Cody: “What is wrong with you guys?! Your all crazy!”
Rex: “Crazy…?”
Echo & Fives: “I was crazy once.”
Jesse & Kix: “They locked me in a room.”
Hardcase & Denal: “A rubber room. A rubber room with rats.”
Dogma & Tup: “The rats made me crazy.”
The entire 501st: “Crazy? I was crazy once. They locked me in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with bats. The bats made me crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once-“
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 25/25
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Kix/Keeping everyone safe
Characters: CT-6116 | Kix, Denal (Star Wars), CT-21-0408 | Echo, CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555, Hardcase (Star Wars), CT-7567 | Rex, Ahsoka Tano, CC-1119 | Appo, CT-5385 | Tup, Chopper of Kamino, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Clone Troopers (Star Wars), CT-5597 | Jesse
Additional Tags: Fake Medicine, Fake Science, Fluff, Team as Family, CT-6116 | Kix is So Done, BAMF Clone Troopers (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Clone Troopers Deserve Better (Star Wars), Clone Troopers Speak Mando'a (Star Wars), Minor Injuries, Kix Just Wants to Take Care of His Idiot Brothers, Bacta Fixes Everything, Seriously Fake Medicine, More About Mental Health, CT-6116 | Kix is a Good Bro
Series: Part 1 of Medic's Honor
Summary:
Clone medic Kix takes his job very seriously. Too bad no one else does. Series of lightly connected one-shots about poor Kix trying to help his brothers. Fake medicine galore. A couple of chapters might be a little intense for people who are very squeamish, but I'll try to give warnings before any of those. Weekly updates!
(Cross-posted on ffn.net and Tumblr)
She could see the difference in fighting for your life, and sparing against her agemates more clearly than ever now.
On the mats, there was no real consequence to losing, save for a few bruises, and maybe a tender ego. In real life, it was worse; there was another blaster wound, this time on her outer right thigh, her body ached and begged for a reprieve she couldn’t give, lest she wished to die, and perhaps worst of all, her face and clothes were splattered in yellow blood.
Denal’s armour looked much the same.
The pair of them lead half of the 501st through the catacombs. Resistance was much sparser once they defeated the initial group of Geonosians, and for that Arwen was grateful. It was mostly just droids now, and she much preferred to hear the clatter of metal falling to the ground rather than the screeching of the natives as they drew their last breath.
Deactivating droids—albeit aggressively—she could cope with. Killing the Geonosians… would it have felt this bad if her master hadn’t just perished? Would it feel less like someone was peeling back the festering skin of a fresh wound, if Master Du was beside her?
“Left or right, Commander?”
“Right, Sergeant Denal, otherwise we’ll end up joining back up with Captain Rex’s forces.”
She kept her eyes ahead, only glancing away to check tunnel entrances as they appeared—she wouldn’t rely solely on the Force to warn her of an incoming Geonosian. She had already lost three men since entering the catacombs, she wouldn't risk any more.
Sergeant Denal was a constant presence at her left, his blaster rifle raised as they led half of Torrent Company forward. They had only run into a few small droid squadrons, and they had been easy enough to dispatch, but as they neared the droid factory she was sure they would run into more.
It had been her decision to split the company into two groups—they had a lot of ground to cover, several entry points, and already sparse resistance. Keeping the company together when they had so much to do, and so little time, wasn’t going to get the job done any faster.
Captain Rex agreed, and the two teams split to plant bombs in the factory, collect intel, and capture—or kill—the remaining generals. The faster, the better. They had no idea if airspace was still being contested, and the signal in the catacombs was so bad that they wouldn’t be able to get an update until they neared the surface again.
As they rounded the corner, the blue light of her sabers reflected sharply back—metal. She came to a halt, and heard Denal take in a deep breath.
“There’s no signal on the comms, but I sent a message to Captain Rex with a timestamp of our arrival.”
“Maybe we’ll get some signal as we go through the factory. Keep an eye on it—we might be able to make contact with the command centre.”
“Yes, sir.”
The metal wasn’t entirely reflective, only in patches where the dust and sand had been disturbed, but it bounced the light of her sabers around far more effectively, and lit the way forward. Arwen squinted as she continued forward, sure that they would face resistance from droids soon. They could be anywhere, in abundance, waiting for them to fall into a trap.
