#116th

"What do you make of her?"

A soft voice came up beside him, Jedi General Rhee. Crowe grunted in acknowledgement.

"She's alright," he responded, not wanting to commit to an opinion one way or the other. Not yet.

She was not the first stray they'd picked up. Far from it. No matter where they went, on a mission, in the thick of a battlefield, even on R&R, they always seemed to attract whatever sad, lost, and lonely being was around, from Tookas to orphans to escaped slaves. They'd shelter the poor things for a bit and then help them find a home elsewhere. Though Crowe was pretty sure there was still a porg being secretly kept on one of the other ships.

This woman, Joan Vo, was a little different. For one, she hadn't begged to come aboard. Hadn't tried to strike any deals or use the sad puppy in the rain tactic that others had done. No, she simply stated it. Demanded it, even. And for another, she seemed equally determined to stay. Become part of the crew. Crowe wasn't sure what the legalities were with such a thing. The Republic would get their fair share of civilian volunteers, but they were often in administrative or training roles, not as an active combat medic.

All that to say, Crowe didn't know what to make of her. And he wasn't about to get attached to something he didn't understand.

"She has heart," Rhee was saying. The Jedi's gentle voice just barely managed to recapture Crowe's attention from his confused thoughts. "The boys need some of that, after all the hell they've been through these past few cycles."

Crowe only grunted again. He supposed he was right. They'd been on very punishing back-to-back missions that had lost more brothers than expected. Though he wasn't sure what this lady would be able to do about it. There were things not even a doctor could heal.

She seemed to sense they were looking at her. She promptly rose from the chair and came over.

"Dr. Vo." Rhee extended his hand, not having been properly introduced yet.

"Please, call me Joan," she said, taking his hand. Her voice was low and raspy, as if she'd been shouting all day. Which, Crowe knew, she had not. She had remained calmed and assertive throughout all the horrors they'd faced on that cruiser.

"And you may call me Rhee," smiled the Jedi. The 116th was very loose with their names, rarely ever using titles unless they were around other units or Republic leaders. Even then, Rhee insisted on being called General Rhee as his last name was far too difficult to pronounce for most.

"I understand you wish to join the battalion," Rhee continued as they dropped hands. "We would be honored to have such a courageous spirit among our ranks."

"We already have a medical team." A new voice joined the little circle they'd created at the back of the bridge. Captain Civic, Crowe's righthand. The solider was opposite to Crowe in every way, which was saying something considering that Crowe himself had quite a dueling personality. Where Crowe had a laidback, "live-and-let-live" demeanor in his downtime, Civic was much more concerned with the status quo and all the "shoulds" and "should nots" that came with it. But on a battlefield, Crowe held his ground while Civic improvised. Crowe was competitive; Civic was civil.

The list could keep running on, but despite all the differences, the two brothers were tight-knit, leading their men in a united effort. There was only one other clone whom Crowe was so completely bonded with, but they were assigned different battalions. Civic was his true brother in arms.

Joan didn't seem put off by Civic and his disapproval suddenly showing up to the conversation. "But you didn't bring them with you today," she countered. She crossed her arms over her chest, not-so-subtly drawing attention to the fact there was still blood all over it.

"They were needed elsewhere," Civic responded cooly.

"And I'm not. I am an additional resource."

Civic already had his mouth open for another retort but Rhee wisely stepped in before things got out of hand.

"And we are very grateful for your generosity," he said with another kind smile. "Now, it will be some time before we join the rest of the fleet. Allow me to show you to refreshers so you can get cleaned up. Civic will make sure a room gets prepared for your stay as well."

The Jedi gave the Captain a knowing look as he ushered Joan to walk away with him.

Civic waited until the two got out of sight before letting out a frustrated huff.

"Don't know what you're so upset about," Crowe chuckled lowly. "She doesn't strike me as the type to steal your socks."

He was referring to a pretty Twi'lek girl they'd once rescued from a nasty old Baron. All the boys had been smitten with her, until they realized she'd been stealing odd things from them all.

Civic's mouth only deepened in its frown. "I'd rather deal with petty theft."

"Than what?"

"Exactly. We don't know what this chick's MO is. What civvy in their right mind would demand to work with the GAR on the frontlines? She's either crazy, or she's up to something."

Crowe agreed that it was odd, and that he didn't like not understanding what this woman was about. But so revealed another difference between him and Civic. To him, this was an intriguing mystery that needed to play itself out. He was content to simply keep an eye on her and nothing else.

Civic, on the other hand, was lining her up in his scope, ready to fire at the first sign of maliciousness. Crowe almost felt sorry for the girl, if he didn't believe she could handle it. Of the few things he knew about Joan so far, she wasn't phased by much.

"Well, like it or not, she's here to stay," he clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll just have to make do."

Crowe hid a smile as his words predictably got Civic all worked up.

"Make do? Make do?" The poor clone was practically hyperventilating at such a notion. "What if she's plotting to overtake control of the fleet, use our forces against the rest of the garrison? What if she kills us in our sleep? Or what if she's just crazy and still kills us in our sleep?"

Crowe just shook his head and left Civic standing on the bridge with more of his what-if scenarios. Only time would tell what Dr. Joan Vo was up to. In the meantime, Crowe needed a shower. He'd just realized that he, too, was still covered in the blood of their fallen brother.

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