Star Wars_ MedStar 01_ Battle Surgeons - Michael Reaves [76]
Another exciting moment from the life of Jos Vondar, crack Republic surgeon...
He turned and nearly bumped into a trooper arriving at the bin with several bags of refuse. The trooper mur-mured a respectful apology; Jos acknowledged it and started to leave, then stopped abruptly. He felt some-how that he knew this one. If he looked past the Jango Fett template, there was something about the eyes, the face... he could be wrong, but he was pretty sure it was CT-914, the one who had sparked the question that had, of late, threatened to overwhelm Jos.
"Hello, Nine-one-four," Jos said.
"Hello, Captain Vondar."
"On trash duty, are you?"
"That would seem self-evident, sir." He began to feed the bags into the dilated maw of the bin.
First a droid, Jos thought, and now a clone, cracking jokes. Everyone’s a comedian.
For a moment he just stood there, unable to think of anything to say-which, for him, was a rarity. Finally, he said, "Let me ask you a question."
CT-914 continued to shove the bags into the bin, which ground and hummed as it ate them.
"How did you feel about the death of CT-Nine-one-five?"
Nine-one-four pushed the last of the bags into the hopper. He looked at Jos. "The loss of a trained soldier is... regrettable." Both his speech and bearing were stiff.
Jos knew CT-914 didn’t want to pursue this, but he forged ahead anyway. He had to know.
"No. I’m not talking about his value to the Republic. I’m asking you how it made you feel.
You, personally."
CT-914 stood there for what seemed like a long time without speaking. "Were I a civilian,"
he said at last, "delivered naturally and not vat-born, I could tell you it’s none of your business-sir. But since I’m bound to obey my superior officers, then the answer to your question is that I-personally-was pained by Nine-one-five’s death. We’re all of the same flesh and design, all equal in basic abilities, but he was my comrade in arms. I knew him all my life. We fought together, ate to-gether, and shared our off-duty times like brothers. I miss him. I expect I’ll miss him until I die.
"Does that answer your question, sir? I have more trash to collect."
Jos swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Yes, that an-swers it. Thank you."
"Just doing my duty, Doctor. No thanks necessary."
CT-914 turned and walked away, and Jos watched him go, unable to move. Inside his mind, the tiny voice he was growing to hate piped up again and said, You ought to know by now not to ask questions you don’t really want answered.
No kidding. If they were all like CT-914, then clone troopers were much more mentally complex than Jos had thought. They had feelings, inner lives, maybe even dreams and aspirations that reached beyond the art of war. And that shifted things into a realm Jos didn’t want to think about.
Blast.
27
Though the action was unusual, Admiral Bleyd found sufficient reason to delay his departure from Rimsoo Seven for a few days. He offered as a reason his belief that the matter of the murdered Hutt needed further in-vestigation, and his desire to make certain his people were protected. It might have seemed a thin excuse to anyone with more than a few working brain cells, but that didn’t matter-he was the admiral, and no one would question his decisions.
The real reason for him staying, of course, was to find the one who had dared to surveille him. Whoever it was, he would soon learn how dangerous it could be to spy on a predator.
They erected a command module for him, not much more than a bubble with some basic furniture and comm gear, but it was enough. For someone who had hunted many times on planets where there was nothing to sleep on but the cold, hard ground, a formcot was more than he needed.
The morning after Filba’s death, Bleyd was on his way to meet a transport bringing in