A Different Perspective

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Sweet crimson spilled from the gashes in his chest like a morose waterfall. The pain was a far away thing; a spike of sensation that prodded at the back of Cedric's skull as his vision began to clear. He could smell burning ozone and the nose-curling stench of sulfur in the air. The Jedi's plate-bound hands gripped his open wounds in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

This should hurt more. I've lost too much blood.

The realization that his body was falling into shock fell over Cedric's mind like a damp blanket. He fought the encroaching darkness with the ferocity of a wounded beast; he had come much too far to die alone in this ditch.

In true desperation, Cedric reached out to the empyrean. It leapt forth to meet his call; the familiar energies of the Light filled his form and, for a moment, cast aside the aching pain that had slowly begun to ravage his body. He asked of its aid, and it responded in turn, an invisible well of energy shifting the laws of reality itself to keep the Jedi Master's insides from spilling out into the blood-soaked grass.

Slowly, Cedric Grayson rose. He looked upon the corpse of the demonic Sithspawn he had been sent here to slay. The ruined corpse of what looked to be a cross between a Rancor and a humanoid being had not died easily, but its demise was something required of Cedric. The beast had been the progeny of his father's experiments, and the death it had sown throughout this world's innocent populace were as much Cedric's own responsibility as his progenitor.

Despite his efforts, Cedric found his vision growing hazy as he limped out from the ditch. He could barely make out the image of the speeder as it came to settle down alongside him, and he could only mumble a string of curses beneath his breath as two First Order soldiers stepped out from the vehicle.

A hand fell instinctively toward his lightsaber, but it never reached his belt. He heard the snap-hiss of a stun bolt, and then found himself thrown back into the void.

The soldiers approached the crumpled body of the Jedi Master cautiously, weapons raised to gun the man down should he rise again.

"He's still breathing," one of the men remarked.

The other scowled. "Kark. Gotta bring 'im in then for questioning, otherwise it'll be our shebs on the line." The soldier shook his head, "Assuming he doesn't die in the flight to the medtechs."

His compatriots just gave him a shrug. Together, the soldiers lugged the armored man into the back of the speeder, removed his lightsaber from his belt, and took off toward a city on the edge of the skyline.

"Go ahead and let the docs know we have a live one, and he's going to need urgent care."

Silence followed as the speeder ghosted its way to the hospital.

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

Aes'ona had been awake for days, on her feet for many of the hours that made them up. Order reports declared that there was only one, but all of the stormtroopers she had talked to swore up and down that all the massacres of innocent First Imperial civilians were conducted by a multiple Sithspawn. It simply had to be. Still, she tried to ignore the stories, what she deemed the fear-induced ramblings of her dying patients. A mass hysteria, maybe? Hopefully.

In any case, the Order had redeployed the doctor to a small hospital on Atrisia to deal with the grizzly damage this thing, whatever it was, was causing planetwide. Though, for the most part, she was playing mortician. Beings came, more often than not, in in mangled, skinless parts. They almost never made it. She would have nightmares for months if she ever actually slept long enough to engage her REM cycle.

Maybe it was slowing down, was Aes'ona's only thought--there had been no victims today. Despite that fact, her only set of scrubs were stained pale red from blood that wouldn't come out no matter how many times she had washed them.

She was making the beds for the umpteenth time today out of nervousness when her comm crackled to life and a gruff voice came over it, informing the staff that they had "found a live one." Aes'ona's heart leaped up into her throat: she, for some reason, had a good feeling about this one.

She rose her hand to press her receiver and responded, "Tell the team to bring him into Surgery Two. Also to nevermind the dead; we haven't had time to move the casualties." Or room, but complaining seemed out of line.

When she finished, she ran into the surgery room that she had mentioned, some nurses following her as well. "Doctor?" one asked expectantly.

Pointing beside the operating table at an empty tank, Aes'ona ordered, "I'll need that filled with the freshest bacta we have. Get me a few yards of synthskin, too."

A chorus of 'yes, doctor's followed before the nurses hurried to get to work. Aes'ona did too, but rushing into the prep room to tie up her hair, wash her hands plus forearms, and put on her surgical gloves and face mask.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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Cedric was growing addicted to this high.

