All Titans Fall

[Cassanova]

Juno wasn't one to waste time. She slung her arm under Runt's shoulder, and dragged him a short distance to the shower. Saying that she dragged him gives the impression that it was easy. Hardly. Rubber soled boots on a wet bathroom floor trying to haul something that weighs three times your own body weight? Nearly impossible. It wasn't lucky that she was able to, she did have both Crinlin there to help, and the Force to aid her.

It took a minute or two, but eventually Runt was propped up in the corner of the bathroom's shower stall. Admittedly he nearly blended in with the tiles on the walls, but Juno didn't waste a second getting the water going, "Alright, Runt. We're gonna start it off cold and warm you up slowly - the last thing we need to do is send your body into shock."

She squatted over the feline's legs, and tapped on the controls. Admittedly, Juno was going to get soaked too, but she wasn't prepared to leave him alone - not yet anyway. Juno didn't quite understand why she was compelled to stay with him, but she was under the impression that a familiar face, or some sort of continuity was something he would appreciate at this point. Nevertheless, Juno engaged the cold water - which would have felt scolding hot to the half-frozen Kushari, no doubt, but she engaged it and let it run at that temperature for a short while.

"Going to turn it up a little, alright? Just hang in there," a few gentle beeps signalled the water would be coming out approximately ten degrees warmer. The plan was to continue doing this until it got up to around forty five degrees celsius, at which point it would be a 'normal' shower temperature.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Runt was hauled off again - this time into the shower. He was maneuvered into the stall and sat down with his back to the corner of the tiled wall, where the water from the showerhead would be able to most directly strike him. He was dimly aware of someone speaking. Juno. She was explaining something about how they were going to start off cold and work their way up to a warmer temperature, but it all went in one ear and out the other. Any water that wasn't ice would be better than how he felt.

She moved over him and turned on the water. It was hot - blazing hot, but good. Warm. His body burnt and tingled as the water rinsed away freezing cryofluid and restored warmth to his chilled skin. It was probably cold to her, it had to be, but to him it was the warmest he'd ever felt. He shuddered and gasped, tail curling up between his legs and draping over the top of his thigh as the water cascaded over him. The shower beeped a few times, which caused his ears to flick twice. The water hit quite a little bit warmer after that. He shuddered briefly, but didn't try to 'escape' the seemingly hot water. It felt good, actually, even if it 'hurt' in that funny way warmth 'burnt' when one was very cold.

She gradually stepped up the water's temperature over the course of what felt like eons. The water-solubile cryofluid he had been frozen in washed away with surprising ease, and he could feel the numbness in his limbs and digits ebbing away. His muscle loosened and relaxed, and his body no longer shook. The tiger-like alien cupped his hands and gathered a handful of water from the shower, and splashed it directly over his eyes and face, then rubbed his cheekfur and inside his ears to wash out the last remnants of fluid.

Then he realized his eyes hurt. A lot. His contacts - they'd probably started to irritate his eyes. He imagined they'd distorted somewhat in the cold. The feline cursed softly in his native tongue and reached up, gingerly removing the lenses from his eyes one by one, and placing them in a tiny trapdoor hidden in the bottom of the crystalline cylinder he wore 'round his neck. "My glasses. I left my glasses in a utility pouch. Back of my armor's torso section, under the backpack-like bulge. Could... You bring them to me? I'm blind as a bat without them, and I think the cold hurt my contacts."

He was somewhat hesitant to ask, but his legs still felt stiff and sore. He didn't trust himself to stand, and he certainly wasn't going to just run out and try to fetch his glasses. It wasn't like he could instantly bounce back from so many years of cryo. He needed time - a few more minutes in the shower, and then somewhere to rest and eat. His stomach growled and rumbled gently, and he felt thirsty. He'd spent a long time in cryo, it seemed - and it also seemed that the cryofluid in his stomach hadn't done anything to suppress his appetite. Of course, puking it up probably hadn't helped.

 

[Cassanova]

Juno seemed slightly shocked at the concept of this massive feline needing glasses or contacts, but then again, eyes were never meant to last forever. She stood up, soaking wet, just as much as Runt was, and moved over to the pile of armour plates that had scattered themselves on the floor. Sifting through them, stacking the ones she didn't need in a neat pile near the end of the bench, she found the backplate, and flipped it over. The hard utility pouch was pretty easy to identify. Opening the pocket, Juno then slid her fingers in and removed the glasses. Admittedly they were constructed differently than she had expected - then again, she was human, and he most certainly was not.

Clasping the glasses in her hand she scooted over to the Kushari. Juno paused for a second, only to brush some wet hair from her eyes, and to then gently slide his glasses onto Runt's head. "How's that?"

Juno paused, tapping the temperature control again, increasing the temperature for him again.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Runt was startled for a brief moment when Juno returned. He couldn't make her out at all - he saw blurs and colors, but nothing distinct. Not until she drew close, at least. She settled his glasses into the bridge of his nose, correctly deducing that the eyewear was designed to be perched on the bridge of the feline's nose, rather than hooking around his ears and over his nose as a human's eyewear would. He blinked a few times, then reached up and gingerly scooted his glasses a bit further up, until he could peer out of his glasses' rectangular lenses.

He could see her - and now that his vision wasn't blurred and distorted by a mix of cold-warped contacts and shaking fear, he could actually see details. "That's great," the young feline replied. A small smile crept onto his muzzle, and he nodded his head gratefully. "Thank you."

