in a gruff voice.

“Uh-huh,” Arnaut nodded, not looking up. Suddenly, the air around him seemed a bit...hotter. Looking up, he noticed the man next to him was engulfed in flames, head to foot.

“How long you been in line?” Arnaut asked hesitantly.

“Two hours. Burned through forty-three magazines already,” he replied, staring at the rapidly disintegrating book in his hands. “Forty-four.”

A man hobbled in through the front door. There were tears in his eyes as he limped his way over to the desk It looked as if he had a scrape on his knee. But surely he couldn’t be coming for that. No, that’d just be silly.

“I fwell down, and now I have a boo-boo on my knee,” he sobbed to the lady.

“There, there,” she responded with mock sympathy. At least Arnaut hoped it was mock. “We’ll get you fixed up alright. Just go sit in room one.”

“What!?” Arnaut exclaimed, standing up in outrage. “How come he gets to go, and I ‘m here hacking up my intestines and I don’t even get looked at!?”

“I deemed him to be in much greater need of medical attention than you. Please, take a seat,” she responded in a very calm voice. She also nodded to one of the security guards by the door, who loosened up his baton a little and gave Arnaut a stare that froze his blood. Arnaut didn’t feel like he had enough strength in him to fight, so he sat back down. And threw up again, but those were becoming more commonplace every minute to him.

There was a space in which Arnaut phased out for a while. Everything just went blurry and then...there was yelling. Finally, he though. They saw me pass out and they’re going to give me medical attention! But nothing happened. The shouting continued, urgent.

“Doctor, he’s going critical, hurry!” A nurse yelled from the doorway of one of the rooms. A broad man in an obviously doctor’s uniform ran into the room. A company of seven nurses followed him in as well as two junior doctors. They all crowded into the tiny space of room one.

Room one!? But that’s the guy that... The voices became more urgent, and could almost be made out.

“..scalpel, quick! We’re running out of time!”

“Apply pressure there, hurry, he’s bleeding out!”

“Where is it, where is it, where is it? Doctor, I can’t find the source of the bleeding!”

“We’re losing him!”

“Blood pressure is dropping!”

“Don’t you die on me! I can’t let another one die! Not this way!”

“He’s fading!”

“He’s not going to make it!” Then, odd after all the yelling, silence, punctuated only by the steady whine of the heart monitor. The doctor came out somber faced and stood in front of a couple waiting outside the door. He whispered a few words, and the woman starting crying on her husband’s shoulder. Slowly, the doctor stood up and went off, the other  nurses and junior doctors running after him. After about five minutes, a janitor came by, slung the corpse of the unfortunate man over his shoulder, and whistled his way down to the furnace.

Arnaut, pale-faced, clutched his knees to his chest and rocked slowly back and forth. He didn’t hear the receptionist the first time she called his name. She called a second time. He didn’t respond. Finally, the security guard by the door grabbed him by both arms and lifted him over to the counter.

“It’s your time, Mr. Arnaut,” the receptionist said merrily. “The doctor will have you now!”

“Oh no...no, no, no, no, no! You can’t make me go into that death trap of yours!” The security guard behind him growled. “Okay,” Arnaut squeaked.

Two white garbed men came with a stretcher, tossed Arnaut aboard, and then they were off, speeding as fast as the men could run. The hallways seemed to flow past and mix together. Everything was so white. Always pristine white. It hurt Arnaut’s eyes. He vomited again.

“Jeez, buddy, big problem there, eh? What’s wrong with you? Something you ate?” The first one asked rapidly.

“I had...some pizza. Maybe a beer or two. It’s all...all a little hazy,” Arnaut said. More dinner sloshed to the floor as they sped down the hallways.

“Oh surely it’s more than that! Right Fred? It’s always more than that!” His partner – Fred – nodded enthusiastically.

“Well...we did have a chugging contest of...something. Epicack? Ipecac?”

“Ipecac? Never heard o’ that? How ‘bout you Jeff?” They stopped suddenly, almost tossing Arnaut from the stretcher, as Jeff thought up his answer. Arnaut moaned for them to go on, but they largely ignored him.