It seemed his lot in life was to suffer grievously in service to the force; it was a role he was happy to fulfill. He had lingered on the edge of death's door many times in this year alone, and the terror that accompanied such experiences had almost dulled in a sense. Each time his spirit was coaxed from his physical form, he found himself calling upon the memories of times in which he was truly happy. Such memories helped him to cling to the mortal realm, and help usually arrived shortly thereafter. They were humbling experiences, and he understood that his life was truly in the hands of the force. It had brought the stormtroopers to his location, after all.

Even still, the corridors of his mind were as much as prison as they were an escape from the trials of mortality. He could only make out vague images of what was transpiring around him, and if he focused to much on those sensation the pain of his injuries threatened to seep through; pain he would much rather avoid. The Jedi Master could only watch from the cage of his own psyche as the stormtroopers hissed the speeder into the open hanger of the hospital. The light filled him as it always had, but even its energies could only sustain him for so long. The force was limitless; his ability to channel it was not.

"This one had a lightsaber," the lead soldier spoke as he wheeled Cedric's inert form out on a repulsor-stretcher. "Killed the beast we've been hearing about I think, but I didn't think we had any Rens in town today."

The soldier fell silent, letting whatever he meant by that statement fall into the ether of interpretation. The medtechs didn't seem all that concerned - they were too busy wheeling Cedric off into the operating room.

He was quite the mess to behold. Two jagged holes had been ripped through his midriff, and the stitching that had been holding his stomach together had been torn apart. How the many's internal organs had not spilled out was anyone's guess. He was otherwise clad in phrik plating from head to toe, and it was adorned with a long dark (and likely in the way) robe of some spiritual origin.

Cedric watched silently from the confines of his mind. He could make out the blurry figure of the doctor, but her features were lost to him.

Best of luck doctor.

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

"Karkin' hell," the doctor muttered before diving into her work. "Help me remove his robe," she ordered a tech before he left. She grasped the so-thought-Ren's shoulders gently but heaved with all her strength. "Careful," she gasped as the tech began removing the cloth stuck underneath the patient's chest. When he was done, Aes'ona set Cedric back down as gently as she could. She stepped back, her smock somehow covered in some blood already, and pointed over to a metal chair. "Put it over there."

She bent down, her attention focused back on the patient and not his important-looking belongings. Stepping forwards again to about just where she had been, she leaned over his forehead to run her gloved fingers into the man's hairline. It didn't take long for her to select one of his dark brown hairs to pull out at the follicle. She quickly smoothed over the spot with her fingers before straightening to hand the DNA sample to one of her attendants. "Get that to the blood synthesizer. I think we'll need ten pints, but take a quick body index scan to make sure.

"And you," she continued, making eye contact with another tech, "help me pry this guy's armor off."

†††

By another miracle, the two-and-a-half-hour surgery was a success. At least currently it seemed to be. Aes'ona had left Cedric suspended in the bacta tank, hooked up to a vitals monitor and a sugar drip. His body was still recovering from the effects of severe blood loss, but his wounds were sufficiently patched. However, they would be quite painful still. Hopefully the anesthesia would help with that, if not just a little.

Somehow, Aes'ona had managed to sear back together all of Cedric's arteries and major veins before restoring his stomach stitching as closely as she could. She then wrapped it in a large swath of synthskin that could be removed later but served as support for now. As for the holes, she had heat-compressed them closed as far as they would go and patched it in a similar way as the abdomen.

All Aes'ona could do now was wait in front of the tank, watching over the various readings. She had changed into her medical uniform, but had forgone the white jacket so that her sleeveless black tank and metal armband could be seen. The armband stated he name and rank; her tank sported the red logos of the First Order and a medical officer below either strap.

 

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Awareness faded as Cedric allowed himself a moment's reprise. As the drugs began to take hold, the Jedi chose to put his faith in the doctor - he could no longer hold on under his own power.

The blackness that followed was dark and formless. It was unalike wandering through the realm of the empyrean, yet he traversed the landscape of his inner consciousness in much the same way. He saw himself as formless darkness within the void of his colorless dreams, and in that moment he understood that there were fates worse than death.

