Novacaine for the Soul

[Miras Tinup]

The Confederacy's military hospital on Druckenwell is a stately, towering construction of duracrete and marble painted a shining white. Uncharacteristically for the crowded city planet, it's surrounded by a sprawling, well maintained lawn and vibrant gardens that offer a magnificent display of a wide range of both local and foreign flora. It is, quite simply, beautiful.

I hate it.

I don't even know how long I've been stuck on this kriffing planet- weeks, at least. The events on Thyferra are a muddled mess in my mind that not even mandatory counseling sessions have been able to unravel, and so far my time in the hospital hasn't been much better. Everything is flowing together- the minutes slip into hours slip into days, and I can't seem to keep track of them as they all flit by, laughing.

I'm in the east garden now, standing barefoot in the grass and watching workers flee back inside as it begins to rain. Everything is swaying in a growing breeze that speaks of a coming storm. It is a moment saturated with sensation, all of nature tremulously building toward an inevitable release.

And I can't resist a bitter smile, because I can't feel any of it.

Oh, the ground is solid beneath my feet, and I'm conscious of the raindrops pattering against my exposed skin. But they're not cold. The grass doesn't prickle. I can't smell the storm on the wind. Whatever these people did to me after I was infected...robbed me of everything save the basest of senses.

Thunder cracks, and I turn to look back at the hospital, smile souring. They won't let me leave. I have to be cleared, they say- and that's all they will say. Not that they could stop me if I chose to go anyway. I was formidable before the procedure; now I'm unstoppable. And if they did kill me to keep me detained, would it really be such a loss? I am cut off from the world around me, and sinking deeper with each breath I cannot taste, with each heartbeat I cannot feel.

Lightning lashes the sky, and the heavens open to release a downpour.

I turn back to the flowers.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"No sensation at all?" the Knight Commander glanced over the file incredulously.

The nervous doctor gave a stiff, uncomfortable chuckle. "In order to introduce the necessary level of nanomachines to fully remove the infection from his bloodstream, normal levels of anesthetic were not enough to keep the nervous system from responding with enough sensory overload to deaden his brain." It was true enough, but Alkor still found it unbelievable as he scoured the paperwork again.

"You've robbed a Confederate citizen of the opportunity to live a normal life, Doctor. This is not a laughing matter." He looked up at the man with a gravely serious face. "That we were able to save him at all and give him any semblance of life is a credit to modern medicine, but I cannot say the Vicelord will be incredibly pleased to hear about the outcome."

"Y-yes, of course," the man stammered. "We have done everything we can to assure his comfort and reintegration with society, and with time and new leaps in technology, we might one day be able-"

"That's no guarantee," Alkor folded his arms. "He was a credit to the Defense Force, but they won't have any use for a man who has no sense of touch or feeling. You've assassinated his career."

He did not have to see the man to know his face had gone pale.

"Luckily for you, the Knights Obsidian does not have such... paltry requirements, and I have something that may give meaning to his life again. May I speak with the patient?"

"Yes of course," the doctor spoke hurriedly. "Just through that door, down the way. He's in the gardens."

[member="Covet"]

 

[Miras Tinup]

It's ironic, isn't it, that I can't feel the storm cascading down on me, but I can feel eyes on my back? Normally I would ignore it. My stay at the hospital has been full of observation. Counseling sessions, follow up examinations, recorded interviews. Every staff member just had to catch a glimpse of the man who had survived the outbreak on Thyferra. Not one of them lent any weight to the cost.

'Lucky to be alive my arse,' I thought. But this felt...different, somehow. Something bespoke significance, an odd sensation of conjoining I've never felt before. I turned slowly to watch as a lone figure strode through the rain to meet me.

"Knight Commander," I said, not without surprise. I don't know the man, never even seen his face, but I'd heard stories of the Mandalorian turncoat who now held the ViceLord's highest esteem. Younger than I had expected. Shorter, too.

Numb fingers scratched idley at the scruff on my jaw as I considered the implications of his arrival. Being discharged from the Defense Force was a foregone conclusion at this point. I was at least smart enough to know that much. But a simple message and pension details were all I'd expected in that regard. If a member of the Knights Obsidian was here, it wasn't to let me know I was being let go.

"You here for a sit-rep? I already told the last CDF officer everything I can remember." I shrugged. "I don't know what happened to the rest of my unit or the egghead we were escorting, if that's what you want to know."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"On the record, most people don't," Alkor replied evenly. "The things you witnessed in the Rejuvenex facility are classified tier 3, above the security clearance of most Defense Force personnel." He did not speak of what had transpired directly, but what he did, was subtly infer that the man's pay grade had significantly increased. Whether or not [member="Covet"] caught on to that fact would be seen soon enough.

"No, I don't need any reports from you. I compiled the data on the Thyferra situation myself. Needless to say, the misfortunes you suffered there have effectively ended your time with the CDF, however, your direct knowledge of the situation has drawn the attention of the Dominus Prime and we took some liberties delving into your record and having some tests run."

He reached for a folder, secured under his arm previously, and extended it toward the man. "Midichlorian count substantial enough to evoke Force Sensitivity, deadened sense of touch, cybernetic enhancements and augmentations to compensate for your losses- tell me, have you considered a career with the Knighthood?"

It seemed funny to stand there in the rain offering a man a folder, but Alkor had never been traditional. Neither of these men had lived a wholly normal life, and neither of them would start at this very moment.

 

[Miras Tinup]

For the first time since my awakening I shook with laughter. "Sorry Commander, but I think you received some faulty Intel. I'm positive I've never read anyone's mind or made anything move with my own."

