2008-07-23 - These Choices We Make

From Star Wars - Dark Horizon's MUSH

These Choices We Make
Date	July 23, 2008
Factions Involved	Jedi Order
Location	Coruscant: Medical Center and Academy - Reception
Events
Outcome	Failure.
Characters Involved
Obi-Wan Kenobi, Liam L'hnnar

An injured Obi-Wan Kenobi is brought into the Coruscant Medical Center after saving the Defiant. However, a tiny assassin is out for blood.

Coruscant: Medical Center and Academy - Reception This tall office is brilliantly lit from long glowing lamps set abut the junction of the walls with the floors and ceilings. The entire facility has been paneled completely in white plasteel, differing only in the black plasteel trim around the lights, and everything is kept clean and polished to sterility. The cleanliness coupled with the intensity of the illumination makes the whole area seem to glow with a light of its own.

A long series of desks dominate half of the northern end of the office, and they are manned day and by a team of professional, fresh-faced young medical students and nurses. Transparisteel display boards stand up from the desks before their eyes, displaying data for patient histories, appointment schedules, and emergency medical requests from all over the planet in sharp green.

The other half of the northern wall is set with many clean white double doors accessing repulsorlifts, each of which is large enough to hold a repulsorbed or other heavy equipment. The southern half of the office is filled with white chairs and long benches, all mounted to the floor and modestly cushioned in black.

FORCE: You experience a calm feeling and receive a vision: The RG Defiant, a massive Victory Star Destroyer, falls into Coruscant's orbit.. until, like a soft net, something takes hold of her and corrects her position. Her only hope, the last vesteges of strength derive from a man aboard her command deck; a man in iron armor and a long coat..
You think of Obi-Wan Kenobi ...

As Coruscanti evenings go, tonight has been no different. At least as far as most of the planetside locals are concerned. Darkness brings in a stifling summer heat and a quiet hush to the Coruscant Medical Center and Academy, the white halls almost gray in the dimmed light, staffed by the few unfortunate souls to be working the night shift.

News of the trouble in orbit has reached few ears, for now. No doubt, it will be the topic of morning conversation. However, at the moment, there is but pleasant evening revelry amidst the eager youths, and descent into slumber for the very young and the very old.

In one bedroom of the Academy's dormitories, a little boy had startled awake. A nightmare, or a vision? Dressing quickly, he wanders the halls now, sleep lost.

Two men carrying a stretcher make their way into the medical center and pass through the blast doors. They glance around, both clad in Republic Guard uniforms, and call out for aid.

Atop the stretcher is a man in a long coat and iron armor. The bottom portion is dented, caved in from a fierce strike. His face, clean shaven and quiet, rests to the side, but betrays no injuries.

Not many physicians choose to work the evening shifts. Some do it for the credits, some to avoid their family lives, and, fewer still, those gems of souls that do it for the love of the job. Tonight, the latter seems few and far between. The reception desk is staffed by droids, one of whom panics at the sight at such another, the other raises all matter of distress and alarm.

"Oh dear! Oh dear! What a mess! This unit is not programmed with the medical expertise for this manner of injury. Nurse!"

An aged Quarren greets the guard officers, stroking his graying facial tentacles. Doctor Frusk, Chief of Staff, by the insignia on his white coat. "Guardsmen, a pleassure. Pleassse, get the wounded one to a secure room, we will take a look at him immediately." He points down a long hallways, sparsely populated with rooms.

The guardsmen grunt and nod, saying, "The UCB medical center was clear across the planet. Just patch him up so that we can move him and we'll be on our way. The General's blacked out, we're not sure what happened. Just that he won't come to. Or can't."

They march off, moving towards the secure room.

In gray silk pajamas, Liam moves through the Academy's halls. A faint rustle of fabric betrays him, but otherwise, his bare feet are silent against the tiled floor. The air on Coruscant is different now. Occasionally, the boy pauses in his movement to scratch at the back of his neck, then shakes his head and continues. A flash of armor, boots sounding in the otherwise open hallway. He ducks into an open doorway and watches them pass, doctor in tow, into another room, and he holds his breath.