She turned the heat up a bit more, and it actually became almost too hot. Roughly the same temperature humans enjoyed, from what he remembered, and colder than what baseline Kushari preferred, but a bit on the hot side for a Damarian like himself. It was perfect as it was. "I feel okay now. Okay-ish; at least I'm not a cat-sicle."

He slowly hauled himself to his feet, the feline bracing his hands against the walls to make sure he didn't topple over. His tail began slowly swaying behind him. He reached out to the shower, palming it off. The feline shook his head, dispelling a little water from his pelt, then began to look around for something to dry himself off with. There was no stationary pelt drier embedded into the wall like there was aboard his ship, and he didn't think to look for a towel as the things were usually only used by the most desperate of Kushari. "Uh... Is there a drier around here somewhere?" he queried, ears perking curiously as he began to look around. He was still a little fearful around the Jedi, but he was beginning to ease up a bit - saving his life had likely done quite a bit to temper his fear!

 

[MoreThanSane]

Crinlin stood awkwardly several meters from Juno and the large alien while she slowly warmed him up and helped him with his glasses. It was odd and vaguely comical, despite the seriousness of the situation. Just giving my cat a bath, what are you doing? Crinlin almost chuckled at the poorly conceived joke. Oh Force I'm tired.

He yawned so hard it brought tears to his eyes, and wanted nothing more than to go to his quarters and lie down and sleep and sleep and sleep and....

Oh Force I'm tired. But he couldn't leave Juno alone with Runt. He didn't worry for her safety--she was a very able Jedi--but Runt was a very large, very sick being and, however inconvenient it proved to be at times, Crinlin Syphex had a conscience.

As the feline got to his feet and switched off the water, Crinlin straightened. He laughed despite himself at the mention of a drier. It was, considering the diversity of the Jedi Order, something that the Council should consider making standard in all the temples.

He walked to a locker and pulled it open, grabbing four towels from within. He smiled and handed them to Runt. "Apologies, my friend," he said. "We use a more traditional method. Perhaps I'll talk to someone about requisitioning--or building--something of that nature."

 

[Fyston]

Despite everything that had happened, Fyston was calm. When Juno mentioned that she would take him to the training showers, he nodded and began his journey in the opposite direction. He wasn't leaving, far from it. The large feline would need clothes after the shower unless they planned to stick the frozen armor back on him. Runt was slightly smaller than the Knight, but Fyston was sure that his clothes would fit on him, at least long enough to stabilize him and find out what was going on. After all, a man didn't awaken from what was akin to hibernation every day.

While Fyston had read about suspended animation, he was no expert in the matter. Sure, he knew the basics and knew about hibernation sickness, but the effects of cryofluid on tissue was out of his specialization. If the situation arose, the Jedi had someone skilled in cryofluid and hibernation, but Fyston could likely handle said situation. Runt's situation was quite intriguing, though, and Fyston was quite curious as to how Runt got in his current situation.

It was only a short run to his quarters, about five minutes from where he had met with Juno, Crinlin, and Runt. As he slowed himself to a stop, he opened the door with a wave of his hand and jogged inside. Fyston began going through the options in his head, starting with the numerous Jedi robes and tunics he had in varying colors. He could give Runt a tunic, though he didn't want the man to feel like a prisoner or offended. While Fyston did have an assortmentcasual clothes, most of his clothes were either business-y or Jedi robes. He simply hadn't been the type to have tons of frivolous clothing that he would, most likely, never wear. Fyston owned clothing for any situation, though some situations were more common than others.

Before grabbing anything, however, Fyston walked into the refreshers and turned the faucet, summoning hot water with which to wash his hands. The blood hadn't had enough time to fully dry, and once it had it would be quite difficult to clean. Fyston could tell, however, that the blood that stained his clothing wouldn't come out easily even if washed right away. He put his hands under the faucet, causing the scorching water to cascade over his hands. Hot water had long since ceased to discomfort the man, however, and it didn't discomfort him here. Crimson blood flowed off of his hands just as quickly as it had flowed onto them, with the silver bowl of the sink turning a light shade of red. Fyston would have to clean the sink later, but he was more worried about Runt. He grabbed the soap and poured a bit onto his hands, scrubbing the rest of the blood off with ease.

And so, the Knight grabbed a black T-shirt that was flexible enough to fit someone slightly larger than Fyston, as well as a pair of jeans. He also grabbed a belt, in case they were slightly loose at the waist. While it may not be Runt's particular style, Fyston was concerned more with the state of the man than with the clothes the man wore. Stuffing the clothes into a small bag, Fyston, white robes still stained by Delun's blood, exited his quarters. Again, the Knight broke into a run, this time aiming for the training showers. There were service corridors he could take, and they were likely the fastest way to the showers.

Emerging from one such corridor, Fyston was right outside the entrance to the training showers. As the doors opened, he could hear a voice mention requisitioning something, though he didn't catch the rest of the statement. The steam slammed into him and he walked around the benches towards the actual showers.

As he emerged into the showers, he saw the drip of water in the background, though was more focused on Crinlin, Juno, and Runt. "I brought you some clothes. I figure we're about the same size, so they should fit," he said with a smile as he pulled the clothes out of the bag and offered them to Runt.

 

[Jiang Winters]

"Thank you," Runt said, as he took the towels from Crinlin. It'd been ages since he used one, but he couldn't complain. Dry was dry, after all. He wasted no time in toweling the wetness from his fur. He used up one towel just drying off his legs, and another on his arms; it took the remaining two towels to remove enough dampness from his torso and headfur to leave him comfortable He still wasn't steady on his feet, and nearly toppled a time or two when he moved to deposit the soaking wet towels atop the bench. The feline was too stubborn to stand still, though, and forced himself to fight through the lingering effects of his cryosickness.

