Private Roads To Burn

[Irveric Tavlar]

The sights of the medical post were ever the more foreboding. Tavlar wouldn't be able to draw reprieve from anything on this rock any longer. Whilst he was hear he had a duty to fulfill, a bloodied one at that as these insurgencies tended to be. Though none of this would ever carry a shred of the weight that the wars of past did it was still hard fighting.

Standing upright to leave bed space for his injured troopers Tavlar slumped against a wall as a bandage was slowly and meticulously wrapped about his head from the bloodied bruising and lacerations left in the wake of the ever daring clone's blunt force aggression. Even an hour or so after the assault his ears still rung violently from the blows, his head and temple almost thumping from the rattling it put on his brainpan. He needed more than the bandage but there wasn't all too much to spare as each hospice bed was occupied with one of his bleeding and wounded comrades, many of them barking and yelping out in pain before a jolt of anesthesia coursed their veins, knocking them out cold.

Eventually The Major could put both feet under himself, almost stumbling to the floor when he walks forward. Concussed, and not faintly either. His eyes scanned the room with furrowed brow, peering over any of the faces he recognized along the hospice beds, picking out the newer Troopers from them before he'd make way to Leftenant Voi'Kryt's hospice not long after she jolted awake, invigorated by the cold paranoia of medical equipment and droids surrounding her.

With slow steps he peered over the Leftenant with narrowed eyes. It was grisly sight more than anything. She arrived a clean cut, wide eyed graduate of the academy and within a planet's cycle she was ripped to shreds. In a way it was more painful to view than any of the other Legionaries lining the hospice, some with missing limbs or intense blaster burns. He could see a great deal of himself and his own nature in her which he couldn't in the others. Afterall they had the very same occupation at the same age however, whilst many were slain around him on his first deployment he made it off relatively clean where as her, didn't take all but a day before she was baptised in fire.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Lyra liked to pride herself on her rationality, blind tantrum and excessive display of emotions had been left at the doors of Officer academy afterall. She had been a little spit fire of a thing once, but instead of falling to distress and lashing out she shut her eyes. The influx of noise of staff and wounded was nauseating. They had been sent to supplement the losses not add to them..Her own pain was manageable and that was kindly stating it, her face screwed and she regretted it. Stitches threatened to pull apart and she released a hard breath. She figured quickly that part of her scalp now was shaved but didn't pick at the bandages. Lyra had tried to retrace her steps that had lead her here; there was only snippets left. Mines..had there been an IED on the road in? When she had steadied herself and her breath, she opened her eyes though they felt heavier than lead. There was the man standing at the end of the bed, and it took a long hard look before she recognized her superior.

"Sir," her voice was rough, her mouth felt like cotton. Lyra offering him a partial salute, though she couldn't help but stare at his own wounds."What happened..sir?"

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

With Lyra's condition largely stabilized the Medical droids drew their attention to more pressing needs, leaving Tavlar to draw the curtain around her bed even if it was a futile attention to dim the noise of sawing and tight, precise mechanics of the medical droids which barely whined over the screeching pain of the men and women they performed on. Kneeling down beside the bed he motioned a hand for his Leftenant to calm herself and lay back down.

"Shhh...shhh calm down, I'll be just fine. As far as you go I don't know exactly what occured if I'm honest this is the first I'm seeing of you. The footage is being reviewed now but I see everything where it's supposed to be so I'd not lose sleep, Leftenant." Tavlar said, giving her another once over. She recieved a great deal of punishment to the face but even beneath the bloodied stitches and bandaging she was intact. "I'd imagine they'll pull you off the front, maybe even off planet soon enough but we'll see what they need for the next offensive..." Tavlar says, speaking with a stoic tinge to his voice.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

“I think I’ve had plenty of sleep at this rate..” She muttered, pointedly ignoring the open noises of surgery and electrical saws renewing the pointed noise between her ears. Weighting his words, her heart plummeted at thought of already being taken off world. They had said Irveric Tavlar was a man made of stern shavit, they being the deployment crew but the same could be said for the lot of commanding officers but after reading his profile..Lyra was taken aback by the man at her bedside.

