#general dane

General Dane stumbled onto the gunship, half dragging and half carrying an injured shiny over one shoulder. One of her Lieutenants – Omen, she suspected – swooped in to take the shiny from her, but her eyes were too crusted over with dried blood and mud to be sure.

“General, focus on me.” The calm, smooth voice of her medic, Canvas, echoed hollowly through her skull as gloved hands cupped her cheeks, a flash of light stinging both eyes as it was shined at her. “Can you hear me, sir?”

His voice was muffled, far away, and Lyra realized for a split second that one of her earpieces had been knocked loose in the battle. Kriff, she needed to see his mouth. Let me read your lips.

She reached a hand up to wipe away the grime covering her eyes, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. “Hang on, General. You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead, let me clean that first.”

She felt another hand on her arm, and a finger rapidly tracing letters into her palm. I-A-M-H-E-R-E.

“Whisper.” She managed, her own voice sounding thick and dazed.

“The Captain’s right here, sir.” Canvas answered quietly, still working on her forehead. He said something in a clipped voice to somebody nearby, and Lyra felt a second set of hands against her shoulders, easing her slightly to the side. “We’re almost back to the fleet, General. Just hang in there a bit longer and we can get to the med-bay.”

She could feel her Captain tracing words into her palm again, but she was too out of it to recognize what the movements were. She blinked at the blurry shape she thought was Whisper, and was answered by a flurry of rapid Handspeak as her Captain tried signing to her.

“With all due respect, Captain, I think she has a concussion. She’s not going to be able to process anything when you’re signing that quickly.” Canvas spoke aloud to the Captain, and Lyra’s vision cleared just enough to catch a glimpse of Canvas shooting a sharp look at his Captain.

“Hang on, sir.” Canvas soothed again, and Lyra felt a cool, damp cloth swipe over her face, and her vision cleared a little further.

Captain Whisper had his helmet off, and was hovering slightly behind Canvas, his lips pressed into a tight line as he looked at his General. His helmet was tucked under one arm, but he let go of it and let it clatter to the floor so he could sign roughly to his General. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t think that’s your place to say, Captain.” Lyra replied with a chuckle, holding still as Canvas spread bacta across the gash on her forehead. “I’m alright, Canvas.”

“With respect, sir, you aren’t.” Canvas answered shortly as Whisper signed “You aren’t.” over his shoulder. “We’re almost back to the fleet. Can you hear me?”

“Sort of.” Lyra replied. “Think I lost one of my earpieces.”

“We know. Blaze found it on the field. It’s broken, but at least we have the pieces, maybe we can-.” Canvas cut himself off, turning towards the front of the gunship. “We’re docking with the fleet now, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll manage until you can take care of the rest of the men.”

“Sir-.”

“That’s an order, Canvas.” Lyra told him curtly, pushing herself to her feet as Whisper picked up his helmet off the floor, putting it back on roughly as he moved to stand beside Lyra. She stumbled slightly when she stood, her head spinning, and she called on the Force, waiting for the calm to wash over her before descending the gunship.

“General Dane?” A familiar voice called to her as a trooper skidded to a halt in front of her gunship. “Captain Whisper called for me. You need a hand?”

Lyra turned towards Whisper. “You called the 69th?”

“They were on board anyway.” Whisper signed back. “Rashe offered, and their Commander can help fix your earpiece.”

“Very well.” She sighed, turning back to Rashe. “Thank you, Rashe. I believe Canvas has his hands full in the med-bay, if you’d like to help him. We took a beating.”

“Your head, sir.” Rashe prompted quietly, offering Whisper a small tube of bacta and some bandages. “If you won’t come to the med-bay, at least let Captain Whisper help you patch it up?”

“My men are hurt far worse than I am. I’ll manage on my own, thank you.” Lyra insisted again, and she heard an audible sigh from Whisper.

She reluctantly allowed Whisper to lead her out of the hangar, the muffled voices and chatter from around her overwhelming, coupled with the strain on her body from injuries and the fatigue of battle.

Captain Whisper removed his helmet again once they’d made it into General Dane’s quarters, and he closed the door behind them, setting his helmet on the table and grabbing the bacta and bandages, beckoning Lyra to sit on the bed. The Jedi did as her Captain instructed, sitting quietly as Whisper sat across from her, tilting her chin up with one finger to apply a bit more bacta.

“I would’ve been fine, you know.” Lyra told him quietly. “I knew I had plenty of time to get out, and I could’ve deflected the blast if my hands weren’t full.”

Whisper didn’t have to sign for Lyra to know he was upset with her. His steely grey eyes said enough as he looked up at her, picking up the bandage and pressing it lightly against her forehead. When he pulled back, he began to move his hands again.

“It doesn’t matter if you thought you had time or not, sir.” He explained patiently. “My job – our job – is to keep you alive. How can we be expected to do that when you break your own formation to run directly into the line of fire?”

“As a Jedi, it is my duty to preserve all human life, including those of my men.” Lyra replied in a hard voice.

“And as your Captain,” Whisper’s eyes narrowed, his hands jerky and curt. “It is my duty to keep you from behaving like a bolt-brained shiny.”

“Watch your tone.” Lyra snapped back, rising to her feet. “You forget your place, Captain.”

She could feel the hurt in the Force, and Whisper narrowed his eyes at her. She sighed softly, taking one of his gloved hands in hers and squeezing lightly. “I apologize.” She murmured. “The day has been unkind to us, and to our men.”

Whisper squeezed her hands back. A small gesture, yet reassuring all the same. They stayed like that a moment, and Lyra dropped his hands, stepping back. “I’m going to check on the rest of our men.” She told him. “Will you contact Commander Doubles, see if there is anything that can be done for my earpiece?”

Whisper nodded, signing a quick “yes sir” before picking up his helmet and sliding it back on and ducking out the door.

“Whisper.” Lyra called suddenly, and her Captain stopped, looking at her over his shoulder. She hesitated, and he tilted his head to the side slightly in question. She shook her head. “Never mind. Carry on.”