"Set him down," Frusk instructs. "You are lucky you came here. If it is serious, further movement will hurt him further. If we are lucky, however, the internal damage is minimal, and an intravenous bacta solution will be enough..." A tired nurse produces the medical solution requested. "It might be easier to leave him here until he wakes. I assure you, our security is without parallel since the snipings."

The soldiers frown at the Quarren doctor grumpily. One of them explains, "We're not leaving the general. No offense, doc, but if you'd seen what we've seen you'd," the other clears his throat and punches the other man on the arm.

"Quiet, corporal," he says. "Get him stable, doctor, and we'll talk to the personnel over in the UCB med-bay. Just make sure he lives."

The boy evades their attention.

The Quarren huffs, facial tentacles curling in a little. "Oh, you misunderstand me, human." It comes out a casual warble. "He is very stable. There is little anyone can do for him. The nature of these types of injuries, you see." He shifts the packet of greenish liquid from hand to hand, leaving the process of preparing the IV for the weary nurse. A poor prick, then another. Finally, the needle is properly inserted and the bag suspended.

"See what the bacta will do in the morning, is my best suggestion. If you'd like, we can provide you with bedding, if you wish to stay with him throughout the night."

"Well stand guard," the soldier replies calmly. "No need for beds."

The corporal watches the squidient as he works, then adds, "I apologize. Just make sure he makes it," the man finalizes.

The tentacles on his chin wobbling, the Quarren bows his head to the guardsmen. "As you wish, sirs. Should you need anything further, feel free to call for the droids." And he steps back out to the hall, the nurse at his heels.

But a door away, in the darkness, the child stands in waiting, toes curling into the tiles, hands balled into fists. In his right, a delicate instrument from his most prized of possessions - a small holoscalpel. And, so he waits. He could wait all night. They would have to sleep some time.

The doctor gone, the two Guardsmen remain by their post, arms crossed. They frown deeply at the room and begin to talk.

"So, what finally pulled us out in the end?" the corporal asks.

"No one knows."

"Did you feel it?"

"Of course I felt it, everyone did. I already told you that."

The hallways empties, settling into peaceful silence. The kind of silence that comes with a hospital - the soft hum of hololamps, the symphony of various apparatuses and their low beeps and high chimes.

Next door to the chattery guards, Liam sighs, shifting weight from one foot to another. No, no, that would not do. Think fast, boy. His free hand grabs the closest object in reach - a holoclock. It will have to do. And, then he peeks out of the door...

and chucks the clock with all his might - not much, he throws rather like a girl - at a maintenance droid. It lets out shrieks of surprise and terror, flailing its cleaning arms around as the child ducks back into cover.

"What the frak?" the corporal says while jerking a blaster pistol out of his belt. He looks down the hallway while the other also removes a pistol.

"Check it out, corporal," he says calmly while looking around the room. "And don't do anything stupid." The man nods and moves towards the commotion while the officer surveys the room quietly, pistol at the ready.

The maintenance droid wails when the corporal emerges into the hallway with a drawn blaster. "Attack! Attack! Cleaning processor damaged! Attack!" Not designed for fast movement, the machine ambles away, arm-mops in the air, leaving a trail of wet where it goes.

One. No, there were two. Yes, two. Liam waits some more. "Come on, join your friend," hissed through clenched teeth.

The corporal stares at the droid with a confused expression, then turns quickly. He motions towards the other Guardsman, who nods slowly and approaches a hallway. The corporal disappears into another hallway and moves quickly, scouting the area, while the other steps up against a wall just outside the room.

