#oc barak

[corellianhounds]

WIP Word Wednesday

Rules: Search your WIP for the word of the week, share a snippet and tag some others!

Tagged by @navigatorwrongway! 🙏 This week’s word is kind

Call Sign

There’s a scene with Djao and some of the others working outside when something goes wrong and *lop* There goes Djao’s finger.

Barak sits between Djao and Nocturne in the infirmary, holding Djao’s arm down on the table and leaning his upper body weight into keeping it pinned. Djao’s still trying to get away.

“Why are you so fidgety about leeches?” Barak asked over his shoulder. “It’s just a little one.”

“Because I remember the parasitology course and- *gag*- can’t stand them. I’ve seen their little mouths under a microscope.”

“Well, that’s what you get for sticking things under a microscope,” Barak said. “Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

Djao pulled and pulled and pulled, but to no avail. His boots squeaked on the polished duracrete. Nocturne had already sterilized the synthflesh joinery tissue and finished suturing the finger back into place, keeping Djao’s hand flat as it twitched. “If you keep moving, it’s going to take longer.”

“Don’t care,” Djao mumbled. “I don’t even need the finger. Take it back. I’ll make do.”

“Crash said Djao lost a finger?” Rizel’s voice came from the doorway. Djao absently kicked out again, trying to dislodge Barak.

“It would be an easy fix,” Barak said, readjusting. “If he’d stop moving.”

Crash and Veetch appeared behind Rizel, curious. “Did you fix it?”

“Not yet,” Nocturne said, annoyed. “Di’kut’s going to end up with nerve damage at best if he keeps it up.”

“Which one is it, one of the middle ones?” Rizel asked with a knowing gleam in her eye. “That’d be a shame, Jay, you need those.”

“Sure, yeah, just let the whole peanut gallery in to watch my medical episode,” Djao groused loudly. “Just line up and take a couple holos while you’re at it.”

“Is that an option?” Veetch asked. “I'll put them with the tattoo and dianoga pics.”

“Are those the kind of leeches that get bigger the longer they’re latched on?” Crash asked. “There’s some on Avaross that’ll grow for as long as they have a blood source—”

Djao screeched in anger, thrashing again. Barak and Nocturne glared.

“Not helping.”

“Sorry, Cap.”

Tagging: @autumnwoodsdreamer, @oloreaa, @fallen-knight, @jedi-valjean, and you!

[corellianhounds]

WIP Wednesday

Call Sign

Update! Chapter 1 is posted!! 💕

OKAY MINOR SPOILERS BUT. This won’t become MORE relevant until the potential sequel anyway and I was too happy about it to just let it sit there :D

Rizel is a civilian and newcomer to the Outpost. It’s hard to know what social faux pas you might commit when you’re not in the know.

“Yeah, if there was anything they didn’t want the Kaminoans finding out about, most brothers would come ask the medics for help,” Nocturne said. “Usually they did something stupid, or sometimes a tattoo got infected, something like that. One guy, Shæze, he went to some local rave not even thinking about what rec drugs get passed around and tried… What, three or four of them?” he asked the others.

“Oh no.”

“Right? I don’t think he came down from it for a week. Two of them stayed in his system longer because of how they interacted with each other.”

“Poor guy.”

“Naw, he’s an idiot,” Nocturne grinned. “One of Djao’s brothers.”

“Oi.”

“Besides, I got to see some of his brain scans and they were off the charts. The only reason the Jedi didn’t pull him off the mission and ship him back to central command was because Shay was getting weirdly accurate at predicting things about two minutes before they would happen. Some extra sixth sense gave him an in.”

“You worked for Jedi?”

The previously amiable room fell silent.

Nocturne sat back in his chair, fiddling with his cup.

Rizel hesitated. “Did… Did something happen to them?”

Nocturne didn’t respond, looking over at Barak. The captain was hunched over a gunlocker, his shoulders tight.

“We worked with one, yes,” Hollis said carefully. “Until they betrayed the Republic.”

“What- What happened?”

“We don’t work with them anymore.” Barak turned the rifle over in his hands. “Orders are orders.”

[corellianhounds]

WIP Wednesday

The “Act II” of Call Sign was listed in my outline as the fun and games section of the story, the troopers of the outpost getting to know the pilot who’s forced to stay there until she or they can make arrangements to get her back down the mountain.

The story was always supposed to be funny, and even though it’s about the growing attraction between Mayday and the pilot, the story is also a survival adventure and the pilot spends as much time working with and getting to know the other men on Mayday’s squad.

“If you want a real challenge, play jhabacc with Barak,” Hollis said. “He’s the only clone in the entire GAR with more than fifty credits to his name.”

“He conned Grimau out of four weeks worth of rent once— that’s Coruscant rent— and was promptly beaten to hell and back when he tried to leave with it.”

Barak seemed unbothered, lacing his hands behind his head and kicking his feet up on a crate, as if the experience Veetch had referenced was barely an inconvenience. “It’s not a con if you win it legitimately. Grimau was just mad that I won despite his cheating.”

“How much does Veetch theoretically owe you now?”

“Ohhh somewhere in the realm of 21,000 credits.”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Veetch drawled with a smile. “I’ve got three years’ back pay waiting for me back on Coruscant, I’m sure.”