He took a moment to glance at his armor. Once it warmed up enough, he'd need to do a little maintenance work and get the cryofluid out of its thruster ports and all the little crevices and gaps that existed underneath the exterior plating. The suit was incredibly tough, but he didn't want it becoming sticky with spoiled cryofluid. He'd likely just rinse it down and bathe the synthetic muscle bundles in water - or solvent, if the fluid was persistent enough to warrant the extra work.

As he was puzzling over whether or not he had spare clothes in his armor's backpack - he didn't, not that he knew that!- Fyston reappeared. The feline's ears perked and he turned, brown eyes momentarily fixing on the Jedi before flicking to the clothing the man was offering.

"Even if they don't fit perfectly, they beat strutting about in fur. Thanks."

He wriggled into the jeans and slid the shirt on. Both weren't exactly loose fits - though tiny by Kushari standards, his height of six feet and two inches was still tall for a human, and his powerful build, compact though it may have been, wasn't exactly sleek enough to be readily stuffed into Fyston's clothing. Despite that, he was able to get the garments on - though he had to wear the jeans a bit low in the back, as the waistband had to go underneath his tail since there was no slot for the lengthy appendage. Dressing had been a challenge for more serious reasons than ill-fitting clothes, however; the effects of cryostasis were still taking a heavy toll on Runt, who ended up having to lean on the wall for support when he pulled the jeans on.

Once he was finished buttoning up his pants and tugging his shirt down over the waistband as much as was possible, he turned back to the trio of humans, eyeing them curiously. "You know," he murmured, "This is the first time I've met humans who wanted to help me, rather than shove me around and use me for a punching bag." He paused, then smiled softly. "It's a nice change of pace."

 

[Cassanova]

Juno, soaking wet in her full Jedi robes, frowned and looked at Runt in disbelief. The concept that he had never met a nice human appalled her. It made her ashamed to be human sometimes. She could maybe understand if he had met some sour Corellians, but to label the entire human race was sad. "Seriously?"

At the end of the day, there were few places better to wake up from a cryosleep than a Jedi Temple. Healers, and plenty of willing hands to help out. Juno hoped that her tackling him hadn't given him the wrong idea. She was only trying to stop him from harming others, or just as bad in this case, himself.

She stood up, and placed a hand on his forearm, "I'm glad we've given you a better impression..." She passed a look to Fyston, then back to Runt. There was still the outstanding question of Delun, the cryopod, and the rest of the mess, "...We do need to talk, Runt."

 

[Jiang Winters]

Runt quirked a brow as Juno laid a hand on his soft-furred forearm. No doubt it'd feel impossibly firm under her digits - beneath the silky fur laid dense muscle and bone. Kushari strength made manifest. Were he not recovering from the cold of the cryopod, his fur and flesh would've undoubtedly felt a bit hot as well, as Kushari body temperatures ran a little warmer than that of a human's.

His ears slowly lowered as she spoke. Questions. She, and the other humans, had questions to ask. A lot of them, no doubt. It'd be just as before, though. She'd ask him questions, and he wouldn't have answers for her. That was how it'd been during his captivity. It'd be the same now.

He sighed, and frowned e'er so slightly at her. "Look," he began, "My memory's shot. Cryosickness. It'll return with time. I'm sure of it. But right now, I don't know anything useful."

The feline held up his fingers, and began counting off, one-by-one.

"I can recite a lifetime of engineering knowledge to you, rattle off statistics on small arms, armored vehicles, and spacecraft. I can teach you how to pilot any craft, no matter how big or how small, or drive any vehicle. I can tell you which Cha'kar team won the inter-Kith finals on my birthday. I can tell you how many Vasar matches my eldest brother won, or how many hours my other elder brother spent trying to teach me how to use my talent. I could tell you how many rounds my other brother can put inside a half-meter circle at a thousand meters, or I could tell you how many hundreds of kilos my first brother can li..."

His voice trailed off. He winced - there was a presence in his mind. A dull ache. It was there, then it was gone. Replacing the pain was a new expanse of information - as if he'd suddenly been granted access to a distant repository of information. To an entirely new mind. He recognized it, but he couldn't remember its name. But it remembered him.

It didn't speak. Not in any way the Jedi surrounding him would understand. It sent diagrams - blueprints, schematics, models, material lists, operational statistics, mathematical equations. It sent raw information. It sent sensor readouts, it sent medical scans, it sent diagnostics results. It sent a wealth of information, so much that he felt crippled for a moment. The feline's eyes slid closed and he touched a hand to his temple.

Filters. He had to use a mental filter, block out the irrelevant data and ask only for the relevant. He started from the top, stripping out the superfluous information. Inventory lists, engine data, flight logs; he didn't need any of that. He didn't need anything, actually. Nothing but the layout of the network his mind had been patched into. He found it after a few moments; found his way back into the familiar old maze his mind had once spent hours wandering. He didn't know its name, but it knew him, and it was welcoming him with open arms.

He reached out and touched it, asking for any urgent information. There was a single entry. An image of another Damarian Kushari - the same one as the injured male he'd spotted in the yard. No description, save for archived medical scans and an exhaustive library of cybernetic parts and schematics for those parts.