“Oh, ipecac is a liquid emetic; like all emetics, it makes people vomit, and is used mostly in cases of accidental poisoning or swallowing harmful substances. Some side effects include vomiting, throwing up, puking, retching, spewing, up-chucking, nausea, diarrhea, strong desire to commit suicide—“

“Jeff,” Fred said sternly. His foot kicked the lock accidentally, and it disengaged.

“What?” Arnaut began to roll down the hallway.

“You’re doing it again?” Arnaut moaned something unintelligible and threw up over the side of the stretcher. The two didn’t notice him.

“Doing what?” Arnaut began to pick up speed; the hallway, for some odd reason, sloped downward.

“Acting like the commercials! You always do this, whenever you get...” their voices faded into the distance as they began to argue, Arnaut completely forgotten. He was going faster now, sending people flying out of the way. He puked as he went, plastering the walls in a motley yellow-green color. He needed to get to the ER, he knew that much, but the signs were flying past to fast. Reaching his arm out blindly, he caught one of the janitorial staff and lifted him onto the stretcher.

“Which way to ER?” he asked hurriedly.

“Alright, now you want to take your next left, go down there for about three halls, from there you want to take the right side in the fork you’ll come across, then just down the ramp, through the dungeon room, and you’ll be in the ER.”

“Thanks...” Arnaut managed, throwing the man off again.

“Anytime!” he yelled back as he smashed into the wall of the hallway and slumped to a crumpled heap on the floor.

Arnaut took the left, careening around the corner sharply as he tried to steer the runaway stretcher. Through the hallways, a right on the fork, through the dungeons. Dungeons. He still didn’t know why a hospital needed dungeons, but he didn’t really have the time to ponder it at the moment.

With a speed unmatched by a runaway stretcher ever before or again, Arnaut burst through the doors of the ER. The blow sent the currently occupying patient out the door and into one of the hospital’s odder add-ons: the Bottomless Pit with No Purpose. He was never seen again.

The doctors turned back from their instruments and began to poke and prod Arnaut with varyingly sharp objects. Obviously, they mistook them for their other patient who had, just moments ago, flown out of the room when every single one of the thirty-seven doctors had not had their attention on him. Of course, neither Arnaut nor the doctors knew this, so Arnaut did the one thing any sensible person does when being poked with sharp objects.

“Ow. Quit it!” Arnaut screamed loudly, batting down scalpels, scissors, razors, and chainsaws.

“Sir, we must remove the watermelon from your colon, and the only way to do that is to cut you open.” The first doctor said in a reasonable, almost hypnotic voice. Arnaut started to nod before he shook himself back to the reality.

“No! I don’t have a watermelon stuck in my colon! I’m very, very sick!” To prove his point, he threw up all over the man’s white coat.

“Fine, fine, we’ll pump your stomach. But are you sure you don’t want us to cut you open?”

“I’m sure!”

“But we got the knives out and everything!“

“Just pump my stomach!”

* * *

“Well, you were there a long time! How’d it go, buddy?” Snipes asked with a grin as Arnaut walked into the Wraith’s barracks. Arnaut picked up an empty vodka bottle off the floor and chucked it at his head.

Leth wandered into the hospital through the front door limping and cursing. There was a noticeable trail of blood that followed him. Coming to the front desk, he plopped down his right hand on the counter. There was a rather messy knife hole through it, it had several broken knuckles, and his wrist was broken. This however was just the wound that was viewable to the receptionist. Looking further down Leth's body, there was a large gash across his abdomen and a blaster hole clean through his leg.

The receptionist smiled and looked back up at his face. "Sir, please take a seat and we'll get to you eventually."

"Do you think that I could get seen a bit sooner than eventually? I'm kind of, um. . . Dying."

"Sir, please have a seat."

"Bitch. . ." muttered Leth as he went and had a seat in the corner in between an overweight Duro with his hand stuck in a Bothese finger-trap, and an amorous Ewok female.

