Chapter Text
Obi-Wan watched as the Togrutas were slowly corralled from the gun ship, onto The Triumphant, Master Plo Koon’s ship, with the 104th, who had thankfully arrived at just the right time to recover all of the people from the hellish planet.
He felt exhausted, and his back is twinging in pain every time that he moves, but he knows that he needs to hold back, to stay out of sight. The last thing that he needs is to be accosted by one of the medics and brought to the medical unit, when there were so many others who need attention much more than himself. There may not be as many physical wounds on each of the Togrutas, but their mental scars would need to be addressed, with care and attention, by the team.
As he exited the gunship, he plastered himself to the wall, pulling aside a shiny with a dataptad, who was logging in people, and assisted him to check over the information, hoping that it would detract attention from the medic he saw enter, the red pauldron with the medical symbol bright against his white armour, even with the multitude of maroon markings and symbols, which he noted with a smile, seemed to include symbols associated with medical. These included a small hypospray on his shoulder, a medical kit on his left arm, and a stretcher on his chest plate. He wondered if the other troopers had taken his armour and painted it without his input.
He tried to ensure that he did not give eye-contact, but also trying to make sure that he looked normal enough to not raise suspicions.
It seemed to work, as the medic turned toward a small group of Togrutas and led them out of the hangar, likely toward medical. He breathed a sigh of relief, although he also took care to ensure that it wasn’t too loud, before bringing the Force around him like a blanket, masking his signature from the other three Jedi present. He didn’t have quarters assigned at present, and so, he followed the layout of his own Venator Class Destroyer, to find the room that was two decks below the Bridge, allocated as a meditation room.
As Plo’s ship, he had obviously had an input in the decoration of the room, as there were several sculptures, meditation mats and pillows, strategically placed around the room.
He carefully grabbed a meditation pillow and sank onto it, ensuring his back was facing the wall, while he was facing toward the entry door. With his signature still blanketed, he set about stepping into a shallow meditation, one with a slight healing trance integrated, hoping to have a few hours of uninterrupted time, to centre himself, before he was allocated a set of quarters, or they rendezvoused with the Negotiator.
Apparently, luck is not on his side today, as the door opened and soft footfalls enter the room. He opens his eyes to see Master Plo Koon, a mug clasped in one of his clawed hands. “I thought I might find you here,” he says gently, baritone voice calm through his mask.
He calls over a meditation mat with the Force, while he hands over the mug. Its filled with tea and Obi-Wan gratefully takes it with a quick sip, while Plo gets situated on the cushion.
“The Council will require your report once you are suitably rested. Anakin is providing his report at the moment, alongside Ahsoka. The Council has requested that you speak with them in the ships’ morning cycle, alongside Captain Rex.”
Obi-Wan nods as he takes another sip of tea. It really is very good, the perfect balance of floral and bitter flavours, with a dash of milk and a half teaspoon of sugar. He has to work to not give a happy groan of delight, as Plo continues to explain that the Togrutas have all undergone medical exams, and then either admitted, or shown to the hold area that they’ve transformed into a sleeping area, by adding a series of cots to it.
The adrenaline, exhaustion and stress must be catching up with him, as he feels his eyes getting heavier as Plo continues to talk, about Council affairs he’s missed and about the latest Padawan sabre tournament.
He feels the pressure of someone taking the mug from him, there’s a gentle thunk as it’s set down on the floor. A clawed hand comes to rest upon his shoulder as he hears the door to the meditation room open, a slight whirring sound and footfalls follow.
“Shhh, don’t fight it.” Plo’s voice is soothing, but the more that he feels the drag of sleep, the more that he wonders how artificial the sleep is. Something must be broadcast in the Force, as Plo chuckles. “Apologies, my friend. Your medic, Helix, explained that you wouldn’t voluntarily attend for medical assistance. We had to help you.”
“Bast-...” he tries to swear at the other Council member, but the hidden sedative apparently chooses that exact moment, to rudely interrupt his complaints, and sleep drags him under into a painless, dreamless darkness.