His fingers slipped from his temple to his neck, and found a thin choker-like necklace. He hadn't noticed it before - it was thin, consisting of a simple leather band with an eagle on the front, and a buckle on the back. "A Remote Access Neural Interface... Hm," he murmured absentmindedly, one ear twitching slightly. His eyes finally opened, now that he'd 'seized' the interface within his mind and could control it.

"I wonder what triggered its activation..." he pondered. It wasn't Juno's touch, it couldn't be. It had to have been there the whole time, lurking in the back of his mind. Something familiar would have served as the trigger. He was last thinking of family - yes, that had to be it. His brow furrowed as he pursued that thought, and then it all clicked.

All the pieces came together, and as they did, his stomach twisted up in knots and his eyes widened with realization.

"Oh shit."

His brother. The cat in the yard was his brother. The scans, the diagrams, the diagnostic information, the files labeled as 'urgent' within the network - it was all for his brother. He could sense a tiny alarm in the back of his mind, pulsating softly. He reached out for it within the network and delicately probed it, and instantly recognized the presence as belonging to the injured feline. He became more persistent, and pulled diagnostics data out of the other Kushari's neural net.

It only took a moment for the gravity of the data to sink in. He pushed himself off the wall and tugged his arm away from Juno. He had to act, and he had to act quickly or risk losing his only link to his past. "You want answers to your questions? So do I. But I have a life I need to save before I'll have those answers - where are you keeping the other Kushari? The injured one, who was with me when I came out of cryo?"

 

[Fyston]

Fyston remained silent as Runt spoke, nodding as the man thanked him. He allowed Runt's remark, the one about humans and punching bags, to roll off of his back. He had no way of knowing that Runt had been through, and so judging him on his word choice or beliefs was disrespectful at best.

Again, Fyston nodded, though this time at Juno when she looked back at him. While he was the highest rank there, she was doing quite well with that had happened. So long as everything continued to go well, he saw no need to intervene. This was a chance for her to take charge and build confidence while still having him there for support and anything else if needed. Of course, Fyston could step in at any time, though doing so would not only set them back on the path to progress but also insult Juno.

Leaning against the wall, Fyston merely watched and listened as Runt recalled everything he knew. He was moral support, but he was talking to Juno now and Fyston simply absorbed everything that Runt said. The information spent a short time in his mind as it was analyzed before being shipped off to another section of his mind in a way that, to Fyston, was not unlike a ship delivering cargo to another planet.

The Knight remained relaxed until Runt swore. Fyston merely looked at him out of curiosity, though his attention was drawn ever more back to the present when Runt jerked away from Juno and asked about Delun.

"You mean Delun," Fyston asked for confirmation, though it mattered not what Runt said in return. After all, that was the only other being who was near him when he came out of stasis. Fyston held his left forefinger up in a traditional 'wait' gesture, grabbing his comlink from his belt at the same time. "I need information on one Delun," muttered Fy into the comlink. A soft voice answered him. "Who is that, Master Sutsgy?" It was a Padawan volunteer, though Fyston had nothing to do with who manned the information desk. "The large feline being who was brought in a few minutes ago in critical condition." "Oh," the voice said in an almost regrettable tone. "He's in surgery, but the damage is quite extensive. 8 units have been transfused and additional resources are being rushed in, though the team of surgeons sees a very low chance of survival."

Turning to Runt again, Fyston slipped his comlink back in his pocket. "You seem to know him, so we can go watch from the observation room. I promise you we have the best surgeons working on him, but there's not much we can do until after the surgery is over." The observation room, which normally served for medical students to gain a bit of experience during their clinical rotation, wasn't really that far. Sure, there was a turbolift ride once they got into the medical ward, but that was it.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Runt felt strength return to his limbs as Fyston spoke. His mind carefully cataloged all that the man said, and he paid special attention to the commlink. Eight units - blood transfusions, most likely. Additional resources being brought in, low odds of survival; he frowned slightly and sighed. He had a feeling that the surgeons had no idea what they were dealing with. It wouldn't surprise him to find that Kushari physiology was utterly alien to them, nor would it come as any shock to find that they'd never worked with a combat cyborg before.

He knelt by his armor as Fyston offered to take him up to the observation room. He seized the back section of the torso armor, and removed a small module from the back of the armor's collar section. "I don't need to watch, I need to get in there and work. He doesn't need a surgeon, what he needs is a cybernetics expert with enough knowledge of Damarian Kushari anatomy to repair the damage without killing him."

The feline grasped the flat oval-shaped device he'd taken between his hands, and pulled it apart. It slid open on two little rails, and a holographic display snapped to life between the two halves. He poked one of the display's buttons and set it to search for his ship's network. It beeped and hummed quietly for a few moments, then established a connection to his ship. The same ship Delun had rode in on - Faith. His private AI, Defiant Angel, lived in her computer core. She'd merely been sleeping for a long, long time. Angel reached out for him through his neural net, and he responded; he gave her a list of important materials and tools he was going to need. She promised to have it ready within a few minutes - sooner, if she was able to subdue the ship's 'new' AI, Dex, in a timely fashion.

He lowered the device slightly. "Let's get to the medical section. Angel's sending a loader bot with tools and supplies. Laser scalpel, welding material, nanoweave mesh and replacement biopolymer panels, synthetic muscle repair gel, so on and so forth. She's also got a run of replacement high-density power cells going in the automated fabrication sys- um. Sorry. Technical mumbo-jumbo aside, she's making and sending spare parts to us. The droid will home in on this." He gestured to the comms unit he held.