Leth tried his hardest not to look at either of them, instead looking intently at the door, as if expecting someone. Apparently he was right. . . A man in a business suit with an electrum chronometer and shoes made from some animal that Leth probably didn't know existed.

He walked up to the desk and stated his problem, which was that his left shoulder was rather itchy and bothered him to no end. The receptionist pressed a button and a doctor came running to the man, and led him down the hall.

Leth winced in pain and anger as he doubled over and fell to the floor unconscious.

He awoke several hours later in a pool of blood and saliva. His awakening came as a matter of a security guard kicking him. Leth grabbed the guard's ankles and squeezed hard, bruising the bones, and causing the guard to kick him in the nose, breaking it and spilling yet more of Leth's blood on the floor. Eventually Leth realized why he'd been awakened as he looked over at the nurse who told him to head to room 116.

Leth shambled off to the room, which he found after fifteen minutes searching, which was made much harder due to the blood in his eyes from laying on the floor. He closed the door behind him and walked past a number of occupied beds until he found an empty one and sat down to play the waiting game again.

After several minutes, he heard footsteps coming through the room and abruptly stopping at the foot of his bed.

[OOC: It'd be nice if one of ye medics decided to help me out.]

Only one hour into a double shift and Riq felt like he had been here for a week. The janitor managed to make him fall on his ass in front of one of the most beautiful nurses he had ever seen as soon as Riq walked to his post.  Not that I would ever think about that... Nams would kill me and the janitor would be the least of my worries  Riq had forgotten about his avoid all contact policy and tried to say hi to the head nurse, but she stopped him before he had a chance to even say “good morning” and informed the medic that it was not a good morning and that she was in no mood for his sickening cheerfulness.  Riqimo could have corrected her understandable mistake and told her that she needn’t worry about him being sickeningly cheerful today, but it didn’t seem worth it, and she clearly didn’t seem to be in the right head space for the correction.
Th
“Hey, Riq. Would you mind telling me why you’re standing in the middle of the hallway, dropping…Mrs….Lavino’s chart all over the floor?” Dr. Godot bent down to pick up one of the stray papers off the floor to read the patient’s name.
Oh God, he’s going to yell at me... again. Think of something good. Think of something fast. Ok! First things first, open your eyes you useless sack of crap! How long have I been standing here with my eyes closed?

Oh shit, I almost made eye contact. It wasn’t my fault. He happened to be standing in my line of vision when I opened my eyes. My head feels light…like something’s shifting around inside there. Riq wanted to close his eyes again and pretend that he was lying down and the hallway is a cozy bed with a down comforter and feather pillows and Nams was right beside him, whispering softly in his ear... 

“You okay, Riq...?”

Oh crap! I forgot I was supposed to be answering Dr. Godot!  I’m choosing to zone him out - or trying my best to. A few choice words are getting through, though.

“…useless…idiot…waste of space….little kid…”

Ok, zoning out not 100 effective... I may have failed at avoiding him, but I can do a mid-contact avoidance move. I can walk away, never saying a word, never making a sound, and most importantly, never making eye contact.

“Just get to Dr. Freez Riqimo, he needs the help today.” Dr, Godot shook his head, and handed the clipboard back to the medic.

Nodding slowly, Riqimo’s feet mechanically took him to the critical condition wing, where he was greeted by a cheerful, rather largely gifted nurse, “Ahh!  Riqqy!” She squealed, happy to see Riqimo after about a month.  “How was it?  You are sooo brave!”

Avoid contact, failure...  I hate you Beliamenane...  Riqimo shrugged, “Nothing like that Bell, just standard operations, boring stuff.” He swallowed the lie, not wanting a to give a full relapse of the past mission.”

Bell looked disappointed, twirling her blonde hair around a finger, just then, even worse than Bell, Dr. Freez strode into the room, his eyes lighting up at seeing the medic.

“Riffo!  So good to see you back!”  Seeing the doctor’s eyes go up and down, examining the medic, Riq gave a small sigh.

“So where am I needed D. Freez? Riqimo shifted slightly as the man’s eyes focused around the belt area.

