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“General Skywalker, come in.” Cody’s eyes don’t move from Obi-Wan as he speaks, barely even willing to move his hand from his general’s shoulder to activate his comm. But he knows how this needs to proceed, and allowing his emotions to override his ability to do his job won’t do any of them any good.
A moment later, Cody’s comm crackles. “What do you have for me, Commander?”
“We have General Kenobi, sir. We’re preparing for extraction now.” Cody takes a deep breath in, and feels his heart thrumming in his chest, hears it like war drums within his ears. “We’ll need air support at our location, and an escort to the Negotiator .”
“On it,” General Skywalker says. And then a moment of hesitation later, the comm crackles again. “How’s he doing, Cody?”
Cody’s lips curl back as at that very moment he watches as Kix and his team maneuver a pelvic binder under General Kenobi; the sight alone isn’t what makes the bottom of his stomach drop out. No -- it’s the breathless gasps and groans his general is unable to hold back, slipping out from behind clenched and bloodied teeth.
Cody waits the few moments for the medics to finish their task, and for the noise to drop away before answering.
“He’s alive. Kix has the medbay ready to receive incoming, and is sending the preliminary details to the trauma team now.”
“Alright.” General Skywalker’s voice cracks a little, obviously picking up on the lack of details or reassurance. “Okay -- yeah. Copy that. Air support ETA in five minutes, Commander.”
“We’ll be ready, sir,” Cody says, finally stepping back and away from Obi-Wan as the medics motion for the halves of a stretcher to be placed on either side of Obi-Wan’s form.
“Bring him home, Cody.”
It isn’t a command, nor is Skywalker’s tone demanding. They’re all too exhausted, caught between the sleepless nights and non-stop search, all of the 212th and 501st moving as a single-minded unit; there has been no room for ego or in-fighting, not when their goal has been so singular: find General Kenobi, and get him out of enemy hands.
Watching Kix take over from one of the less experienced medics to successfully get a trauma line in, his face determined and focused, Cody nods once sharply to himself.
“We will. See you on the Negotiator , sir,” he says.
As he deactivates the comm call, Kix looks up and meets his eyes. “He’s as stable as he’ll get down here, Commander. Let’s get him off of this rock; the two hundred and twelfth’s trauma team is meeting us in the hangar.”
“Good,” Cody says, and hefts his blaster to cradle in his hands, wishing he could hold one of Obi-Wan’s instead. Taking point, and feeling determination burn in his chest as the medics lift the stretcher with the general between them, Cody motions his troops toward their transport. “We’re in the air in two minutes -- let’s move.”
Cody lets his mind settle into the flash-trained pathways burned into his brain; it’s like a ground transport falling into well-worn grooves, guiding it’s direction without effort. They’ll get his general home, and he can worry about the rest then.
