#trooperstitch

     The Separatists had no qualms in the use of weapons of mass destruction Chemical, biological, radiological, or otherwise, nothing was out of the question. Many of their plots had already been thwarted over the course of the war, in fact, and they formed a shadow in the back of the mind of every clone that shipped out from Kamino. When would they have to finally use that CBRN training for real?

    “If your team has any probe droids or helmet imagers, activate them and give us remote access ASAP.”

     While identifying the exact agent used could wait until the proper investigatory teams arrived, seeing the weapons’ effects then would narrow it down and greatly inform their overall response. Judging from the soberness of the medic’s voice, he assumed it was going to be ugly, and steeled himself accordingly. 

    “Find adequate shelter a safe distance from the evac point and move the survivors there. I’m sending my Lieutenant in another dropship — your priority is to keep them stable until he arrives with more instructions. Advisors will be on the line if you need us, Trooper. Good luck, and keep that helmet tight.”

The sergeant wiggles off his bucket, rolling his shoulder up to take a look. It hurts, but considering how the medic is treating him, it can’t be that bad. He can feel his arm, at the very least, even if he can’t see the wound all that well. With a grunt, he stands up, a bit of pooled blood dripping onto the floor of the hastily-assembled CCP.

     Having already spotted the aerial battle droids, reinforcements arrived only a few short moments after the medic's desperate plea for aid. A swoop bike crested the hill and swerved to a halt just long enough for two heavily armed ARC troopers, one red and one blue, to seamlessly dismount and begin engaging enemies.

     Behind the swoop came an Infantry Support Platform, which strafed side-to-side along the hill as its blaster cannons swiveled between the heavier targets, blasting them to bits in short order. As the tide quickly began to turn, the troopers of Gamma-Two left the cover they had retreated to and advanced back on their artillery pieces.

     The ARC Captain fired as he moved, coming up alongside CT-4836's position. Ducking into cover, he let his rotary blaster cool off and greeted the medic.

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“I’m more of the... walk it off type than the sleep it off type,” Siri brushes off by way of explanation. Sure, the medic had told her to get some sleep over an hour ago. And sure, the bacta does make one incredibly tired and thus make staying awake incredibly difficult. 

But she doesn’t have time to sleep. They’re at war, and she has a duty to her men. They get medical attention, then she gets medical attention; they eat, then she eats; they sleep, then she sleeps. That’s the only way she operates as a general, and she won’t sleep while there’s still work to be done, nor while she still has men bleeding in the medbay. Her broken arm is set and tied in a sling; it can be healed faster at a real hospital, not a ship medbay, but they aren’t there yet. Admittedly, it hurts like an angry bantha, but she’s not going to complain about it when she has troops who aren’t lucky enough to have kept all their limbs. 

She’d stayed out of the medbay long enough, trying to give Stitch and the other medics space to tend to their brothers, but she can’t sit still, and she’s already rerouted their course to a hospital. She’s not even going to try to sleep, even though she can’t necessarily remember exactly how long she’s been awake.