Onderon
O-9
Iziz City, Public Health District
BactaCorps Medical Facility
A low buzz and steady beeping provided the music of the med pod. Rain pelted the window above the patient’s head. Funny choice, a skylight, all I have seen is only gloom, Bast thought dryly. Her internal commentary was wildly amusing to her, facilitated not only by her loneliness and guilt, but also enough anesthetics to make a bantha sleep for a month. The rangers fantastical musing was interrupted by a gentle, if slightly gravelly voice.
“Good evening, Bast. How are you feeling? We have given you the maximum dose of long term pain reliever so I do hope they are sufficient.“
The nurse shifted his patient onto her side to inspect the newly- installed prosthetic spine. The swelling had decreased, and the area was now a yellowish-green rather than a vibrant purple, indicative that the bruising was healing as well. The procedure she endured had been intensive. The ranger was flown in just two days prior, barely conscious and gravely injured. She had been given immediate treatment— emergency surgery to replace her exo-spine. Not only was removing the fused infrastructure of the device extremely difficult, but installing a new one on twice- damaged vertebrae took the skill of the most veteran surgeon in the med center. The nurse, not for the first time, wondered how she had managed to get herself paralyzed twice. However, considering her position as a Sector Ranger and casualty of battle, it would have been unwise to raise up the subject.
“You are healing remarkably. At this rate, you should be discharged within two weeks”
“And when can I return to work?”
“Do not worry about work right now. From what I have heard, you have been given a month’s leave by Ranger Command”
“That did not answer my question. Command is being kind, but they also do not want to have the liability of a wounded ranger, nor should they. When can I return?
Bast, having fallen into her interrogation routine, waited patiently for an answer, her eyes focused, her head cocked. The drugs had temporarily lost their sedation qualities, overridden by the habit of alertness on Bast’s part. Then it hit her. Not for the first time. It came in waves. Torture. Pain. Where was her team? Darmus? Corran? That poor boy had witnessed too much. She hoped he would forgive her. Did those she brought in make it? No, of course not. She had seen their bodies, like so many others. Her pockets had been stuffed with their badges. But these she knew. These haunted her. She had led them to their deaths. Her decisions had killed them. What do murderers get? They get justice. She had to get justice too. She was no better than anyone she had ever arrested. She was disgusting, the blood on her hands had to be washed clean. But how does one repent for the murder of 13? Her own death could only cover one of the ones she had caused, and another death would do the galaxy no good. No, she must save 14 lives, outweigh the damage.
“As soon as you are discharged, it is up to your Commanding Officer... um... Miss?”
“Sorry, yes. Thank you.“ The ranger swallowed hard and rolled back to analyse the ceiling.