Chapter Text
Arlon 7 was a miserable mudball of a planet. It rained most of the year, meaning the landmass was mostly mud and slick rocks. There was little vegetation, and quite frankly, little population. What was there was mostly mining operations and a couple of refinery factories for multiple minerals and gems, but quite frankly nobody wanted to be there. Especially the GAR, because of course, the Separatists had tried to capture the mining world.
Really, for just wanting to leave the Republic, they were truly dedicated to the terrorist bit. As for why Teya and Pana are there, it's simple.
Deployment.
Previously, the Senate hadn't sent the Jedi Healers to the front lines. They were under the assumption that Healers couldn't and didn't fight. But resources were strained, and the forces of the army scattered. So now they are using everything available. Teya wasn't sure how to feel about basically being a stand in for medical equipment and resources. It seemed that those in the Senate who knew about Force Healing were under the assumption it was either a magical fix all or some hand wavy made up thing.
Both were equally insulting.
So the Senate War Committee opted to send Healer Teya Mi'tarni and their Padawan Pana Kinall along with half the requested supplies. With the justification being their specialization in triage and emergency response. Teya really wished they still got the full delivery of supplies, force use wasn't a not an exhaustive resource.
From the copilot's seat, Pana was frowning as they read through the mission reports. Trying to gauge the injuries they'd face and making a list of priorities, small claws tapping at the datapad as the Tamakiri was deep in concentration. A second pad balanced on their knee, occasionally, the Padawan sent data over to it with a sigh.
Teya returned their attention back to the ship, transmitting the clearance codes to land among the other shuttles. The Starbright landed with a hiss, settling onto the temporary landing platform. A tiny, barely noticeable splash as the landing gear settled into the massive puddle it had become.
"Ready?" They asked, standing and drawing their cloak over their shoulders. The smaller Jedi nodded, slipping off the seat and picking up their medkit. The faux leather bag practically jangled from all the charms attached to it, the same constructs as Pana's earrings and tail chains. Teya's own pack was much larger, sitting easily over their shoulders, filled with their personal tools and supplies.
At the ramp, the pair were met by a small squad, who honestly looked miserable as one could be completely covered in (somewhat muddy) wet white armor. Praise the Force it wasn't currently raining.
"All the crates are for the medical." Teya directed. "The largest are refrigerated units. They do all float, so don't worry about carrying them. Can you point us to where the medtent is?" It was several years of padawanship that the Laighcore didn't even flick an ear as Pana lept to perch on top of their pack, the mud outside of the landing pad was thick, high enough it reached the troopers thighs. Teya wouldn't begrudge the younger not wanting to sink in the muck. Getting mud out of fur was a pain in the ass.
The troopers however, seemed surprised. All but one were unmarked, the leader of the group was painted in a blocky, simple gold pattern. 212th then. He nodded, and with a sharp "Yes, sir!" And led the way through the camp. The camp itself was large and well organized. Troopers milled about, either doing tasks, or enjoying the brief sunshine. But even the brief respite wasn't enough to bring joy to the encampment. The environment was more than enough of a dampener. Really, they didn't need an escort. Both Healers could find a medbay blindfolded and lost. But it calmed the soldiers' nerves.
The medtent was a temporary structure of metal and canvas. And noisy. Slipping in it was loud both in the Force and physically. Gurneys were filled with injured soldiers. Medics bustled about, and the walking wounded were sitting in chairs, the floor, and on crates, waiting to be helped. A recent battle then.
Teya felt Pana slip to the ground. "I'm going to help with those hurt in the blast." An exploded walker had injured many, and Pana was always certain of where they were needed. Where they were going. And in a blink, Pana was gone, vanished into the depths of the tent. Their small stature couldn't be seen over the beds.
The next few hours passed in a blur. More injured were carried in, those who could leave left the tent, sometimes limping or supported by others. Many were surprised to see another Jedi and Teya worked hard to calm and heal those they could. Much of their duties were relegated to easing pain that painkillers couldn't be wasted on. Sealing wounds, setting breaks. It was triage work. Those who weren't close to death from their injuries had to wait.
There were times the pair crossed paths. Either briefly or leaning together over a particularly bad wound. Pooling their strength to save all they could.
And sometimes, there was nothing they could do except soothe the passing into the Force. During all of this Teya noticed a few things: the Clone Medics were efficient and strategic (both had let the CMO direct them, a stern exhausted looking clone with geometric gold and black tattoos crawling up his neck named Joy. Teya is very certain there's a joke somewhere), the resources and tools for the GAR were absolute shit, and there were much more and much worse injuries in the 501st. A few are coincidences or bad luck. This is a concerning pattern.
Pana notes it during a brief break, "It's like the people closest to a disaster. Those in the thick of it." They pause, large dark eyes distant and ears drooping caf clasped in their paws, "it doesn't add up. The reports, the plans," and then they're off in a whirlwind of action again. Teya can't help but agree. But for now, there's no room for speculation, just work and determination. They're bending over a trooper (he doesn't even have paint yet, and looks young) when his eyes blink open confused.
"Did we win?"
"You aren't dead." Another grumbles from another bed. And Teya just laughs because he was lucky. Too many lucky people here, who shouldn't have needed that luck. Teya has questions.
"Easy there," they soothed instead, pressing bacta into his wounds. "You're alright."
---
They rest for only a few hours. Teya takes the opportunity to finish reading the various reports (and fill out their own paperwork) while Pana sleep against their side. Pana was right. Things weren't lining up, and they knew exactly why.
Skywalker.
There's a briefing meeting to attend, and Pana retakes their position perched on their shoulder, as the pair makes their way across the camp. It's late evening now, and various fires crackle. They had some choice...words to say.