“Umm, you could do the patients in corridor 3, if you don’t have a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” Riq replied, As long as you don’t keep staring at the jewels, freak.

Several members of the Wraith squad had chosen to have a long, fun night at the local bar last night and, well, things had naturally gotten out of hand. 

Snipe was naturally attacking his bottle of rum with great success while Kanderin and Leth were shooting a game of pool against two shabby looking fellas who didn't appear to be from the best parts of society.  In fact, from all the speeder bikers parked out front, Dixon had a feeling that this shouldn't have been the safest place for the squad's usual partying. 

Figures Snipe suggested this place....its his kind of people, Dixon thought to himself grinning.

Arnaut was talking with Tnepres, a member of the squad that had just returned from leave.  Hench the reason why everybody was celebrating. 

Dixon, himself, naturally had two of the bargirls "talking" with him, one on each arm. He also was naturally as drunk as possible while still leaving the option open for action later tonight if he so chose with one, shit, maybe both, of the girl.

"You're so muscular Dixon," purred the one on the right, as she traced a line over his biceps with her finger.

"Yea, and so powerful," whispered the other who was pressing her well endowed body against his side allowing Dixon to glance down her cleavage.

Dixon just smiled at the both of the them.  He had heard this all before.  The trick was to figure out whether or not they were being serious or just trying to snag his wallet from his pants when he wasn't paying attention. 

All of the sudden there was a commotion by the pool tables.  Glancing towards the tables, Dixon could see Kanderin and Leth "discussing" something with the guys they had been playing just a few minutes ago. 

"Ya sacks of shiot! Ya cheated me outta money for the las time!" yelled one of the guys.

"Dude, if you can't handle getting you're ass kicked than you can just shove it and get lost," stated Leth as he turned his back and began walking toward the bar.  He never made it. A liquor bottle slammed into his head, drenching him and knocking him flat onto the ground.

Ooooo shit, here we go.

Snipe was already on his feet and staggering towards the two big biker look-a-likes, who by now had turned their sights on Kanderin.  Dixon wasn't sure whether Kanderin had been drinking alot or had stopped when he started playing pool.  It looked like the first one was more the truth because just then he tried to take a swing at the bigger of the two guys, missing him by at least a foot, spun on his feet and fell onto his face.  Another liquor bottle to the back of the head told Dixon that Kanderin wasn't going to be much help in the fight anymore.  By now, Arnuat and Tnepres had stood up and were rushing over to help the situation as Snipe tried to take a swing at the smaller biker.  Through blurred vision, Dixon watched as Snipe, who had been closer to the biker than Arnuat and Tnepres, was picked up and thrown vertically into his fellow squadmates knocking them all to the ground and knocking Arnuat and Tnepres unconscious.  Again, someone out of the crowd grabbed another liquor bottle and as Snipe began to stagger to his feet, dropped him again onto the floor. 

"O ighty, firls.  I'm gonna have to elp my quadmates over thair. Be ight back."

He never made it.  One of the girls decided to take his money instead of him home with her that night and slammed a bottle onto his head just like his squadmates. 

***

It's freakin bright in here.  When did it get so bright in the bar?  And whats all that beepin shit?

Dixon hadn't opened his eyes yet.  His head hurt with every thought so he was afraid to think of what kinda pain he'd feel if he opened his eyes, literally.

He groaned slightly which caused a commotion by his bed side.

Bedside?! What the hell?!

He finally tried to open his eyes. Staring past the brightness of the lights he looked towards his left at could tell it was Snipe lying in the bed next to his in the same room and realized that he was in a hospital.  Glancing toward his right, he noticed a figure he couldn't make out through his blurred vision who began to fuss with his bandaged head.


((Someone want to help me and my squaddys? That'd be greatly appreciated. ))

It has been almost a year since Aeos had set foot on Tadath. The Army convert stepped of the shuttle that brought her from Abrea and Aeos took a swig of the visual beauty the planet offered.

She shook her head softly to herself and made her way over to the nearest transport vehicle offered at the side walk. Unfortunate this particular shuttle failed to make a direct landing in the Army base.

