Coadster woke upon a white hospital bed, with the taste of something tooth-rottingly sweet coating his tongue. The room was sparse in decoration, with a portrait on the wall across from him displaying images of pastel smears of color and a simple vase with bright flowers on the window overhang. He looked around for a glass of water, something to wash the taste out of his mouth, and was relieved to see a medical droid hover into the room.

“Mr. Davout, glad to see you conscious.” The droid said, synthetic voice given a professional detachment that seemed the norm for organic doctors. Or was he programmed that way? Its intelligent blue optical sensors seemed to peer at him quizzically, and the smooth curves of its body were etched and dented in some places which gave it the appearance of age.  “I’m droid GH-7-12, but most patients refer to me as Doc. Now, let’s see here… How are you feeling today, Mr. Davout?”

Cody mulled over the question for a few moments before answering, “Fine, I’m doing fine.” In actuality, he felt great, much better than before his squad left that frozen hell hole. He was thirsty as all sin, though. “Can I, ah, get something to drink?”

Doc whispered over to the far side of the room, and came back with two cups placed on the tray protruding from the front of him; one was clearly water, the ice within tinkling quietly, while the other was a light shade of opalescent blue and was thick as glue.  The tray was detached and placed on the little bedside table.

“You had a concussion and have been unconscious since coming into my care. A bit of a coma, but we’ve taken care of it.

“Hey ah, Doc, what’s this gunk?” Coadster said as he picked up the glass with the syrupy liquid. Assuming it was medicine, he thought it was best to take it before the water, so he’d have something to wash it down with. It smelled sweet, though not in a good way; it was almost the fragrance of rotten strawberries.

“It’s bacta, of course. You don’t need anything else when you’ve got that. Though it’s not the best we’ve got to offer, I thought that in the interest of your, ah, finances, that you’d be better off a couple more days out of commission than you would have been.”

Cody grimaced. He hadn’t even thought about his medical insurance, but now that it was on the brain he groaned aloud. Well, so much for that new hoverbike.

He threw the blue swill into the back of his throat, forcing himself not to gag on the sweetness. It tasted better than the smell of it, but not by much. And he now knew where the taste on his tongue came from, as even the water he quickly washed the bacta down with hardly wiping the taste from his tongue. He probably looked very much like a dog with peanut butter as he scraped his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Ach, that’s definitely not fun. Um. Aherm. Uh, where am I? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Doc picked up the tray with the emptied cups and whisked them away.

“You’re on Aargau, of course. You’ve a few days for leave, I was told to tell you.”

He digested this slowly. He felt he should be happy about this, but… He didn’t much feel like seeing his family. He sat up and tried to throw himself out of bed, to which Doc protested profusely. He was pushed back down by the droid’s three arms. He tried to push back with both hands – which he was glad to see were empty of burns or scars – but he settled down.

“That bacta you took was your last dose, but I don’t recommend you leave until tomorrow; your injuries have, for the most part, healed, but your ribs and foot are still in the process of knitting together. If you leave now and walk on it, you may disrupt the healing process.”

“Give me the forms to sign off, please.”

The droid seemed to give Cody a sideways glance with his optical lights, but after a moment he acquiesced. There was a long minute before Doc came back, datapad in one hand and a pen in the other. They were both handed to Cody, and without reading he signed off. After handing it back he tried to get up, but once again he was pushed down.

“A wheelchair’s already been called for. We won’t have you injuring yourself on the hospital property; if you do, however, feel like coming back due to the previous injuries, please come back so we can take care of it. You’ll be taken to the restroom where some normal clothing is waiting for you.”

As he finished a wheelchair was pushed in by a 2-1B droid, who stood mutely by as Coad slid off the bed and sat down in the chair. He dipped his head to Doc, and he was wheeled off with a feeling that he could only perceive as dread.

OOC:

For all of you that might read this, I'll be adding two more pieces on this.