The release from that state came on the brink of madness. It was all Cedric could do to retain a faint sense of calm as his mind was assaulted with hallucinatory nightmares of its own creation. When he finally awoke the flood of sensation was momentarily overwhelming. He reached out instinctively into the empyrean, and felt the familiar presence of the doctor nearby. The realization of her nearness drew him back to logical thinking; if he felt her, then he had survived the operation. He'd been freed from the confines of his mind.

A wave of relief washed over the Jedi Master as his vision drew into focus. He made out the hazy form of the uniformed doctor; his gaze settled upon the all too familiar insignia of the First Order.

A momentary panic dashed away the brief comfort. Memories of time spent within a First Order cell came rushing to the forefront of his mind: then to similar experiences within the clutches of the Sith Empire.

He reached out into the empyrean for guidance, but the drugs still addled his mind. He could only stare blankly out at the doctor, conscious yet inert.

It was only with great concentration that the mentalist managed to establish a faint mental link with the doctor. The voice with which he spoke would ring out within her mind, should she choose to accept the connection.

"Thank you," it sounded like any thought of one's internal monologue, "You've sent a sample of my DNA to your database during the operation - that is standard procedure yes? If you wish to truly save my life doctor, then I ask that you wipe that record before it can be seen by your superiors. I can explain more once I'm out of this tank. Maintaining a con-..."

The voice would fade, and Cedric's brow furrowed with visible strain.

"Please."

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

A sudden headache. Aes'ona put her palm up to her temple, the relative cold of her bare skin that would normally help relieve the pain doing nothing now. Unwittingly, she had accepted the connection.

"You've sent a sample of my DNA to your database during the operation - that is standard procedure yes? If you wish to truly save my life doctor, then I ask that you wipe that record before it can be seen by your superiors. I can explain more once I'm out of this tank. Maintaining a con-..."

The doctor stumbled back but managed to remain upright. The endless waking hours had finally caught up to her for once in her life. "What in--?" she began, but cut herself off when she looked up to see that her patient's facial expression had changed. And they her own internal voice came again, with a strain in it that matched the feeling that the man's furrowed brow conveyed.

She shook her head, unbelieving. She had heard of the Force, mostly of the Dark thanks to her allegiance, but had never felt either Side of it--unknowingly if in fact she had.

Suddenly she felt very faint. You're...no Ren, was her first thought, though it wasn't a purposeful attempt to communicate back. But then she processed something else in her subconscious; this man was clearly still in pain and needed help to get out. Her oath was more important at that moment than her military position. Aes'ona recovered from her initial shock, turned on her heal and hurried over to the blood synthesizer machine. His sample was still in a vial inserted in the machine to replicate his blood and hadn't been processed into the First Order's medical system yet. With it, she was about to turn back around, but instead paused and stared at the single strand of hair.

No way. I'm going stir-crazy.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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It seemed that luck was on Cedric's side.

His past experience with the First Order had been wholly unpleasant. While he understood that individual beings were complicated individuals and couldn't be grouped as a whole, he still had to admit to himself a quiet expectation of violence from the doctor for no other reason than her allegiance. To not be immediately seen as a hostile entity was an unexpected relief; to have her actually walk off to remove the hair sample was a miracle.

He felt her thought as if it were his own, and for a moment his heart dropped.

One more effort.

"Stir crazy or not, what harm would you be doing in removing it?" Cedric reached out once again into the empyrean, but his words felt as if they were spoken beneath the waves of a great ocean. The effects of the bacta filled his body with a mild euphoria, but it was more of a distracting sensation that made the force flow oddly than something Cedric found pleasant. It was only through sheer force of desperate will that he could still speak to the woman's mind.

And then he couldn't.

The connection receded like a quiet snapping of a cable. There was no pain; only a distinct lack of another in one's own mind, The Jedi's body stirred, his fingers flexing first, then his toes. Slowly, he began to awaken from his self-induced lethargy. Blue eyes sharpened and focused upon the doctor's distant form, and with great effort, he lifted a heavy arm through the blue muck and pointed toward the top of the tank.

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

Something in her possessed her to move over to the metal chair that she had left both her uniform jacket and the Jedi's folded robe on and covered the vial with her article. She turned back to [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s tank upon hearing the beeping vitals of a patient waking from unconsciousness.