"I can repair the damage inside an hour. The surgeons can fix the fleshy bits once I've patched up the cybernetics - if I can bring his power systems back online, his self-repair systems will handle the rest. I'll explain as much as I can after that - including how I know what's wrong with him but don't even know his name."

 

[Cassanova]

Juno stood there with a defuddled look upon her face. She was a self-proclaimed tech-head, knowing how to disassemble a lightsaber and reassemble it in a few minutes. She prided herself on the ability to use most systems. But when Runt started rattling off materials and tools, Juno felt like she was being taken to school and being beaten in the head with a textbook. Needless to say, she kept this revelation to herself as best she could, the only sign of her confusion was a slightly agape jaw.

Not knowing how to approach the situation, Juno merely shrugged, moving towards Runt, extending a gentle arm to him in offer of support, "Works for me. Let's go."

Juno led the way to the Medical wing, providing Runt with the support he needed when he needed it, and of course, when his pride would allow it. The walk itself was focused, hurried even, and passed quickly despite the considerable distance from the training areas to the Medical centre. As the group moved through a set of sliding transparisteel doors, the chaos snapped quickly into reality. The medical staff were working at a frantically calm pace, each person moving with precision and haste. A life hung in the balance after all. The signs of extensive surgery were clearly evident. A pile of empty transfusion bags, discarded cutting tools being dumped into a nearby sink, scout nurses having to wipe condensation from the masks of the surgeons who had been operating. Of course the patient was clearly evident too. Delun's massive figure hung loosely, threatening to fall from the table in every which direction. The table, of course, which had to be lowered to its absolute minimum height to allow the medical team access into the gaping wounds that Delun was the proud owner of.

Juno gently squeezed Runt's arm instinctively, fearing for an empathetic switch in which she was on the table undergoing the surgery. She gathered her emotions and reminded herself to stop mothering Runt for a moment, giving him the space he would need to do whatever he was going to do next. Admittedly, Juno stood there a little out of place, unsure as to what to do. She knew that she would be an utter hinderance in an operating room, so going in would have been a waste of time. Standing here she felt useless, but leaving just simply didn't sit well with her. Juno felt that as one of the people to encounter Runt, she had to stay with him. To give him some sense of familiarity. She would have enjoyed the same courtesy had she woken up from a cryogenic deepfreeze looking at people you don't know, next to a gravely wounded member of your own species.

 

[Fyston]

With Juno and Runt leading the way, many didn't see Fyston until after the larger feline had moved out of the way. As such, the medical personnel had already begun the call for security when they entered the surgical room. Nobody was completely sterile, at least not the way the surgical team liked. As a member of that team, albeit one of the newest, Fyston was well aware of their very high standards. After all, he'd only just completed the final phases of his surgical education and certification.

"Sutsgy, what is the meaning of this," demanded Ryk, one of the senior members of the surgical team, when he finally saw the man, blue medical gloves still depressing the button that summoned security. A number of other surgeons looked between the newest team member and one of the oldest with increasing interest, though none stopped the lifesaving techniques that did little more than keep Delun breathing and bleeding. "We're not equipped to handle an injury like this," responded Fyston, raising his hand to stop further outbursts. "Yes, I know we boast one of the most advanced facilities in Alliance space, if not the galaxy. We can handle amputations, as simple medical droids can handle prosthetics. We can handle MCIs and dozens other scenarios that most medical centers struggle with, if not fail entirely. We are not, however, know anything about their anatomy."

As if personally insulted, the white-haired man's jaw dropped. He began to respond fairly loudly, the words bouncing off of the metallic surface that made up the surgical room. "Be quiet," snapped Fyston, the fatigue clearly getting to him. "This man is a Kushari anatomical expert with a double major in cybernetics. You will step back and allow him to work. When he is finished repairing the mechanical damage, fix up the flesh and blood."

"You think you can just barge in here and bark orders?! I'm in charge here!" That was it. If he wanted to pull rank, Fyston would pull rank. "You are a surgeon, yes. You have a very nice degree from a very nice university, yes. You are not, however, in charge here." Before the man could reply, Fyston shushed him as if he were a child. "I am. You can either spend a night being detained by some of our finest guards or you can shut up, sit down, and allow my friend to work. I am tired. I have been up for two, nearly three days. Don't expect my normal calm, cheery self." Fyston never pulled the Jedi card, never. Now, however, he was at his wits end. Ryk was being hard to get along with simply because he could. Were it any other day, the Knight would have simply smiled and been polite. Exhausted and agitated, there was no false sense of kindness or control. Some say it went against what Jedi were supposed to be, but even Jedi suffered from bad days and fatigue.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Visually speaking, the damage was worse than he'd imagined.

The extensiveness of Delun's wound was startling, as was its depth and the mangled bits of bone and synthetic tissue that jutted out awkwardly from the gaping hole. His vest had been cut away already, and a good bit of work had been done to stabilize him. That would make Runt's work a little easier, as he wouldn't have to worry as much about preserving his patient's life.

His patient - not his brother, merely another soul in need of a little work. He wasn't one to let emotions cloud his mind when he worked, and if he bothered worrying about his brother than he'd be unnecessarily distracted. His ears flicked and half-listened to the brief debate between Fyston and the head surgeon. He stayed out of it, instead moving to one of the operating room's holographic displays, which showed a real-time cross-section of Delun's body as seen by specialized deep scan units. It was like seeing a 3D representation of an MRI result, only many dozens of times more accurate and easier to view. It only took him a moment to figure out how to use the remarkably intuitive interface, though it helped that he used very similar systems for his work back home.