She pulled the zip at the neck of her leather jerkin in order to allow her neck some comfortable breathing space.
“Ma'am, your bag,”
She must have zoned out. He had repeat himself. The small porter-boy looked at her annoyed. His face scrunched up, she was wasting his time to earn money!

“Sorry boy,” she apologized softly and grabbed the duffel bag from his hand.
“If you stick to your patience, then maybe your reward will be greater,” she said to him softly. He cocked his head to the side, confused, but the frown disappeared from his young face. He must have been eight or nine years old, yet he displayed a bigger sense of maturity. She grinned, and ruffled his raven hair. She  squat down to the tar to retrieve some money from her bag.

As she rummaged through the amazingly huge bag, the boy managed to spot some trinkets in it.
“You were in the Army?”
“Don't join it,” she replied bitterly as she handed him her rank insignia, now covered in scale of grey colours. Knowing the small kid was intrigued she handed him her Naval Rank insignia as well.
“Wow....” she heard him whisper.
“I guess you are not just here to get some money huh?” she asked him softly. He gave a small nod.
She laughed softly, finally pulling out some money. She gazed at him, and cocked her head to the side to meet his gaze at the same angle.

“You do know, the Military career doesn't pay well, right?” she said to him. She counted of the notes with ease as it flipped through her thumb. She handed him a hundred Imperials units.
“Spend it on stocks kid, you have any idea what that is?”  He gave a small nod, staring at the wad of paper money in his hand with shock.

“Good, see ya, stay out of trouble, and be patient!” she called out to him as she grabbed her rank insignias, stuffed them into a bag, and continued her way to a road transport.

It was late the afternoon as she completed her personal tour around the Base facilities. She was sitting in the park, the blustery wind softly playing with her face as the grass moved along with the weather. The late sun baked lazily on her face and she closed her eyes. Not much has changed. Has it?  She clenched her hand, which was covered with a leather glove made of zakkeg hide, covering the palm and outside of her hand. The fingers were still left some air to breath.

She was about to doze off when a terrible cry rang through the air.  Battle instinct sparked immediately and bolted up from her position. Her fists clenched.

She fell into a fast sprint, following the sound by ear, which lead into a small forest of the park with trees smothering each other in shadows. A small clearing opened up as she came to a halt. Anger flared. In front two boys, in their early teens, had a dagger pressed against the same child that she met earlier at the shuttle. His eyes were wide with fear.

Aeos pulled out her blaster, her thumb flicking off the stun. She aimed it as she narrowed her eyes.
“Let him go,” she muttered. Angered. The two assaulter let a meek laugh escape from their mouth, staring at her blaster pistol, unmoving.
“That's order, and trust me, I was trained on this planet, so what does it take to leave the child, or do I have to blast that idea in or through your heads?” 
The older boy of the two, lowered the blade, now pointing at the child's ribs.

The little boy however, took his chance, thinking he was free as last. He attempted to bolt to her, but a rage of pain slid through him suddenly. A gasp escaped from his paling lips.

Shocked, yet still functioning Aeos failed to hesitate and pulled the trigger on her pistol with confidence, bringing down the first assaulter. The second one spun around, starting his fleeing journey, but a hard object connect with the back of his head as she flung the pistol, bringing him down to knees, unconscious.

She bolted to the side of the boy, now a small puddle of blood. He was still conscious. He was on his back, his ragged breathing, ever so often interrupted with moans and gulps of breath. His small hands clenched the hilt.

“Darling, don't pull that, and keep your eyes open,  it will all be over soon,” she whispered to him quietly and calmly as she gently guided his hands away from the hilt.

**
She broke through the hospital doors, her trench coat already darkened and damp by blood. For a moment everybody failed to notice the small bundle of life in her arms. The first thing she saw as she came through the doors, was a flash of red. Though it lacked something....a collection of blades.

“Nams! Thank the Sith, Nams!”
Namyr, surprised at seeing her old squad-mate, quickly attained her calm at seeing the small boy in Aeos' arms.