Gentle wasn’t appropriate so she settled for eye of the storm-calm in the chaos..Lyra felt a wave of respect wash over her. She dropped her hand, almost hesitant as she eased back down into the bed, trading looks to his bandages and the curtain shielding them. The Major was ‘standing’ at least, and she pulled her good leg up. Nodding a bit slowly toward the empty space-an invitation to sit comfortably; he still had his own wounds. She considered summoning a medical droid for the man, but couldn't spot one off the back.

“I don’t try to make it a habit of getting blown up first hour in to the job, sir...the escort in with the Claymores, we were attacked then I assume..?” Lyra paused, winded already. She tasted iron and swallowed thickly, putting on a passive face. “Give me one standard day to get my bearings, Major. I can manage my work from the back, taking me off world is excessive. I’m alive, I am able.”

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

"Sleep is not all there is to recovery, the Medical droids have yet to run a diagnostic on your condition..." Tavlar retorts. That's something he would've said, fresh from the academy and eager to carve a legacy. Now? Any sliver of a second of rest was something worth killing for. A soldier could never get enough sleep. When she offered a spot on her bed he waved a hand dismissively. Something she was due to learn was that an Officer has to maintain a certain air about himself. Contempt for pain, danger and truly any sign of exhaustion had to be exhibited. It was more reassuring for a trooper to see their officer standing upright, ignorant of the bloodied bandage wrapped around his head rather than it was to see him hunched over, groveling in pain.

"Your section was detected and routed out by the clones, taking advantage of their disorganization I conducted a counter-offensive which later turned into a greater assault, allowing us to secure the settlement. Though there are still roaches hiding in their lairs here, the city is all but reoccupied and a transmission stating such has already been sent to command, we merely await further orders." Tavlar states rather coldly to her before letting off a sigh, offering a visual appraisal of her state once more. "As for you...it will be what the needs of the Imperial Armed Forces, I will follow the Sergeant-Medic's judgement after your diagnostic is complete."

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

“All the more reason for me to stay..clearly we can’t afford any sign of weakness,” Lyra mused mostly to herself. It had been a bit much-to personal even offering him a seat but she felt the situation was lax in the face of carnage. Mulling over his words for several minutes after, shifting uncomfortably in the cot. Lyra hailed down one of the medics through the chaos, requesting a diagnostic from the primary care droid. There was regard to the presence of the Major and post-haste was applied.

Lyra had nothing else to do but prove her capability, how long had she been here? She couldn’t underestimate her injuries but this was a terrible first impression..The longer she thought and battled the sharp pain ebbing at her temple. Lyra caught her clock set aside on the bed table among other personal items pulled from her in delivery to the medicenter..Reaching over she seized the time piece with abit struggle.

“Apologies, sir..I am confused. How were we detected, we technically dropped behind our lines? We weren’t near the city, and without the replacements your fighting numbers..how did you take the city..” Lyra tried to reason, releasing another harsh breath. Her chest burned as if she had ran a mile. She could only remember space transit leading up to deployment clearly and she stared at the clock. It was covered in dried blood, it was easy to guess it was her own. The screen read near three standard days forward and she discarded the watch in her lap. The numbers didn’t add up and she tried to address the Major but fell short there after, her jaw clenched tightly as an uneasy feeling bubbled in her chest. Something didn’t add up and she screwed her lips together in a thin frown. There was no reason to panic, not at all she told herself.

The curtains moved as a Medical Droid chose an opportune moment to join them, inserting itself into the conversation. Lyra in her mounting confusion ignoring the words it spouted off. The injuries she had sustained and treatment recommendations, recovery time..There was a TBI caused by a fracture to the skull, shrapnel wounds, fractured collar bone, three broken ribs, lacerations to spleen..

“Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Traumatic injuries suffered to the cranium sometimes include memory loss. If swelling persists, surgery will be required to reduce pressure. Symptoms will include..”

