ORDO SKIRATA

Ordo Skirata in Summary:

[ [ a little affection goes a long way

null11 - ( ˘ ³˘)♥  for my muses reaction to your muse randomly kissing them

For whatever reason, it’s always raining when they’re stranded. “ Just an observation, ” tacked on to the end of the statement, just to cover all his bases. But at least he’s found them decent cover, this time. Some hole in the wall safe house that’s actually safe, for once.

One out of seven even after his cover’s blown is not bad. Even after he brought down an entire city block. Let’s not count casualties right now, but let’s just say he’s winning by a long shot.

Not that it’s a competition.

Open Your Eyes | School of Seven Bells

Turn around in the past

Ordo woke up tasting the smoke.

He was sitting up and his breaths were quick. Besany flicked on the light, grabbed his hand. For a few minutes he sat there in silence, focused on his breathing. In and out and in and out. Then he saw the boxes in their room. The walls were blue, the kind of gray-blue of a clear morning with a few clouds. Their room.

“Did I yell?”

“A little.”

Besany threw off the blankets and walked to the bedroom door.

“Don’t,” he said. She was gone.

“This one won’t make it.”

Ordo had tracked down a wet doctor because the medical droids would only repeat the dismal numbers back to him. Ordo stared at the doctor, unsatisfied.

“Do you see this?” The doctor went to the machine next to the trooper’s bed, its screen scrolling vitals and numbers. “This is keeping him alive.”

“I understand that, doctor. But he's awake during the day, isn’t he?”

The doctor looked down at the clone, asleep for now, with a tube down his throat and a machine breathing for him. “He can’t keep his pressures up. That inhalant–his lungs will never recover. Captain, I’m sorry.”

Ordo looked from the top of the bed to the bottom and something caught his eye. A piece of flimsi. He took it. Get well soon.

“We’re going to make him comfortable.”

His thoughts raced. The note. Someone came to visit this trooper and left a note. When Ordo swallowed, it hurt.

“Commander Kurr left that.”

Ordo nodded.

“I tried to get him a lung transplant. Plenty of donors.” The doctor ran a hand over her face. “They won’t waste the resources on his surgery.”

“No. No, I’m not gonna do that.”

Ordo paced in front of the heap of flesh that had once carried himself like an ARC trooper.

“I have to go now, Kal’buir.”

Ordo held his hand out to Kom’rk for the blaster. Kom’rk placed it in his brother’s open palm. The apartment was closed up and hot and they were down to their undersuits.

The Nulls didn’t have any further taunts or questions for the vod kyramud. It didn’t matter to either of them if the war had gotten to the ARC trooper. Ordo raised his chin when the bruised and bleeding face identical to his lifted to meet his. He leveled the blaster and fired.

With a sniff and a turn, Ordo handed the blaster back to Kom’rk, wouldn’t look at him. Walked right past him to the window and opened it. The air pulled in the window, thick and hot, and the light from the suns was bright yellow. Ordo squinted.

     –He didn’t have to think it over for long. Jaro was tired, not that he would admit it to anyone. Though, since accepting an offer was, by no means, admitting defeat, he gave a curt nod.

“I know what you did.”