Aes'ona rushed over to the tank, stood up on the tiptoes, and pressed a series of buttons to begin the draining process. "Hang on," she cooed as the bacta level began to lower in the tank. "Stand up for me if you can."

When the bacta was almost completely drained, the doctor released and swung open the tank door. She took a step closer, one foot inside and one out, prepared to help the man out and over to the recovery table that the medtechs had wheeled in since surgery. She was not really thinking of how much she really could physically assist a man about five inches taller and fifty-five pounds heavier than her.

 

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He'd always hated bacta tanks.

The Jedi Master settled onto shaky limbs as the tank was slowly drained of the blue liquid. The sound of his own breathing rung in his ears as the tank door was swung open. He regarded the doctor with curious eyes, though he was clearly not entirely there in the moment.

Freed from the constraints of the bacta, Cedric had wasted no time in reaching out to explore the area beyond the room he'd found himself in. As expected, he felt the presence of numerous lifeforms going about their daily business throughout the facility - which meant that the First Order hadn't found out just who he was quite yet. If they had, he had not doubt that he would have been treated in a facility far more secure than this.

With a shaky hand, Cedric reached down and pressed some of his weight onto the doctor's shoulder. He took one wary step, then another, and slowly found his way over to the recovery table.

He finally had a chance to look at himself once he'd settled onto the table. The synthflesh looked as unnatural as it always did - another mass of scars to join an already colored canvas. It was fortunate that the concealer he'd drawn over the tattoo on his right arm had retained itself within the bacta; there would be no hiding his allegiance to the Jedi Order if they saw the star bird he wore proudly upon his flesh.

After a few moments of deep breaths and relative silence, Cedric finally found his voice. "Thank you doctor," it was low and ragged from lack of use, "I would have died if you hadn't stitched me up when you did, and I might have suffered an even worse fate had you left that DNA sample in the registry." Cedric's personality slowly began to return with every word.

His back straightened, and his voice took on a natural confidence that implied he was fully in control of the situation, however false that truly was. Sharp blue eyes narrowed as they regarded the doctor. "Can you tell me where we are? Is this still Atrisia?"

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

For some reason, the little weight that the Jedi put on her shoulder reminded her of her experience on Dagobah during the invasion months ago. It reminded her of the stormtrooper vest she had had to wear, the straps so tight they dug into her shoulders. And, for a moment, the jungle ambush flashed before her eyes. Darkness, thick fog, and, suddenly jarring light. Explosions. Blue blaster bolts flying against the otherwise solemn backdrop.

Fear tore at her heart before Cedric pulling his weight off of her to sit on the table brought her back to reality. She took in the familiar figure before her and the medical environment behind him, but she remained panicked. The man's words started to calm her as she slowly realized where she was and what she was doing. That she was safe.

But really, was she?

It took Aes'ona a few semi-awkward beats to process the question and formulate an answer--as malformed as it was--"...A-atrisia? Atri--yes. Yes, we are. Atrisia. H-hospital." It took another moment for her to feel that her hands were trembling before she could shove them in the pant pockets of her uniform, an action she rarely did although Cedric had no way to know this. Still, maybe it looked a little odd. Forced.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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A momentary confusion flitted across Cedric's features as the doctor recoiled in what looked to be the beginnings of a panic attack. His initial reaction was to reach out a hand to steady the doctor, but he thought better of it. It seemed that he was the source of her terror, and he had a few guesses as to why. Perhaps she had only been acting on instinct in helping him, and now the reality of her decision had come to the forefront of her mind.

Or, as Cedric began to suspect, something darker had momentarily enshrouded her psyche in a truly personal terror. He privately cursed himself for severing the connection before she'd experienced the cause of her anxiety, but there was no doubt that such uneasiness was pouring off of her in waves. He perceived her as pool of shadowy waters within the Great Ocean that was the force, and it made him remain seated on the table.

"Doctor," his voice was low, but warm, "I'm not going to harm you, or anyone on this planet. I killed the beast to end the suffering it caused; I didn't come here to extend it."

His words were true, though he knew that if he was discovered the only way out would be violence. It was the result of the personal enemies he had made in many of the galaxy's imperial upper class. Most men had bitter ex-girlfriends; Cedric left a line of bitter psychopaths and warlords.

