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Cody hadn’t stopped for what felt like days, but really, it couldn’t have been that long, as the sun was only just starting to set on the planet Keitum. They had been planetside for quite a few rotations, engaging the Separatists and trying to break through their ranks, but they’d been vastly outnumbered and had seen their forces thin drastically in that time. Today, as they desperately waited for reinforcements to arrive, a tiny cadet sized Jedi had shown up and General Skywalker had hatched another one of his crazy plans. From there, time had passed in a blur; from accompanying his General to plant explosives, to rushing back to base to rejoin their forces, to barking orders to his men, and now, to cleaning up the debris and the bodies of his fallen brothers, Cody had barely had a moment to breathe and he felt a weariness starting to settle deep in his bones.
He was just about to check in on his captains, to make sure they weren’t working themselves to exhaustion (a privilege that he could not afford himself right now, as the Marshal Commander), when a message flashed across the top left corner of his HUD.
CT-6116 (KIX) : CO avoiding medical. Injuries to be reviewed for clearance.
Cody felt his chest tighten as he read the message. As far as he was aware, General Kenobi hadn’t sustained any major injuries during combat. They had been together when the explosions took out a good majority of the clankers. Then, they had rejoined General Skywalker and cadet Cal, who were being swarmed at the base. As soon as his General had rejoined his current and former apprentices, Cody had taken off to find Rex in the fray, and they’d finished off the remaining droids prowling the perimeter.
If his General had been injured, he should have been the first to be informed.
He grit his teeth, both in frustration at whatever trooper had neglected to inform him of this and at his General, who avoided the medbay like General Skywalker avoided his flimsiwork. These Jedi were going to make him turn grey before any of his brothers, he was sure of it.
Cody took a steadying breath, shoved his irritation aside to be dealt with later, and turned on his heel towards the medical tents.
“What happened to him?” Cody asked, as he barged into the medics tent.
Kix raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”
Cody pulled off his bucket, tucking it under his arm as he rubbed his face with his free hand. “You said General Kenobi was avoiding medical. What happened to him?”
“Oh,” Kix answered, realization dawning on his face. “Your General’s fine.”
Cody blinked at him. “General Skywalker?”
Kix shook his head.
“Then who, Kix, I’m not in the mood to play 20 questions.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment; the exhaustion was catching up on him and he could feel an oncoming headache.
The 501st’s medic sighed. “Cal,” he answered.
Oh. “The cad— Commander?” Cody asked, correcting himself mid sentence; it wouldn’t do to refer to him as a cadet in front of the men, even though he was very much still a cadet.
Kix nodded. “Took a bad blaster bolt to the face and neck, and seems to have some damage to his ribs. Nothing life threatening, as far as I can tell, but he’s been having panic attacks on and off, so I haven’t been able to examine him closely or give him official medical clearance.”
Maybe it was their Mandalorian genetic material, or maybe it was the fact that Cody had millions of younger brothers to look after, but either way, the Marshal Commander of the 212th had a deep rooted need to protect those younger than him. He felt his stomach sink at the thought of their newest Commander getting injured in his first battle, and at the fact that Cody had not been there to cover his six.
“Where did he run off to?” Cody asked.
Kix gave him a half-hearted shrug. “Probably after the Generals. They thought he was sleeping.”
Cody clipped his helmet to his belt and crossed his arms over his chest. He’d wait for 10 minutes to see if the Padawan returned to the med tent, and if he didn’t, then Cody would hunt both Master and Apprentice down.
It was completely dark as Cal made his way back to the med tent; Keitum’s singular sun had dipped below the horizon and its four moons were only waning crescents in the night sky. He slowly followed the path laid out by the Republic issued lanterns that had been strewn across the camp, his body finally starting to feel the fatigue that adrenaline had thus far kept at bay.
Glancing one last time up at the stars, he slipped quietly back into the medics tent, ready to make a beeline for his cot and quickly feign sleep so Kix wouldn’t worry about him. Unfortunately, Cal’s plan was unexpectedly shattered as he came face to face with a very stern looking Commander Cody, who was standing in front of Cal’s cot with his arms folded across his chest.
“Oh,” Cal gulped. “Cody.”
Was he in trouble? Why was Cody in the medics tent? Had he failed to do some of the duties that fell on him as a Jedi? He twisted his hands nervously behind his back before asking, “What are you doing here?”
“I was informed that you sustained injuries for which you have not yet been medically cleared, sir,” Cody answered, giving Cal a long once over, cataloging his injuries.
Cal watched Cody’s gaze linger on the bacta patch slathered over the blaster burn on his face and neck, and a very brief feeling of regret permeated the Force around them, but it was gone before Cal even had the chance to reach out and understand it.
“Please don’t call me sir,” he replied, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Just Cal.”