But as Arwen exchanged looks with Denal—or his visor—she realised they couldn’t afford to remain cautious now that they had found the factory. Time was of the essence, and the longer they took, the less likely it was that they would get out. They picked up the pace, Arwen doing her best to extend her senses outwards, hopeful to catch any adversaries before they closed in on them.
She doesn’t flinch when a droideka rolls out into the path in front of them, doesn’t hesitate to throw one of her lightsabers 50 feet in front of her as it comes to a stop. She slices it clean in half, calls her saber back to her hand, and calls out to the group, “They’ll know we’re here. Eyes peeled, and check your fire in case we run into Captain Rex and his group.”
There was a chorus of affirmatives, and Arwen led them into a hallway that split further to the right. If she remembered her glimpses of the schematics correctly, they should be heading in the direction of one of the many control rooms, which would also be near one of the power plants.
“Droids on our tail!”
She whipped around, whispering a curse under her breath. How hadn’t she picked them up with her senses? Why couldn’t she extend them even just a tiny bit beyond her immediate area? Why wasn’t she good enough—
Blaster fire rang out, bolts ricocheting off the durasteel walls and leaving behind harsh scorches. She couldn’t get easily to the front of the group to help, there was no cover, and she scrambled for a solution.
“Keep going the way we were headed,” Sergeant Denal called, “We’re almost at a cross section—we can use the corners for cover!”
Arwen pressed closely to the walls to let the men pass as best she could, feeling her hands shake with unused adrenaline. She was desperate to move, her legs twitching, but she reigned herself in. She could help, but barrelling through the men would only lead to more deaths than if she waited.
As soon as the men were clear, she began deflecting bolts back to the droids, covering the mens back as they retreated. With no fire coming from the clones, she could focus entirely on the droids ahead as she backstepped, not having to worry about accidentally blocking the clones' shots.
When their thundering footsteps came to a halt, she retreated back faster, eventually getting to a point where the men felt comfortable firing. She ducked behind one of the corners, surveying the men on each side.
Some injuries, a few burns from blaster fire, but from what she could tell nothing serious, and no deaths.
They were extremely fortunate.
She looked beyond, down the hall further to the right, and her eyes lit up. She could see a set of doors, and an access terminal in front of it.
“I think I can see a door to a control room,” Arwen called out. Denal’s helmet swivelled towards her as he stepped back for cover, letting someone else take his place.
“A power plant shouldn't be too far off then. We’ll finish off these droids, then get to work.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the excitement in his voice, “Anything from Captain Rex yet?”
“Nothing yet.”
They made relatively quick work of the droids, and soon made their way down the hall, stopping at the access terminal. Sergeant Denal huffed as he fiddled with the keypad, smacking the side of the terminal when it flashed red, ‘DENIED’ popping up on the screen.
“We need a keycode,” he stepped back, “Maybe those droids back there have it stored in their data banks—”
Arwen slashed through the terminal with one of her sabers, and the door slid open.
Denal was quiet for a few seconds, “Why didn’t you just do that in the beginning?”
Arwen gave a sheepish smile, “I wasn’t really sure if it would work.”
She pressed forwards before he could respond, finding the room empty. Nevertheless, a few men were stationed at the door, just in case, and the remaining people swept the room quickly. It took only a few seconds; the room was relatively small, and the only places to hide were beneath the computer terminals, which had all been left on.
Arwen wasn’t a slicer, and didn’t have much talent in regards to computers and programming, but like most padawans her age, she knew enough to get by. The fact that the computers didn’t require a password to access should have been clue enough that they wouldn’t find anything noteworthy here.
She sighed after ten minutes of scouring for information, deleted files, contact records, financial details, blueprints, anything, and looked at Denal, “Nothing here. Computers have been scrubbed clean.”
“Think we’ll have any luck in the other control rooms?”
“Hopefully, otherwise this will be a total bust.”
“Well, not a total bust, if you ask me,” she could hear the mischief in his voice as he reached into someone’s pack, pulling out a handful of explosives. Arwen whistled—explosives weren’t exactly her area of expertise, but she knew enough about them to know that these ones packed a punch, and were detonated remotely.
“Who's the lucky man who gets to click the detonator?”
