He tried to drown out the annoying voice of the newest shrink to visit him in sickbay. It was doing little good though, the older man had the perfect pitch combination to cut right through every defense he tried to put up to get away from the constant pestering questions. In truth he did not want to talk about what happened in his past with a stranger. There were only a select few people he would talk to about it even in passing, this crack pot was not one of them.
He had been out of the bacta tank for a little over two days as best he could tell. Time seemed to speed up and slow down still, but for the most part he was able to remain conscious for longer periods of time. Contrary to what the doctors would say as they stood over his bed he could remember every detail of what lead to him being here for the past few weeks.
The battle was raging hard, most of the squadron was pulling back to regroup but he had chosen to stay and cover their retreat. It probably looked like suicide to most people but he was not most people, of course this tactic only worked if you had a good wingman by your side. The one that had chosen to stay with him was not up to the challenge of taking on a squadron nearly solo though.
The odds were stacked against him from the start, nine to one used to be odds he would laugh at. That was when he was flying an Avenger and wore the insignia of Regents. Now he was in a slower Interceptor and wore of the insignia of Tuk'ata, a squadron he never felt any connection to.
Chopping the throttle and going into a dive he felt the explosion from his wing man, looking to his right he cursed as he saw three of the enemy closing in, their weapons fire beginning to rip holes into his starboard solar panel.
"Tuk six, going down. I'm sorry." Scral said as he released the yoke.
A moment later he felt the port solar panel being ripped from its support. Opening his eyes he noticed the shrink had left, he stretched as much as he could his sore muscles protesting at the movement. He glanced over at the chrono hanging on the far wall and saw almost two hours had passed.
Guess staying awake is something I still have to work on. The thought amused him somehow, probably caused from his splintered psyche.
"I still got four of them though." Scral mumbled mostly to himself. If he had been in an Avenger, and his wingman was more in-tuned with what he had planned he would not be laying in this bed. Nor about to mentally bury another pilot that lost his life because of him.
"I do have to say, you have an uncanny ability to send shrinks storming out of hear. I think that's number four that's done that now." An older male said as he stood checking over a few monitors situated above Scral's head.
"It's a knack." Scral said as he slowly worked out a kink in his right shoulder.
"You probably don't remember me much, but I was a second year nurse back when you were in Regents. I treated more stress fractures from you boys than I can remember." The unnamed man said as he took a few steps away from the bed.
Half smiling at a few memories that popped up Scral said, "Setting the inertial dampners lower than recommended tends to do that, during the high G turns our bodies begin to take a beating."
"Not many flyers want to do that, they rely on instruments and not what the fighter is telling them. Gets more of them killed in the long run." The man said as he continued to half watch the monitors and half watch Scral. "Maybe it takes a rare breed, or the ones truly crazy to do what you used to do."
Scral did not respond as he began looking up at the ceiling. Memories of the old squadron began replaying in his head, late nights sitting around the common room telling stories, laughing at the nuggets trying to find their niche in the squadron. Quiet toasts after a mission as they said goodbye to friends who did not make it back. The latter was something they did after most of their missions.
"You remember all of them don't you? All of the ones that died in fire." The man's voice was soft now. He was not looking anywhere near the monitors.
Scral blinked but could not say anything. It was not something that happened often, but somehow this random doctor had found the few buttons of his that remained and he pushed them in order. Closing his eyes he tried to force their faces back into the box he kept them in, but they refused to be put away this time.
"That's what makes you still human, Trimik. Get some rest, you still have work to do." The man said as he walked away. Scral looked over to see a young nurse waving the man over before handing him a datapad.
A long day would pass before Scral would venture to open his eyes since the man left him alone. You would think after an event like that it would of changed him, but it would be a lie. His eyes still held the same blank death stare that he had worn for years. His face still the same mask he wore to keep people out, but ever so often he would stare blankly at nothing only for an instant before catching himself.
I need to get a handle on this, on those bloody faces. He thought as he felt the simulator respond to his commands.
Thinking about the past gets people killed, and I don't want more faces in my mind. Tapping the throttle he felt the cockpit shake slightly as he pushed the Interceptor into a tight roll then a long dive.
"You think he'll come back?" A man in deckcrew coveralls said slowly as he stood cleaning a hydrospaner.
"Up to him, but for now I think he's found something to latch onto. Maybe that will be enough." The unnamed doctor said as they both walked out of the simulator room.
- OOC:
- Scral's been in medbay for the past few weeks, ever since his 'suicidal' run at an enemy squadron to cover Tuk'atas retreat. Apparently NHC finally found someone who could get under his defenses and ask him questions. As of a few days ago (Canon time, as best as I could make it.) He's been in simulators and passing qualifications to be reactivated into service.