“Alright, Cal. So why don’t you explain to me why you weren’t in the med tent and why you haven’t been examined yet —” Cody raised his hand as Cal opened his mouth to protest, “by a trained medic,” he finished.
The Padawan looked down at his feet. “Because the men needed it more.”
“Ah,” Cody said, inclining his head towards the small redhead. “I was unaware you had extensive medical training and had participated in the triage of the injured.”
Cal huffed at the Marshal Commander’s deadpan reply. “I’m a Jedi.”
“Yes, you are. And where does that title of Jedi place you in the ranks of the GAR?”
Cal hesitated. “I’m technically a Commander, I think.”
Cody nodded. “So, as a commanding officer, would you say you have a duty towards your men?”
Cal puffed up. “Of course!”
“And is it your opinion that your men should seek medical attention after a battle and be cleared for active duty before returning to the field?”
It felt almost absurd of Cody to ask, and Cal could see himself walking right into a trap. Around him, the Force seemed to chuckle with amusement.
“Yeah, I don’t want anyone to go without medical attention.”
Cody nodded again. “So how will your men know that seeking medical attention and getting medical clearance are important if their own superior officer doesn’t think it is?”
Right. It was hard to argue with Cody’s logic, and Cal found himself without words. First Master Kenobi, and now Cody, had both shown him that his stubborn reactions weren’t the right way to deal with his emotions. He still had so much to learn.
Cody placed a reassuring hand on Cal’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
“I know it’s been quite a day, and you’ve seen a lot of osik in such a short time. So let’s let Kix check you out so we can get some rest.”
Cal quietly dipped his head in agreement and let Cody push him down onto his cot. Cody waved Kix over, who swooped in and completed his examination.
“The bacta patch on the face is the best we can do right now. It might scar, but we don’t have any bacta tanks down here for a full submersion. As for the ribs, nothing’s broken, just some bad bruising. A bacta infused brace should help speed up the recovery.”
Cody helped Cal strip off his tunic with steady hands and Kix wrapped the bandages around his small ribcage. Then, the medic placed two pills in Cal’s hand.
“These will help with the pain and get you to relax.”
Cal hesitated and glanced over at Cody, who gave him an encouraging nod. He huffed before shoving the pills in his mouth, washing them down with a drink of water from the canteen Cody offered him.
Once Kix’s ministrations were complete, Cal pulled his tunics back on and laid down on the cot, tugging the thin GAR issued blanket up to his chin. He was surprised when Cody pulled up a chair and sat next to him.
“Aren’t you going to rest?” Cal asked.
“There’s another Jedi around here who needs a swift kick in the shebs with regards to getting some rest,” Cody answered. “And I’m pretty sure he’ll stop by to check up on his new apprentice. So it’s a strategic thing, really.”
Cal giggled. “You’re funny.”
Cody snorted. “Don’t let the men know.”
Cal could feel the medication taking its effects on his body. He felt sluggish as he rolled over onto his side, droopy eyes gazing at the gold sunburst radiating from the midsection of Cody’s armour, across his torso and chest.
“I wish they made armour my size,” he mumbled, sleepily.
He wasn’t sure if Cody even heard him, and soon Cal drifted off to sleep, enveloped in the comforting waves of the Force, warm and safe as sunshine after a rainy day.
It took four more full rotations before they finished their mission on Keitum. Reinforcements did indeed arrive, and then they undertook the tedious task of clean up. At last, Cal, Master Kenobi and Anakin embarked on one of the last transports back to the Venator class ship awaiting in orbit. Cal was excited about finally getting to set foot on his new ship, the famed Negotiator .
After stepping off the transport and receiving a final debrief from his Master, Cal was given leave and was walked to his new quarters by a chatty trooper named Wooley.
The trooper showed him how to set the code on his door, pointed out Master Kenobi’s quarters just across from his, and gave him detailed directions to the nearest mess hall.
After Wooley took off, Cal punched in his new code, and the door to his quarters hissed open.
Cal walked in, taking in his new living space with awe. As a youngling, he had shared his space with his fellow crèchemates for many years; he’d only just recently moved to the Initiate quarters in the Jedi Temple. While his space aboard the ship wasn’t large, it was his , and that was an exciting thought. As he walked around the room, his eyes landed on something lying on his bed.
In a neat, tidy pile were a white, cadet sized chest plate, vambraces, and greaves, as well as a small pair of black, fingerless gloves. Beside them was a small tin of gold paint.
Cal delicately ran his fingers across the plastoid. He closed his eyes, breathed in the Force and felt the echoes left in the pristine armor.
a request put in directly to Kamino
“I know it’s not standard procedure, Colt, I’m asking for a favour”
a small package delivered on the same ship as their reinforcements
the plastoid armor placed gently on his bunk
that same Force signature, warm, bright and safe, like sunlight warming his face
Cal smiled.