“Me,” he said smugly. He threw one to her, which she caught easily with the Force, “Stick it under that desk, would you?” She did as she was told, and in minutes they were heading towards the power plant, which ended up being several hallways and another droid squad away.
The room was massive, but essentially empty, which made Arwen think they were holing up somewhere, probably with a general, if there was still one present. The company split into pairs to cover more ground, laying out explosives intermittently in the places they would do the most damage—beneath a power coil, along a gas line, atop a case with flammable liquid.
They departed the room in quick time, all clones accounted for, and continued their way through the factory. They bypassed any droid processing areas—too many droids, too few safe areas to traverse, too much risk—and encountered few enemies on the way.
They found three more control rooms, two more power plants, and the longer they travelled uncontested, the more on edge Arwen got. The hair on her neck stood on end, and her grip on her sabers was white-knuckled. She couldn’t even tell if it was the Force telling her to be on guard, or her own paranoid mind.
Regardless, her paranoia came in handy when, after slashing through a terminal to a main control room, several blaster bolts came right for her. She deflected them with some difficulty, but they just kept on coming.
The clones were already clear of the doorway, unable to be closed, so Arwen backed off too, “Anything from the Captain yet? We might need some backup here.”
“I’ve tried a few more times, still nothing. We’re on our own.”
“Don’t suppose we have any droid poppers left?”
“Just three, sir, and it won’t be enough.”
Arwen peeked her head around the door, trying to take a quick headcount of their adversaries—dozens of B1’s and B2’s, two droideka’s, a general—and ducked back just as a blaster came zipping past. She could feel the heat of it as it zapped by her forehead, “Definitely not enough,” she hadn’t even gotten through half the room, “But I think I saw a door on the other side.”
“A second entry point? Was it guarded?”
“About the same as this one, but it could give us the advantage. And we need to cut off their exit anyway—I saw their general.”
“Not a droid general, I take it?” At his words, Arwen shook her head. Denal sighed, and she watched his helmet tip back, “Why do we never get the easy ones? I heard Captain Keeli say their last two droid forces were led by another droid, and they were easy pickings.”
She didn’t humour him with a response, but couldn’t stop the small smile on her face. They split their already divided force into two, Arwen and Denal remaining where they were. Once the others got to the terminal, they would blast it to gain access, which would hopefully distract them long enough for Arwen and Denal’s men to toss the droid poppers in with at least a little bit of accuracy. From there, they would take out as many droids as they could, press forward when they had the room, and hopefully take the general captive so they could gather some intel.
The clones took plenty of shots when they could, never allowing the droids or the general to get comfortable or strengthen their defences, and Arwen was surprised to see just how many they had managed to pick off as they waited for their team to get into position. Not enough to push forward, of course, but enough to litter the floors and cause issues for droids trying to reposition, especially the much less manoeuvrable B2’s.
Arwen kept a close eye on where the general was hiding—she had seen him duck beneath one of the desks, and could just see the mustard colour of some of his clothes peaking out. He was Kerkoiden—not a species she could say she had seen man of throughout her travels as a padawan—and she could hear him barking out orders to the droids, though was unable to actually make out any words over the blaster fire.
She got no warning from the Force when the doors on the other side of the room shot open, but it didn’t mean she jumped into action any slower. As soon as the majority of the droid forces turned to begin covering the backs, Arwen signalled for her men to throw the droid poppers.
She aided with the Force where she could, but got distracted part way through when a bolt from a droideka nearly clipped her ear. Luckily, her men had good aim, and the sudden electrical charges took at three of the four droidekas, and a good number of B2’s
They would make quick work of the rest. Her eyes flickered over towards the doors, and she saw Captain Rex and his men file in—they’d finally caught each other.
As the numbers thinned, Arwen finally went into the room, taking cover behind the thick metal of the desks where possible, and the clones followed her lead. The general, whatever his name was, was suspiciously quiet now that backup had arrived. He’d likely realised there was no getting out of this, and hoped to remain hidden and safe underneath his desk.
The last droideka was still firing, but it was on the opposite end of the room to the general, and so were most of the remaining droids. If she could get to the general, she could get him to call the remaining droids off—it wouldn’t exactly be a moral victory, as their enemy wasn’t sentient and being spared from death, but if it stopped the fight early it could potentially save a few clones some injuries, maybe even their lives.
