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Captain Rex makes his way purposefully towards the med tent, nodding at tired troopers along the way. The 501st and 212th have been fighting a terrible campaign on this dust ball of a moon for three days, and the Seppies show no sign of relenting. Both sides are now trenching in, which has brought about a temporary lull in the fighting. How the battle droids can function at all in the black volcanic dust covering the barren landscape is anyone’s guess. The fine grit is certainly making the Republic troopers’ lives a misery. It’s penetrating the filtration systems of their helmets and grinding its way between the joints of their armor, chaffing skin and irritating injuries.
Rex ducks through the med tent entrance and quietly hisses as the motion jars his dislocated shoulder. It hurts like Sith lightning and he reflexively cradles his useless arm closer to his body. Rex is self-aware enough to realize that pain and fatigue are really beginning to affect his ability to function properly, but he has one more critical task to accomplish before he can rest.
His gritty eyes scan the tent until they land on Kix, his chief medical officer, who is sewing stitches into Echo’s bicep. It’s no surprise to find Fives hovering near his twin’s side during the benign procedure, but right now he’s preoccupied with applying a bacta patch to a nasty bruise across his own ribs. Rex is relieved to see that he won’t need to track Jesse down, since the dusty scout is half asleep on a chair next to Kix. The squadmates are probably waiting for the medic to finish before hitting the mess together for a late meal.
The troopers glance up at their captain’s approach and Fives declares a little gleefully, “You look like BanthaSpit.”
“Well, none of us resemble Coruscanti fashion models, now do we,” Rex drawls back absently. Now that his quick assessment has assured him that his ARC troopers are basically fit and mission ready, he gets right to the point. “Listen, boys. I’ve got a mission for you ARCs and it’s Priority One.”
Kix gives his captain a mildly pained look as he finishes with the ugly gash on Echo’s arm, but the other men stoically hide their battle weariness under professional demeanors and nods. Everyone is exhausted and fed up with this kriffin’ campaign, but the ARCs are able to dig a little deeper and answer their captain’s call. Rex feels the familiar warmth of pride rise in his chest for these men.
He gingerly removes the pauldron covering his banged-up shoulder and says, “Skywalker gave me a direct order to report to medbay, but of course he refused to be looked at himself. I’m gonna need you to get him here STAT. Cody says he’s tracking blood all over the command tent.”
Jesse snorts derisively. “Jedi can take the hard knocks… but just mention a trip to medical to patch them up afterwards and they disappear in a puff of smoke. Sets a terrible example for the shinies.”
Kix’s aggrieved expression at the mention of Skywalker’s blood is nothing new and he bitterly complains, “The generals have been practically mainlining stims for two days without proper rest or nutrition. And they most likely have serious injuries they’re trying to ignore---.”
He tosses his blood-stained med-gloves into the refuse bin with an emphatic smack and gets up to see to the captain, who is very much in need of his attention. “How we’re supposed to keep these reckless idiots alive through this war is beyond my comprehension.”
“Aw Kix, release it to the Force,” Fives advises cheekily, prompting Echo to reach over and smack his brother on the head for baiting the already aggravated CMO. Fives rubs his head, giving Echo a dark look as he pulls his upper blacks down in place before re-donning his scuffed chest plate.
Rex submits to Kix’s ministrations as the medic jabs him with a local before wrestling his shoulder back into place. The captain grinds out, “All right boys. Kenobi is Cody’s problem. But I want real suggestions for how to get our general in here to see Kix. We all know he’ll fight it like a cornered rancor.”
The troopers go quiet in thought, trying to come up with a new solution to a situation they’ve encountered countless times. It’s not looking hopeful but then Fives breaks the silence. “I may have an idea. Something I saw on the holonet. But it’s a one-off….” he adds warningly.
Captain Rex watches as Kix wraps his shoulder for stability and scoffs mildly, “The holonet, huh? It’s not from one of those ‘Proper Care and Feeding of your Jedi’ sites, is it?”
Fives pulls his deece from his holster and checks the clip. “Nah, I-funny.”
*****
Echo, Fives and Jesse arrive at the periphery of the command center, helmets hooked to their belts to appear less intimidating. Their reconnaissance reveals both the generals and Commander Cody exiting the comms tent for a last-minute word. Echo’s mouth quirks up. Good. Maybe they’ll get two Jedi for the price of one since Kenobi’s protective nature will compel him to follow the younger man to medical. Echo practically rubs his hands together. If the ARCs manage to get General Kenobi to the med tent for treatment, the 212th’s medics might just show their gratitude by forking over some extra cookie-packs.
The ARCs try to appear nonchalant as they observe the Jedi. Kenobi’s normally tidy cream robes are covered in the infernal volcanic dust they’ve all been plowing through on this Force Forsaken moon. His face is streaked with smoke and there’s a red smear across one cheek as a trickle of blood lazily makes its way down from a cut. Reason #285 to wear a helmet---stubborn Jedi.
Kenobi has his hands in the sleeves of his robes, probably to hide their shaking as he comes off the adrenaline of battle and too many stims. Cody optimistically hands his general a water bottle but instead of drinking from it, Kenobi uses it to gesture towards the camp perimeter as he gives a few last instructions. Echo thinks Cody just might cry.
General Skywalker turns to walk their way and he’s in no better shape. Echo can see the deep lines of exhaustion under the dirt and sweat on the young man’s face. Kenobi calls out wearily, “Anakin, I’ll be back at our tent in a few minutes for Master Yoda’s holo briefing.”
Uh oh. Echo meets Fives’ eye. But he sees the resolve harden in his twin’s expression and they come to an unspoken agreement. A glance at Jesse and the scout nods in solidarity. All right. The old toad at the temple is just gonna have to wait for his SITREP.
Skywalker waves a tired hand in acknowledgement but scrapes up the energy to snipe, “Yeah, yeah Obi-Wan. I won’t start the riveting report about our latest stellar stalemate without you.” Kenobi huffs a small laugh, face easing for just a moment as his eyes follow Anakin. And Skywalker’s expression lightens at the sound of the chuckle, having achieved his goal. All the troopers know the fierce protectiveness the two generals share for each other, and Echo experiences a flare of devotion for both Jedi. They fight so hard and care so much for each other and their men.
As Skywalker approaches, he stumbles a little then catches himself and walks carefully in the direction of his tent. The stims have definitely worn off. One hand is now clutching his bicep and there is no mistaking the dark sticky substance steadily seeping through the fingers of his glove. Bleeding on the command tent floor indeed. And now the man’s moving in the opposite direction of medical. Oh yeah, Kix is gonna blow a gasket.
Echo is suddenly grateful that Fives is the point man on this mission because he knows his general will be able to pick up on the intense care and concern Echo is feeling for the young man right now. Hopefully, Fives’ habitual aura of cheer and brash confidence will be enough to hide his true intentions from his intuitive Jedi. Captain Rex gave them a mission, blast it, and no amount of pesky Force nonsense will sway them from carrying out their duty.
But Skywalker has already clocked their attention on him and his expression becomes wary and a little mulish when the three troopers fall in around him--- Jesse behind, and Echo and Fives at flank.
Skywalker’s eyes narrow. “Gentlemen. Something I can help you with.”
Echo catches his breath at the warning tone and fervently hopes to the stars that Fives can pull off this crazy plan. But Fives, bless him, just casually places one hand on his general’s shoulder to gently arrest his movement, and then innocently raises the other gloved hand.
“Yes, Sir. Can you tell me… does this napkin smell like chloroform to you?”