Liam gives it a small moment, just enough to slip the unignited holoscalpel into the waistband of his pajama pants, takes a deep breath, and steps out into the hallway from his room, putting on his best yawn and rubbing his eyes sleepily. "What's going on.. mister?" He pauses, seeing the blaster, hand slowly lowering to his side. He looks a little panicked. "I.. think I saw something go.. " he points the opposite direction nervously. "that way..."

The officer frowns at Liam and says, "Yeah, it was a droid. Go back to bed."

Beyond the hallway, the corporal reaches a post and motions towards the Officer, who takes little notice.

"I guess I'll check it out," the officer concedes calmly. He walks by Liam and past the corporal, who remains hidden.

"Yes, sir." The boy calls after the officer weakly. But, not his own bed, no. The moment he is given enough distance, he slips into the fallen general's room. No point in subterfuge now. The door gets promptly closed and locked.

Hospital rooms at the Medical Center are simple things. White, like everywhere else, from floor to ceiling, lit dimply in the evenings, and during the day, by the sole window in the rooms. With purpose, the boy pads towards the resting form, fingers finding holoscalpel again. It's of an interesting make, crafted and detailed in distinct Paxin style.

The door remains closed, though the corporal sneaks to it, exchanging a look with the officer. He quietly removes something from his pocket, checks it, then looks down the hall. The officer, out of sight, watches the blast door through a scope in his blaster pistol.

Obi-Wan remains on the bed, bacta infused.

In its own right, a holoscalpel does look very much like a lightsaber, except extremely tiny. A flick of a thumb brings Liam's to life, casting a yellow glow on the boy's face, grim and emotionless. The soft light brings out the hollows and crevices that youthfulness generally hides so well. Gray eyes darken, the humming blade lowers to the sleeping man's throat, a breath from skin. It emanates a pleasant warmth...

A moment later, the doors open with a whoosh and the corporal fires a blue ray at Liam. The locks on the door falter and close, then hammer open again while the officer's door jammer works to keep the door unlocked.

After his shot, the corporal's face contorts up in shock and surprise. "What the!?" he manages.

Obi-Wan remains motionless.

Almost. So close. A fraction of an inch closer, and it would all be over. The boy's resolve falters, fingers tremble, long (milliseconds) before the door comes crashing open. Managing to swerve just out of the stunning bolt's way, Liam tosses the holoscalpel to the floor, hands and lips quivering.

"No! Not like you. I won't... be like you." he croaks at the motionless body. "Never like you." After the broken voice, the tears come, hot and fast. Consumed by whatever drives him, the guards are practically ignored.

"Wake up!" Small, hot hands grab at Obi-Wan's face, words come between sobs. "Wake up, so I can hate you." It is an odd warmth that his hands give off. Comforting, despite what his words and actions might otherwise imply.

The soldier stares at Liam in disbelief as the officer moves into the room, gun raised. When he sees the boy, though, he sighs and punches the corporal's arm again. "Idiot," he breathes calmly.

Stepping forward, the officer says, "He's knocked out cold, son. Come on now, get off him." He attempts to pick the lad up, or at least help him down off the table.

Obiwan's face is pressed down and his head rolls, but not of his own doing. He remains still.

Liam's fingers peel away from resting man, with some guardly encouragement. The boy descends into hiccups and sniffles, letting himself get hoisted up by the officer. While not small, the boy is relatively lanky and lightweight, not too much of a burden when unresisting.

"Wake up." He continues to murmur wetly into the officer's coat.

"There we go," the officer says calmly. He pats the boy's back, saying, "He'll be fine, lad, he'll be fine.. but in the morning. Now, come on, let's get you to bed." He pats the boy's shoulder while shooting the corporal a glare. He shrugs and gives the 'woops' look while sighing. After holstering his pistol he moves to stand guard over Obi-Wan again.

"Come on, then. I'll walk you back to your room," the officer says.

A long sniffle and Liam shakes his head to the officer. "I.. can make it myself. Really. You," sniffle. "should help him watch." Yet another sniffle. With a fist, he rubs tears from his eyes.