"You already helped me - you know it was the right thing to do." He added as he reached out into the empyrean, and urged what he envisioned to be calming waters to flow within the shadowy murk that was Aes'ona's presence.

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

Only about half--the latter half--of [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s comforting affirmation reached Aes'ona's ears. Instead of listening to him, she was focusing on deep breathing. Deep inhale; slow exhale. Once, twice, was enough to make her mindful again of Cedric's words. Only after hearing his final addition did she nod, how ever slowly.

Before she could get out a word of reply, more pleasant memories swarmed the doctor mind in a jumbled but calming mess. Somehow she knew that the man had some part to play in this duller headache, too, because not one of the calming methods that she had been taught had done that before. It was as if she was lighter, like the pain had been altogether lifted from her, not just momentarily suppressed.

And just like that, the euphoria was gone. The presence of the Dagobah experience was back but hidden far away from her. The feeling had left her spirit cleaner than it had found it, but also, something else was left clearer to her. Her reasoning. Now, absent of the dense and obscuring fog fear, she suddenly understood her nonsensical actions of moments before.

Aes'ona repeated the motion of holding her temple but with only two fingers this time. She wasn't used to feeling the Force and she had evidently been rendered susceptible to fear since her last and first combat mission. After the doctor had rubbed out most of the discomfort in her head, she dropped her hand from her face but didn't say anything serious for quite some time, unsure what to say or do now.

Finally, she settled on saying, "Thank you." A smaller pause to think and realize that she needed to elaborate. "For ending this calamity." Not for whatever you did to me, she added in her mind. She was, to an extent, grateful for the result, but it was quite too invasive for her liking.

 

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Sobriety was a cruel mistress. As the effects of the bacta faded, so too did his awareness steadily return. With that awareness came the force, and it told him that he was in situation of powerlessness for the moment. His body was still weak, and his wounds could be reopened should he engage in any sort of acrobatics. For the moment, his only option was to rely on the doctor, and he put his entire mind to the task.

"It was my responsibility. My father created it," he chose to simply be honest - part of it might have been the bacta. "I'm sorry if the mental intrusion was unpleasant. My abilities are far more refined when I'm not high on painkillers," he added, a ghost of an attempt at humor hidden in his words. Cedric fell silent for a moment, and glanced around the room. He drew in a deep breath, exhaled.

"I was afraid you would get frightened and turn me in. I think I was wrong."

The woman's voice reminded him of a particular Echani girl, and a brief wave of nostalgia washed over the Jedi. It was a short lived story that had not ended very well, and recalling those final events made him uneasy.

Forcing away such thoughts, Cedric turned his mind to plans of escape.

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

"You're quite lucky I was alone," Aes'ona admitted. "If I wasn't, I would've had no choice." Not that she would have wanted to--no. She did plenty that she technically wasn't supposed to provided she was either alone or surrounded by those she trusted, from secretly treating aliens when she was only a simple physician back on FIMS Mountbatten to her stunt on the jungle world to, well, to this. Her most glaring slight yet.

Aes'ona resolved not to think of the possible repercussions for this venture. In fact, she was plenty frightened, just maybe not frightened enough. Though, in any case, her imagination ran wild as to what the stormtroopers might do to their apparent savior that she had just healed. Or tried to.

It seemed wrong.

Aes'ona shook those thought out of her head as well to point where his robe and the warped remnants of his armor was. "I can try to have it hammered out if you would like," she offered.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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He believed her.

Cedric decided to set aside his prejudices regarding the order when it came to the doctor. In a sense, it was somewhat uplifting to see a decent soul amidst the crazier individuals. Even still, it would not do to remain here much longer and put the doctor at risk.

"I'd take you up on that offer, but I need to leave before anyone catches on." He was half in the conversation, and half lost within the empyrean. The latter side of his mind explored the walls and hallways around them: it began to formulate a path outward.

Cedric rose onto his feet, and a shock of pain fired through his midriff. It was astonishing enough to send him back onto the table for a moment, chest heaving quietly as he willed the pain away.

"I just need a few moments to focus on the force. Fix myself."

He cursed himself for his inability to simply seal his wounds as other Jedi could. Minor wounds were not beyond him, but his body needed time to heal from a gash such as this.

Shab.