What work that was he didn't know, though he imagined it had something to do with cybernetics work. Or perhaps robotics. He'd figure it out later.

As Fyston was finishing up with the argumentative doctor, a small droid strutted through the OR doors. Riding atop its head was a sizable toolbox; two similar droids followed it, each of which carried tightly sealed containers atop their boxlike 'heads'.

"You're late," Runt chastised the droids. He took the toolbox from the first droid, and set it atop a stool he found at the edge of the operating room. "Set the boxes by the foot of the operating table, and fetch another load of materials from the ship."

He seized the stool and pulled it over, 'till it was by Delun's wounded side. He pressed his palm to the biometric lock atop the toolbox, which chirped quietly and hissed open. Inside was a bewildering array of precision tools and miscellaneous gadgetry, all perfectly sized to Runt's hands. The very first thing he removed was a palm-sized device, which he slipped under Delun's head and positioned at the base of his skull. "I'm disabling parts of his body's neural interface. There's a risk that his self-defense systems will try to purge any anesthetics he's given, so by doing this, I can both immobilize him and keep him from feeling pain. If he comes around, talk to him. Keep his mind busy."

The device was left in place at the back of Del's skull, which freed Runt to pop open the sealed containers the droids had brought to him. He removed several long 'slabs' of synthetic muscle, encased in a sterile plastic sheath and immersed in a preservative fluid to keep them ready for implantation. He examined it briefly, and once satisfied that the tissue was to his liking, he checked the other components that had been shipped. New power cells and distribution systems, heavy plates of flexible biopolymer armor, nanite repair gel for patching up damage to his skeletal system, and quite a bit of synthetic blood, all bagged up and ready to go.

"I'll replace the power cells, distribution network, and remove the synthetic muscle that's too damaged to be fixed. I'll also patch some of the damage to his ribcage. When that's done, Fyston, I'll need a helping hand or three rebuilding his torso's musculature. After that, he'll be outside my abilities, so I'll turn him back over to the surgical team."

He set to work the moment he finished speaking, having taken only a few moments to don elbow-length gloves - to prevent stray fur from entering Del's wounds - and a rather large face mask that'd obviously been designed for Kushari medical personnel.

The work wasn't easy, not in the slightest. It took Runt far longer than expected, thanks in no small part to the need to fully open Delun's chest to access all the damaged power cells. Minutes turned to hours as he extracted one slagged power cell after another, and gingerly tugged out meters of centimeter-wide power conduits. New cells were pressed home and fused to Del's reinforced bone, which had been mended through the use of a substantial amount of repair gel. Del peacefully slept through the entire process, partly due to the anesthetics given, partly due to his sheer exhaustion. No matter what kept him down, Runt was grateful for his stillness.

The final cell clicked him and glowed briefly, then faded. Runt wired it in, then began the work of cutting away damaged panels of synthetic muscle and fusing in freshly-manufactured muscle. Biopolymer armor was set into place and neatly fused with the surviving armor plates lining the outside of Delun's musculature, and finally, Runt's work was done. After sealing the final plate and giving Delun an injection of repair nanites suspended in synthetic blood, which would replenish his body's internal store and allow him to repair his own internal injuries, the young cat stepped away from Delun and took a heavy breath.

Exhausted. That's what he felt. Utterly exhausted, and covered in a mix of crimson blood and black liquid - synthetic fluids, used by Del's body to keep his extensive cybernetics running at peak capacity. He stripped off his gloves and face mask, disposing of them in the nearest waste disposal chute. The ruined cybernetics he left on a tray to be disposed of in a biohazard incinerator.

"All yours, doctors. Just needs to be put back together and made to look pretty now," Runt murmured tiredly. He slightly adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, and took a brief moment to remove the neural net inhibitor he'd placed on Delun. He slipped the device into his pocket, and lightly touched his brother's cheek. He felt warm to the touch, and according to the myriad displays throughout the OR, his vitals were strong and stable. He gently rubbed the snowy fur of Del's cheek, then stepped away from the feline. Much as he wanted to stay, he was exhausted and he'd do nobody any favors if he passed out in the middle of the OR.

He approached Juno and Fyston, grinning weakly at the two of them. "That left me drained," he admitted with a tired yawn, "I should probably lay down somewhere and get a little strength back. Is there somewhere I can lay down, or take a nap, or...?"

 

[Cassanova]

Juno, who had spent the better part of the hours that had passed sitting in a chair in the waiting area, stood at Runt's appearance through the doors, and moved over to him, laying a concerned hand upon his forearm.

Barely waiting for Runt to finish his statement, Juno had already started looking around, and noted an empty examination room. Vanishing from the waiting area momentarily, she went in, and set the bed up in a horizontal position, grabbing a few pillows and blankets tossing them all onto the bed. A quick fiddle with the light settings lowered the brightness to a more acceptable level. Juno paused, and gave a quick look around the room, filling a glass of water in the nearby sink, placing it upon a table, and then wheeled the unit next to the bed.

Satisfied with her work, Juno exited the examination room, and moved out towards Runt. "Hey..." her tone apologetic and comforting, "There's a bed in here i've set up for you - so you can be close by if anything changes..." She slid her hand onto Runt's forearm, gently pulling it to follow her. When Runt moved with her, she smiled softly and guided him into the room, doing her best to help his bulky mass up onto the table. Standing at the end of the room, Juno looked at Runt, concern evident in her eyes and face.

