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Thorn had never been more grateful for his bucket. Sure, it was heavy and often uncomfortably hot, but at least it made it impossible to see how nervous he was right now. He was standing at parade rest in front of Marshal Commander Fox’s desk, waiting for him to look up from his datapad, and according to the chrono on the wall, it had already been nearly eleven minutes.
It was getting harder not to fidget. Under normal circumstances, Thorn wouldn’t have considered eleven minutes very long at all, but these were not normal circumstances. This was Thorn’s first time meeting his new commander, and he was petrified. Back on Kamino, Fox had gained a reputation as one of the smartest and deadliest of the commander class, and Thorn had always wanted to meet him. He’d trained hard in the hope that he’d be assigned to work close to Fox, and when he’d received his assignment it’d seemed almost too good to be true.
He’d spent the entire day going over what he would say and trying to imagine what Fox would be like in person. Would he be stern? Serious? Thorn rather thought there would be a fire behind Fox’s eyes and a ring to his voice. And likely, he’d thought, Fox would be taciturn. A man of few words, but each of those words filled with meaning.
So far, the only thing Thorn had been able to deduce was that Fox was, in fact, taciturn. He’d barely looked up when Thorn entered, and he hadn’t even give him permission to stand at ease or remove his bucket. All he’d said was “just a moment” before looking back down at his datapad. He was helmeted, too, something that struck Thorn as odd and made it impossible to get an idea of what he was like.
Thorn gave in and wiggled one of his fingers, then another. How long did it take the commander to read one screen’s worth of information? He hadn’t scrolled on it since Thorn had arrived.
Suddenly, Fox slumped forward and his helmet hit the desk with a bang.
“Sir!”
Thorn leapt forward, his heart in his throat. Blaster out and raised, he looked around quickly for the source of the shot before realizing that there were no windows in the office, no holes in Fox’s armor, and therefore, there hadn’t been any shot.
Lowering his blaster, Thorn tried to steady his breathing. Okay, no shot, so Fox wasn’t dead or dying, at least. Thank the maker. Though - something was obviously wrong. Panic shot through Thorn again as he realized Fox still hadn’t moved. Was there something wrong with the filtration system in his helmet? Such a thing was practically unheard of, but if that was actually what was going on, Fox could be suffocating in front of his eyes.
Hurrying behind the desk, Thorn fumbled with the clasps on Fox’s helmet for a moment before finally getting the seal to break. He pulled Fox into a sitting position and yanked the helmet off of his head.
Fox’s eyes were closed, but at least he was breathing.
“Kriffing hell,” Thorn said, loudly. “Nine kriffing hells.”
He leaned against the desk and removed his own bucket, rubbing his hand over his eyes. Adrenaline was still coursing through him. He’d been prepared for hundreds, if not thousands, of different situations he might encounter on the field, but no one had thought to train him on what to do if his commanding officer passed out in his own office for no apparent reason. There wasn’t even a medic around.
Thorn looked at Fox again, noticing that his mouth had fallen slightly open and he appeared to be drooling. Okay - that was weird. There was no way Fox was asleep; he’d have woken up by now with the way Thorn had jerked him around. Unless -
“Dammit,” Thorn said, jumping up and running to the door. He looked wildly up and down the hallway; thankfully, a trooper was in sight. “You there! Get a medic right kriffing now!” he shouted.
The trooper stared. “Sir?”
“Commander Fox has been poisoned,” Thorn said, trying to keep his voice level. It wouldn’t do any good to lose his temper, even if some di’kutla trooper was wasting time asking questions. “Move it, trooper!”
“Yessir!”
The trooper took off running. Thorn heaved a sigh of relief and went back to Fox’s side, checking again that the unresponsive clone was still breathing normally. Once that was taken care of, he turned his attention to Fox’s desk. If he could find the poison, the medics could administer an antidote that much faster.
Among the piles of flimsi and datapads, Thorn found a mug half-full of cold caf. He peered at it closely. It looked fine, but then again, someone as intelligent as Fox wouldn’t have drunk it if something was outwardly wrong.
“I take it you’re Commander Thorn?”
Thorn turned sharply. A trooper with the medic’s insignia on his shoulder stood in the doorway.
“I am. You mind hurrying? I think I’ve found what he was poisoned with.”
Much to Thorn’s irritation, the medic just smiled and, moving forward, took the mug out of Thorn’s hand.
“This is it, alright, but there’s no poison in the caf. Just sedatives.”
Huh? Thorn stared, his mind racing to try and comprehend what he’d just heard.
“Care to explain yourself, trooper?”
“Sure,” the medic said, completely unbothered, and set the mug down again. “This is all stuff you’d have to learn anyways. See, the marshal commander doesn’t take care of himself very well, so when he starts getting really bad, we get someone to slip a mild sedative in his caf so he’ll get some sleep for once.”
Thorn felt a headache coming on.
“You’re telling me that medics around here sedate the marshal commander against his will on a regular basis?”
“Well, yeah,” the medic said. “Though it’s usually the regular officers who do the sedating. It’s comes down to who can get the closest to his caf without making him suspicious.”
Wait a minute. “That doesn’t extend to me, does it?”
“Sure does.”
Thorn groaned and slumped against the desk. He really hadn’t signed up for this - well, he hadn’t signed up for anything, but if he’d had the option, he wouldn’t have chosen this.
“You’ll get used to it,” the medic said cheerfully, thumping Thorn on the back. “The name’s Bracer, by the way. You and I are going to be working together a lot.”