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

The doctor was just about to respond when Cedric's attempt to stand proved a failure and she rushed over to his side. She quickly glanced over her handiwork as he spoke, making sure it all had stayed intact. "I don't care who you are or what you can do," she began in a hushed but firm tone, "but you'll need more than a few moments."

She tried to help him to lay flat again if he would let her. She did not know what her opinion of Force healing was...at least of the physical, not the mental. She had not gotten to see much of the former from the Force-sensitive intern she had hired quietly onto Mountbatten years ago. The latter seemed to work well enough as she was demonstrated.

Aes'ona withdrew away to a medical console, brought up the unfinished file devoted to the case of [member="Cedric Grayson"] and began to embellish. The two most viable lies were that the patient either died or was something of a lone Ren who had santered of without giving his name.

 

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Cedric parted his lips to protest, but seemed to think better of it. He complied with the doctor and lay flat on the table, a hand outstretched for his robe. The black cloth flew into his outstretched hand, and he drew it about his pale form to preserve some level of decency.

"I'd be foolish to think I know more about this than you do," he admitted, breathing a quiet sigh as he accepted his fate for the time being. Even if the doctor decided to change her mind, she'd already gone to certain lengths to help him. As far as he could tell, the woman was not unintelligent - she wouldn't put herself at risk, and truthfully he doubted her mind would shift anyway. He allowed himself a moment's comfort: content in knowing that at least for a short amount of time he could rest.

Momentarily curious, he reached out once more into the empyrean to inspect the doctor's presence, though he did not intrude upon her mind. Unsurprisingly he felt nothing by way of a powerful connection to the force; the sagely abilities he'd inherited from his progenitor's did allow him to read the waters of a murky possible future however.

It was one of quiet importance: a subtle and obscure destiny that would be wrought with trials and tribulations.
Idle curiosity blossomed into genuine interest, and Cedric allowed himself to sit up somewhat to look at the doctor.

"Why are you with the order?" He asked after he was sure they were completely alone, "You don't seem like their type."

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

At first, Aes'ona didn't glance up from the console screen. "I want peace, just like you," she said. Who he was was still mostly a mystery to her, but she assumed that he too strove for peace in one way or another. After all, he had just secured it on this planet from the Sithspawn.

"I'm told that somewhat often," she added, mumbling slightly. "You're thinking of a stereotype and I find it quite offensive that apparently I have to fit into it."

Aes'ona had settled on death for the make-believe [member="Cedric Grayson"]; when she submitted the report, he would have succumbed to his wounds as far as the First Order was concerned. Fewer questions that way, either to her directly or those that might reach the Knights of Ren, but escape would prove much more difficult.

A bridge to cross once Cedric could stand long enough to walk.

 

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"I can respect that," Cedric replied sympathetically. His inflection was not accusatory in nature, but rather of genuine curiosity. He'd truthfully never had the chance to pick the brain of any First Order loyalists that hadn't found a way to morally justify executing prisoners of war. The Jedi had never been so close minded as to think the entirety of the order thought that way, but one's opinions were never truly real until they could be validated in the flesh.

"I'm not trying to stereotype, I'm -" he paused as he found himself going down the road of a deeper discussion than was likely appropriate. Instead, he expelled a quiet sigh, and shook his head.

"Can I have your name?" A question he only half expected an answer to. "Unless you just prefer doctor."

It seemed he was spending more time in the company of his supposed enemies than his peers these days.

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

"I'm Aes'ona," she replied, feeling somewhat guilty for her stereotyping comment. Her instinct had been to defend herself and her loyalty from what was initially perceived as the beginning of a personal attack. "I-I'm sorry. No, I know you weren't." Truly, she understood the curiosity or thought that she did. Over the relatively short span of her position as the Sixth Fleet medical adjunct, she had met with many doctors as well as interrogators. The former often refused to treat wounded prisoners of war and the latter would stop at nothing to extract information from them, even and sometimes especially if the process killed the 'scum'. By way of direct confrontation, Aes'ona hadn't made many such people her friends, but she had saved dozens of First Order enemies.

Still, Aes'ona sometimes had difficulty convincing herself that what would likely be a lifetime in captivity was better than fading away, however painful that might be.

"You could have easily met an, uh, less-lenient First Imperial," she added, intending the contrast to be herself.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]