"If you need anything, Runt. I'll be just outside," she nodded, asserting her statement. "All your armour pieces have been brought here too - one of the other Padawans brought them down - they're just outside in a crate." Sighing, not really knowing what else to say, Juno moved to turn and head outside. If she was not interrupted, she would close the door, and let Runt have his sleep.

 

[Fyston]

Fyston could only watch as Runt worked his magic on Delun, repairing damage that half a dozen top-notch surgeons couldn't fix. Admittedly, it was out of their expertise, but Fyston couldn't help but note Runt's skill. As Runt began wrapping up, he even considered, albeit half-jokingly, seeing if Runt would consider a permanent position with the Jedi.

When Runt motioned for some assistance with Delun's torso, Fyston and Skal, another surgeon, dove in. Skal wielded surgical tools with the utmost precision, using them to bring together muscles in a way that almost made it seem as if he had been born with a surgical gown on. Fyston, on the other hand, healed in another way. Through the Force, he stitched the muscles and worked to mend damaged tissue. They both, however, worked in sync. To them, and the rest of the surgical team, it was almost like a Hapan Ballet. While they looked like individuals working at different rates and with different techniques, they were, in fact, working as one orchestrated team. They followed Runt's instructions, of course, but they never ceased working in tandem. Even before he had begun performing surgery, he had watched various surgical teams and saw a similar level of cooperation.

Despite only having been on the surgical team for 8 surgeries, Fyston's connection with the Force, prior habit of observing the surgical staff, and dedication to his task, combined with his telepathic abilities, meant he had a natural advantage when on a team. Of course, this would increase if there were other Jedi available, though Fyston doubted that Juno knew enough about Force Heal to be able to heal such grievous injuries, if she knew it at all. He didn't mean it as an insult, though, merely as a conclusion that he had made with the information he had.

When it was all said and done, Fyston was more exhausted than he was when he was making his rounds in the hospital, way back before Runt had come into the picture. Even with the Force to revitalize him, his use of the Force to heal and communicate telepathically was draining him, as both required intense focus and concentration. He didn't use Telepathy constantly, though, only when it was needed to assure correct stitching or alignment to allow for Delun to heal properly. If needed, he could have swapped out with another surgeon and meditate to gather what energy he had left, but he needed sleep above all else.

And so, when Runt gave up his spot and noted that everything was up to them, Fyston nodded. Skal sat down and three other members of the 8-man surgical team took over to begin wrapping up the surgery. Fyston exited the operating room with an exhausted sigh, cleaning himself up and looking down at his blood stained lab coat that held blood from Delun's initial care. He slowly pulled it off, more so out of fatigue than an unwillingness to part with his coat.

Walking out to where Juno was waiting, he saw a closed door that lead to an exam room. Normally, they were kept open, and Fyston only imagined that either a patient or Runt had taken the room. Turning to Juno, he continued walking, stopping 10 feet from her. "Go get some rest, Juno," he said softly. "If you can't find a room to sleep in, I've got a couch in my office. I'd be sleeping in my chair, as it reclines, but it's a place to sleep. He won't be awake, most likely, until tomorrow morning." Fyston looked at a nearby chrono and his eyes went wide when he realized that they had spent most of the day caring for Runt and Delun, though the majority of the time had gone into the surgery.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Runt wasn't about to let Juno slip out without being properly thanked. She, like Fyston, had done a lot to help him - she'd cared for him, and Fyston had saved his brother's life. He owed both of them a debt, but hers was one he could start repaying that moment. As she turned to leave, the feline stepped closer to her and looped a single arm around her in a half-hug. "Thanks for everything, Juno. I really appreciate it." His words were accompanied by a soft and pleasant smile. As he still wasn't entirely sure what Human boundaries on physical contact were, he only held the hug for a few moments before releasing her. The last thing he wanted to do was overstep his bounds too much.

He crawled up into the bed and nestled in under the blankets given to him. It was a bit uncomfortable compared to the deep and plush circle beds he was used to, but compared to a cryopod, it was pure luxury. It only took him a few moments to get himself tucked in and comfortable, at which point he let loose a loud, appreciative purr. He closed his eyes and set his glasses on the glass-bearing table she'd wheeled over, and let his tail drape lazily over the edge of the bed. "G'night Juno," he murmured, unsure or whether or not she was even there. He was out like a light within a few moments, as sleep rose up and took firm hold over the Kushari.

Meanwhile, Delun was hardly slumbering peacefully. A combat cyborg, his body had little need for anything more than a few hours of sleep at a time. Runt's extensive use of repair nanites had helped to accelerate his body's healing process, and with his injuries patched and his body stitched back together by Fyston, he was almost good as new. Bloody and beaten, but otherwise good as new. His body's onboard systems rebooted as he laid there in the OR, with the team preparing to transfer him to a repulsor gurney for transport to a recovery ward. He felt warmth - hands. Lots of them, taking hold of his body wherever good purchase could be found.

He was moved, albeit with great effort. His body burnt and ached, but was no longer complaining about imminent systems failures or damage. He felt relief, if only because the bright lights he'd seen hadn't been the afterlife - it'd been surgical lights. As he was only dimly aware of his environment, he didn't bother moving or even trying to open his eyes. He merely laid there, drifting in and out of consciousness, and deeply relieved to find himself alive. He was transferred again, this time to a bed, and a specialized medical droid began cleaning the blood out of his pelt. The 'bot lulled him off to sleep in short order, which bought the ward's staff a few precious hours 'till the giant fully woke.