“That’s enough!” Lyra coughed, a bit forceful as she cut the droid off. Her shoulders shook and she sucked in several deep breaths, so much for losing sleep.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

The more he heard her speak, the more concerned he grew, drawing a cringe along his lips as he shook his head. She had sustained much more damage than he anticipated. With a wave of his hand Tavlar motioned over a comms officer who'd been collecting data from the helmet heads up displays of the injured Legionnaires.

"Sir?" He asked, standing at attention to the Major.

Offering another glance of deep concern and worry to his Leftenant he'd then turn to speak with the comms officer. "Transmission to system command, request for Leftenant Lyra Voi'Kryt to be temporarily place on leave from command to recover from her wounds..."

"As you wish..." The comms officer answered, obliging as he left the chaotic fervor of the medical bay send the message.

"I can't have you here in this state, I simply can not. You need a full diagnostic and evaluation and likely treatments for your wounds, am I understood Leftenant?" Tavlar asked, though it was far less of a question than it was an order, speaking coldly to her.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

“Sir..yes sir” Lyra had wanted to push, digging her nails in to the standard issue blanket-still reeling. She stared at the Major for a long minute, the look in her eye said but she tore her gaze away, as if it would do any good. Speaking with a clipped voice, “I’ll rest then if you don’t mind, Sir.”

The Major had become an entirely different man in a span of seconds, and she had no other choice but to comply. To be caught in disagreement, let alone trying to brook an argument would be worse. Shutting her eyes, despite her own distress Lyra kept her mouth clamped and settled back; numb. A cold feeling settled itself in her chest and she dismissed the the Medical Droid with an angry mutter; refusing another dosage of morphine. The reality of her own mortality frayed at her nerves, a disgusting stain to begin her own career. She did not want to consider the fact this might be the very end of it.

In the following days while transport was arranged, she maintained the short disposition with any and all she was forced to deal with. Weathering the waves of panic and sheer mania of no purpose out. The Sergeant-Medic had been her next attempt, trying to understand what was to come of her. Lyra would have chosen an uphill battle, but recovery and the risk of her health..faltering further; that produced a true fear and helplessness in her. The base moved on, and she remained confined to bed. Forced to watch as others came and went, some dying from their wounds and others released. There were some would were no better off then herself, the crippling injuries; she pitied those soldiers.

Lyra didn’t pity herself, she was just angry. Picking up upon hints of the battle from personnel through vague conversation, all of it was of little use. The main firefight that had ensued under Tavlar’s charge had shed more light on the man he was. This wasn't their first meeting she discovered..Lyra battled the confusion and settled on indifference toward him with nothing else to go on but that days in the Mediccenter. When she was shipped offworld, a datapad was procured and broken recordings reviewed Just before she had been carted off, the sight of the main yard of base camp had brought an inkling of familiarity. It had been a start. Later she had gotten her hands on the official report, Sergeant Trepol had written it in her stead. Notes about Privates Forleac and Appw’rii whom both would make full recoveries in time. As a commander, she hadn’t gotten anyone killed at least. Off world, surgery preparations and tests followed, it was all cold cut and clean. She forced herself to follow the Doctor’s plans, offering only a hint of interest and roll with the hits.

She had developed a startling hyper fixation on recordings and reviewed each retrieved HUD recording, wasting hours going over the videos. There were only a handful of minutes preserved from her HUD, and most of it distorted. The Private Appw’rii’s recording had to be relied on, and it was alien to watch herself make contact in the fire fight. She had stopped to drag the woman back, then someone stepped in..She had replayed that clip several times, laying return fire just before the missile landed. She had screamed, or someone had screamed. Lyra ought to have been dead right now, she didn’t sleep much after that. She had wanted to wretch when she saw her helmet.

Lyra saved that report, and clips to her personal files. Weeks later, between surgery and entering PT, some things returned. The main command center, she could recall in vague concept but she still didn’t have a scrap of recognition of the combat excursion. They day they had her up and walking, Lyra made a point of leaving any residue feelings with the broken videos in the data bank. Any discussion of it was methodical and spoken with great distance.