She didn’t call out her plan, lest they hear it and begin trying to regroup, and began cutting through the droids in her way. More than a few blaster bolts came her way, but in the thinning numbers, they were easy to deflect. She could sense Denal directly behind her, offering her cover fire, where she offered deflection.
Finally, she passed the last isle of desks, leaning down, sabers aimed towards the place beneath—
“The general’s gone!” She yelled, gritting her teeth, “There's a vent here—he must have escaped through it.”
“Where does it lead?” Captain Rex asked from across the room.
Arwen eyed the open vent space with trepidation, and stuck one of her sabers down slightly. The metal reflected well, but not well enough to see, “Down,” she replied, and eyed the hook and cable wedged into the floor. She lifted it slightly with the Force, trying to see if there was any weight attached to it, if the general was still hanging on the other end. It had plenty of slack, and she sighed, “There’s a cable attached. I’m going down too!”
“Wait, sir—”
She disengaged her sabers, leaning down and sitting on the edge, her feet disappearing into the darkness, “I won’t be long—I’ll meet you back up here shortly.”
“Commander—”
She slid into the vent, and began a quick descent, not bothering to grip the cable, and instead extended her senses outward. She’d have to catch herself.
She took a peek upwards as she fell, and saw a shape cloud the little light that came from the top of the vent—Denal, if she had to guess. The cable moved slightly, and she hoped he had a good grip.
Her senses flared as the bottom neared, and she slowed her descent with little difficulty. She landed steadily on her feet, and quickly climbed out of the vent directly in front of her—
She rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a blaster bolt to the head. It made contact with the wall instead, leaving a burn behind. She peeked out from behind her cover—another desk—and caught the general making a run for the door. She stood and reached out a hand towards a metal cabinet next to the exit, using the Force to nudge it out of place until it tipped on its side and blocked the door and terminal.
Finally, the general turned to her, blaster raised shakily towards her. She ignited her sabers. His red eyes glinted, a stark contrast to the blue skin, and she thought she saw his mouth trembling in fear. Guilt wracked her, and she lowered her sabers slightly.
A Jedi’s first instinct should not be violence.
“Surrender now general,” she heard Denal’s feet make contact with the vent floor, and watched the Kerkoiden twitch as his red eyes snapped to find the sound, “A peaceful surrender will get you much more sympathy when it comes to trial.”
His upper lip curled in disgust, and he shook his oddly shaped head—cone-like, until it tapered down to his nose and jaw. He bared his lower tusks at her, “I won’t surrender, padawan. I’d rather die.”
He fired his blaster, and Arwen leapt to the side, her saber just managing to catch the bolt before it made contact with Denal as he exited the vent. Her eyes narrowed at the Kerkoiden as he scrambled to hide behind another desk.
At least she could tell he wasn’t going for another vent, as he periodically raised his blaster above the desk to shoot randomly towards them. She began deflecting shots—and it almost felt easy. One person was nothing to defend against, and his rate of fire was nowhere near as rapid as the droids she used to practise against.
Denal came up beside her, and when his helmet tipped in her direction, she looked at him. He gestured for her to go right, and he would go left. She nodded, but began speaking.
“Final warning, surrender and submit yourself to justice under the Republic.”
He started cackling, and the shots stopped. She froze, the sudden silence eerie, and watched Denal stop walking. On either side of the desk, Denal nodded to her—
The Kerkoiden general leapt out from his hiding space, firing off several shots at Arwen that she easily deflected, then turned to Denal. Her heart raced, she reached a hand out—to do what, she didn’t know—but Denal fired at the same time he did.
The generals shot missed by a hair as Denal ducked, but Denal’s landed square on his chest.
She took a deep breath, tried to ignore to echoing scream in the Force as something else was gouged out, and Denal lowered his blaster. When he spoke, his voice was stiff, “What’s that?” His foot nudged a small device with a flashing red light. It was plugged into the computer. Arwen knelt down, pointedly avoiding even looking at the body before her, and read the aubresh letters across the small screen aloud.
“Factory lost, intelligence wiped. Enemy explosives planted. Requesting immediate evacuation for General Lhone Grosque… Distress signal received. Evacuation request denied. Bomb squad en route, ETA unknown.”