 

[Cassanova]

Juno appreciated the gestures of Runt, and the hug was a nice touch. He was like a giant portable blanket. Nonetheless when she finally exited the room and was greeted by Fyston, with the suggestion of leaving, Juno promptly shook her head, "With respect, Master Sutsgy. I'll stay," she waved dismissively towards the chairs in the waiting area, "I'll sleep here if I need to."

She gave Fyston a deep, respectful bow, and moved to the chairs where she laid herself down across them, her legs hanging up and over the armrest. It would have been considered uncomfortable for most, but Juno had acquired an acceptance of all things uncomfortable. Fancy clothes, tree stumps, and politics. Chairs hardly made a difference.

Once she found a position that wasn't completely painful, Juno closed her eyes and slipped off into gentle light sleep. She wouldn't dream or anything in such a state, as a single noise that appeared out of place would wake her from this sleep.

 

[Fyston]

Fyston nodded understandingly when Juno refused his offer. She had forged a connection with Runt and Fyston knew what it was like to wait with a friend. He'd waited with the families of patients many times, often acting as a go between to give them status updates when they, otherwise, could not. He smiled at her and returned her bow with one of his own. "I understand. If you, or anyone else, need me, I'll be in my office. Take your second left and then your first right, and it's the first office on the right side of the hallway. Good night," he said, excusing himself with a hand gesture.

It would only be a short walk to his office, though he already felt the effects of fatigue creeping in on him. Despite being in top physical condition, even an experienced Jedi could only stave off sleep for so long. He felt his muscles weigh upon him and considered dropping in to one of the nurses stations and taking a nap there, though the thought of his comfortable chair in his comfortable office kept him going. Some thought that office chairs were supposed to be professional and strict, though Fyston believed otherwise. If he were to spend the majority of the day on his feet, making rounds, or doing medical procedures, he wanted to be able to relax in a comfortable chair.

He had used his own credits for it and hadn't looked back. It reclined to a near horizontal position, allowing him to sleep whenever sleep was an option, it contained a seat warmer and the main portion of it, which supported his back, had even been upgraded to massage the back of whoever was sitting in it. It was luxurious, though it was the only thing Fyston had bought for himself in quite some time, aside from new clothes when he needed them.

His door slid open when he entered the access code, the lights automatically coming on. His office had two rooms, though the one in the back was only large enough to contain holorecords, a wardrobe, and emergency medical supplies. The front portion of his office, however, was made with interaction in mind. Taking into account the fact that different species had different personal space definitions, the gap between the two chairs in front of Fyston's desk was fairly wide. Behind the chairs was the couch that he had offered Juno. The office's walls were painted a beige color, with the wall behind Fyston's desk being an accent wall, which was a calm blue. There were meanings behind each color, though the differences between the two also tied the room together. It was strange, but the Knight understood.

Fyston paused only to grab a robe out of the wardrobe to use as a blanket before sitting down at his desk. He did, however, depress the button that called the nearest nurse's station. "Let me know if Delun's condition changes," he said confidently before leaning back in his chair. He got comfortable and threw the robe over himself as a blanket, activating the warming mechanism in the chair as he reclined it to a near horizontal level. With a long sigh, the exhausted man quickly fell into sleep's deep embrace.

 

[Jiang Winters]

As first light washed over the Temple, and the ward slowly stirred to life, so too did its largest resident. Delun yawned heavily and stretched out in his bed, which creaked in protest to his motion. Stout though it was, it simply wasn't built to handle a creature of Del's size or weight. He sat upright, and swung his legs out over the bed's edge. He felt a sensor clipped to his finger, and blinked in surprise. A heartbeat sensor - cute. Some overzealous intern must've thought his fingers were natural, though he could hardly blame them. His synthetic muscle ran hot, and his synthetic flesh and fur were crafted from regenerating organic materials. As close to the real thing as money could by.

But they still didn't replicate a heartbeat. Both his arms were synthetic from the shoulder down, rendering the little heartbeat sensor worse than useless. He tugged it off and dropped it on the bed, along with the other sensors attached to his body. Naturally, alarms chirped and buzzed off at the ward's main desk - they must've thought he'd passed in his sleep. Oh, but they'd be surprised. Delun grinned at the thought.

Then he realized he wasn't clothed. Not well, anyways. The Order didn't have gowns in his size, it seemed, and so someone had wrapped a sheet around his waist and tied it off to preserve his decency. He was grateful for that, at least. He could hear a great commotion outside the sliding frosted glass door to his recovery room - medical personnel shouting for this and that, and something about a 'Code' of some kind. He presumed it had to do with someone flatlining. Him, quite probably.

He shook his head and chortled, and put it out of his mind for the moment. He ran his heavy paws across his chest, claws easing out to scritch at his fur and the tough synthetic flesh beneath. No gaping holes. A bit of tenderness where he'd been opened up, but that was fading. He couldn't feel any stitches or staples, either. He presumed that either his regenerative systems had consumed the closures and used the mass to replenish themselves, or whoever opened him up had used the Force to heal him, or maybe tissue glue.

He didn't rightly know, but judging by the mirror on the wall, he looked to be in damned fine shape. He was still his big, sable-striped sienna and snowy self. Big, broad, muscular, and fuzzy. He laughed softly at himself and grinned as he let his head hang for a moment. He was alive. His plan had failed entirely, but he was alive. The cat laughed and shook his head - the Force really had a strange way of going about its business.