Private Only The Good (Almost) Die Young

[Okkeus Dainlei]

Ithor
Following the events of You’re Invited ​

The last thing he remembered was the beeping of the warning alarms.

His X-Wing, Thunderstruck, had abruptly excited hyperspace for unknown reasons. On top of this, the ship seemed to be dead in the water. No power, no function systems, no nothing. To make matters even worse, the planet of Ithor was slowly pulling down his ship with its gravity.

Falling into a violent fall, he tried to regain control of the ship. But by the time he got the power back online, he was crashing through thick sections of forest.

The crash was almost fatal. It about tore the ship in multiple pieces. Looking up he saw blood decorating the control panel, and smoke coming from it. He was in immense pain, and he wasn’t even able to tend to his injuries. The Jedi was grounded and badly hurt.

With all of his remaining strength, he lifted his robotic left arm. Lifting his hand over the control panel, he pressed the emergency beacon built inside of the ship. Quickly he tried to send out a message.

“Help. Plea...”

Before he could finish the message, the Jedi passed out in the ship. Hopefully the message would reach someone, and fast.

Julian Qar

 

[Julian Qar]

Okkeus Dainlei​

The evening's quiet would soon come to a halt when the small communications droid found its mark. Slowly it aligned itself with the pulsating comlink adhered to the man’s skull, transmitting its first message to the slumbering cyborg. “Dr. Qar. Incoming message from a one Jacqueline Krushatt.”

“Hnnnn gimmie five more minutes would ya In-...Wait Jack's calling? Shi-” His words were cut short when the message finally became clear and he could hear the woman's raspy voice through the line.

“Doc, get up - we got a distress signal from Ithor. I’m suiting up and heading out with a small team and could use a hand.” The doctor offered her a quiet yawn, rubbing his eye as he regained his bearings to answer her as well as he could. “I'll be there in jus a few - meet ya on base...” He whispered, hoping his voice wouldn’t carry and wake his partner as he pulled himself out of bed and got suited for this impromptu rescue mission.

+++​

The terrain that surrounded Ithor and the crash site was unknown to them. They were thankful that the tracking modules had led them to the right place despite the conditions the X-wing had been left in. “Fan out -” Julian piped up, signaling for the crew to split up, Krushatt and Hazel were not far behind him. “Check for any other survivors, I think we might only have one but just check the area to make sure.” Slowly the medics climbed over the wreckage, pushing aside pieces of the X-wing that had obstructed their path to the devastation that was the cockpit. That’s when they saw him, unresponsive and covered in a cloak of his own blood. “We got one, bring the gurney to my position,” Julian ordered through his comlink, gripping a piece that had fallen on the pilot, hoisting it off the man’s body as carefully as he could. “Hello? Hello, sir can you hear me?" He followed through with his script, making sure his presence was known before starting on any procedure. "Sir, my name is Doctor Julian Qar, I am here to help you. Can you hear me?” He lowered himself beside the pilot, securing mock digits around his wrist, checking for a pulse, and running diagnostics.

He was alive, now it was only a matter of moments before he got a read on his condition.

​

 

[Okkeus Dainlei]

He could hear people nearby and moving around him, yet he couldn’t see them.

With some of his remaining strength he tried to lift his head, but it wouldn’t move. His entire body was sore and hurting. Many scrapes covered his body as well, slowly leaking out blood. Fading in and out of consciousness didn’t help either.

A small amount of pain was lifted from his back. Someone must have moved wreckage off of him. There was a person standing right next to him, yet when they talked they sound really far away.

“Hello?”

The words left his mouth, yet he wasn’t sure how loud. Everything hurt, and even trying to speak was painful. He would need medical attention, and somewhat fast. Collecting all of the strength he had left, he tried to get out a few more words.

“Arm. My arm.”

If the person could hear him, hopefully they could access his robotic left arm. There they could see his medical signs, and what was broken or bruised. That would at least help him a little hit. At least he hoped it would.

Julian Qar