So much for proud predators.
Honestly, jokes aside, I couldn’t stop laughing at them.
On the way back to camp they came to and studied us with mild, unbothered curiosity.
Master Palek, once he’d woken up properly, this massive kid, blond and broad-shouldered as it turned out, took point on negotiating with them.
Just to avoid completely losing it, I crawled, literally, away from this whole exchange, because there was no way to explain my reaction otherwise.
All because the second one of the birds opened its beak and started speaking Basic, heavily accented and grammatically mangled by the local language, I nearly lost it entirely.
“Oh, sir, we tell you now, yes?
Was sitting, touching nothing, only looking up, pretty stars, sky, then they come, hit on head, no chance to speak, no chance to talk, treated like wild animal!
Why do you do this?” Turned out they run some kind of seasonal migration, and this was essentially an advance scouting party, checking the route ahead for predators before the main flock came through.
And, well, here we were.
Half an hour later, it started.
Started with the order, “armor off.” Fantastic.
Despite the climate control, hauling around an extra forty kilos isn’t exactly a treat, even for us.
We stand there in just our pants, feeding the local mosquito population.
A lean instructor, Master Shavumanadaku Horka, temples going gray from years in the field, lined us up three rows deep, dropped a set of standard field kits with vibroknives at our feet…
Wait.
First, they announced a full training day.
Fair enough, made sense.
Then they split us into platoons, no reshuffling this time, which said a lot about how tight these teams already were, and rotated us through instructors on a schedule, one finishes, the next starts, us stuck in the middle.
And, I’ll say this, this was exactly the kind of thing Kamino never actually covered.
“As you’re probably aware, wounds come in different types.
What we care about specifically are combat wounds, and your job is understanding what to do about them without access to a bacta tank or a trained medic in your squad.
Let’s start with the most common type, penetrating wounds.
Clone Alpha-04, step out.
Two steps forward, face everyone.
Everyone see him clearly?
Good.
Now, first thing to remember, a penetrating wound up to two centimeters deep, assuming it’s not in the neck, is unpleasant, but rarely fatal, actually quite manageable.” With that, this instructor pulled a knife and calmly stabbed it straight into Four’s stomach.
The kid flinched, eyes going wide, but held still.
“As you can see, the soldier remains combat capable after a wound like this, bleeding stays minimal, and as long as the wound doesn’t tear open to palm width,” he started literally widening the cut, “it’s considered completely manageable.” He nudged the clone’s knee from behind, dropping him.
“So, what’s your first move here, Alpha-04?” “Sir, disengage from the fight, uh, sir,” Four hissed through gritted teeth, clearly bleeding now.
“You’ll handle it yourself.
Immediately.
Not every species in this galaxy can keep fighting through a wound like this.
Lucky for you, clones can, since your undersuit’s already applying compression, so unlike some poor soul out there, you won’t be lying there trying to pinch the wound shut with slick, bloody fingers.
Alpha-04, first aid kit’s right next to you.
First thing you reach for?” “Uh, stop the bleeding, sir!” “Wrong, Alpha-04.
First, you anesthetize.
If your armor’s fitted with the automated kit, it’ll inject that for you, so, Alpha-04, open the kit, stop shaking, get it together, and pull yourself out of it, sad sack!
Now find the local anesthetic.
No, not that one.
That one’s a general antidote, might use that later, sure, fine job, third try’s the charm, found the right vial.
Inject it.
Watch the wound, idiot!
The autoinjector’s smarter than you are, it’ll dose itself correctly.” The instructor continued as the injector hissed.
“And only now do we apply the coagulant sponge.
Everyone watch closely, it practically works itself into the wound, leaving behind an elastic, yellowish foam.” He crouched and worked the wound edges with his fingers.
“Remember that color.
Fat tissue, if you’re ever unlucky enough to build any, looks paler by comparison.” He grinned.
“What’s next, zero-four?” “Apply synthflesh, sir,” the kid managed.
“Wrong again, clone.
First, the wound gets stapled shut.
Bring the stapler.
Different wound types call for different staple settings, use the dial on the back to adjust width and depth.
There’s a reference chart built into the tool.
I trust you all read it?
Clearly not you, zero-four, based on that expression.
Wider spacing here, shallower depth.
Correct, exactly like that.
Now, zero-four’s going to demonstrate applying the staples himself.” “Khchk…
mmm…
khchk…” “Stop.
That’s exactly the wrong way to do it.
Staples go at least one and a half centimeters apart, no closer, or what happens to the skin?
Right, exactly what’s happening now, it tears, and the wound reopens along the edges.
Start over from the other end.
Good.
Now, only now, synthflesh goes on, providing extra compression and speeding recovery.
After that, a broad spectrum antibiotic, which your clumsy hands finally managed to grab correctly on the first try, and possibly a general antidote too, depending on the situation.
Everyone following so far?
I can tell from his face he isn’t, quite.
We’ll fix that.
Second wound type, deep penetrating.” At that, he sat down abruptly and drove the knife straight into Four’s leg.
“Waaaayyh—” “Cut the noise, zero-four.
Pay attention.” Horka held up a finger, pulling the blade back out.
“You check wound depth by inserting a finger directly into it.” “Waaaa!!” “Why are you screaming, idiot?
Who’s got a painkiller injector ready?
Why are you staring at me like that?
Inject it!
With deep penetrating wounds, your finger can also feel for shrapnel, if there’s any present.
We’ll cover that properly next lesson, for now just remember it.
In this case, and only this case, once the wound’s confirmed clean, use the bacta dosing syringe from the kit.
Right into the wound, all the way, I said all the way, damn it, test tube, all the way, zero-four, quit whining!
Push it in.
Now, slowly, don’t shake, it’ll make things worse.
Slowly, I said, press the plunger, feed the bacta in evenly.
What comes next?
Don’t reach for the stapler, zero-four, penetrating wounds under two centimeters wide don’t get sutured.
Pressure bandage is enough here.
Wrap yourself up.
What’s that, stomach doesn’t hurt anymore?” “S-sir, n-no, sir,” Four managed, his whole body shaking.
“In this case, full healing without any long term mobility issues takes about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes tops.
Avoid moving during that window, muscle can scar over if disturbed.
Your metabolism actually bypasses that limitation for the most part, so five minutes of stillness, then you can start easing back into movement.
Everyone clear on all that?
Can’t hear you!” “Sir, yes, sir!” the whole line barked back.
“Good.
Now that we’ve got an even number left standing, pair off and practice on each other.” Wait, what?
“Come on, don’t be shy, worst case, we’ll throw you a lovely funeral.” Unexpected, sure, but somebody’s got to set the example, or this whole group freezes up.
I turn to Salty, standing next to me, looking equally stunned.
“Salty, you get to go first on me.
Be gentle.” Salty let out a nervous little laugh and raised his knife.
“Sorry about this, Cap.” “Y-y-yyh—” Damn it.
Seriously, what’s Fett got planned for the rest of today.
com/Hezzario