A high midichlorian count meant kriff-all to me. I don't claim to know much about Forcefuls or how their connection to the energy field works- I've killed a few of them, but strangely enough they weren't very talkative during- but I know that no such bond exists within me. Maybe they pulled the wrong file, another member of my unit. Our medic was always a weird one, maybe him.

Two things he said were definitely not a mistake, though. The first was as obvious as it was inevitable: I was no longer a soldier with the Defense Force. Well, I'd seen that much coming and it didn't exactly break my heart anyway. I was a soldier because the only things I've ever been good at were killing people and following commands, in that order. No lofty or noble notions of honor or justice had prompted me to enlist; to me it had just been a paycheck.

Still, it was all I knew, and he was taking it away with one hand and offering me something new with the other. It didn't take a genius to realize their little administrative error meant that hand held nothing but ashes. The Knights Obsidian didn't coddle anyone who wasn't force sensitive. Joining them was out of the question.

The second fact he'd implied, intentional or not, well..."On the record, you said. Just tell me...did they make it?

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

He paused for a moment as his mind wandered over the images and notes pertaining to the case. It was handled with kid gloves, but any broach of protocol, even after finalization, could be disastrous. Still, the man had a right to know, and technically Alkor was here to offer him those levels of clearance. He decided to do the rational thing and omit detail. [member="Covet"] could go back later, if he so chose, and review details.

"I don't know how much they told you in the debriefing process, but I know about what you should know according to what we allowed out from behind the red tape. That said, they fell victim to a strain of sickness that the facility had been studying. They had not been observing proper safety habits, and so, the facility was quarantined to be decontaminated and subsidized."

After all, when people died the way they had... businesses that operated that way had no right to continue operations. Or so the Vicelord had decided, the moment Thyferra was inducted into the Southern Systems. Alkor glanced toward the other man, who's skepticism was more than palpable.

"Walk with me," he entreated, "and we'll see about your discharge. Something tells me their idea of rehabilitation is only worsening your condition."

 

[Miras Tinup]

All for naught, then. I'm left an insensate husk, stripped of my rank, livelihood, and ability to feel, and the kriffing scientist ate Sithspit anyway.

Kriffing way she goes, innit?

I shrugged. "It's about time." I stepped past the Knight Commander and departed for the hospital with long, even strides. There's a fine line between disregard and disrespect, but the man seemed to be perceptive enough to grasp which side of it I was on.

If not, what could he do, fire me? Too late. Execute me? Good riddance. We were back inside within moments, out of the cascading rain and lashing wind and into the pristinely quiet and sterile interior of the hospital. To anyone else it would have been a sharp and sudden contrast, but to me it was all the same, a seamless transition from one stimulus-free environment to the next.

The wet soles of my bare feet slapped on the tile as we walked down the hallway. "So I take it you haven't let news of my survival leave this hospital." A two-fold question. If they hadn't, it would be effortless to slip away, out of Confederate space and onto some backworld smuggler's moon or agricultural hole in the wall.

But, if they were keeping a lid on it there was a reason. It could be I would never actually be leaving this place- alive, anyway. Just another casualty from the debacle on Thyferra. Once they were done with me, of course.

My mind tends to wander, now. Being cut off from the outside world forces you to turn inward, and my but what a frenetic tangle of paranoia and aggression I've found there.

We're nearing the back offices.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor raised his identification as the security guards stepped forward and they made way for both he and [member="Covet"] to pass, averting their eyes as though they had seen something they should not have. If he looked back, the other man would notice them falling back into their natural positions, guarding the corridor Alkor had led him down.

The Knight Commander briefly stuck his head in the door and handed some papers to the doctors, who glanced up at him and went pale. A few shaky words escaped them before Centaris calmly closed the door behind him, folded his arms, and explained the situation. At the same time, all eyes were on Covet. There were no ways out without clearance. Though he was in a hallway, nearly a meter from freedom that door would not open for him without proper codes.

He may as well have been in a cage for those minutes.

When Alkor reopened the door, he gestured toward the exit. "The paperwork has been accepted to secure your release into my custody. I will be taking you back to Geonosis to receive several newer treatments to hopefully undo some of the atrophy and restore what natural functions of your body the Confederacy can, but the neural damage is done."

He said it like it was nothing, but he knew it sounded like a death sentence. Still, Alkor continued. "The papers I just gave them are explicit. Your time of death, immediate freezing and seizure of familial assets, and initiation into the Knights Obsidian. You may choose any codename you like to go by moving forward."

He paused. "Alternatively, you are dead on paper. If you wish, I can end your life here and no one would know any better."

 

[Miras Tinup]

I simply listened, expressionless, as he laid out my destiny with all the drama of someone explaining the current economic status of Dantooine. It's not a mask; I can't really be bothered to care either way, and that makes my decision all the more difficult.

For all of my misanthropic Sithspit, I don't really want to die. No afterlife awaits me, and the thought of slipping into some cold Oblivion isn't a welcome one. At the same time, the prospect of soldiering on in my current state is exhausting. Perhaps it was merely some evolutionary instinct to survive at all costs that managed to make it seem preferable to death.

I met his gaze and shrugged. "Your superiors are going to be pissed when you bring home a non-forcie, Commander."

Sarcastic inflection was beyond me, and I delivered the statement in a weary deadpan. It was as close to a yes as I could muster with bitter, acidic bile roiling in my throat. I found myself suddenly jealous, looking at the hale and hearty man before me. His lack of pity was as surprising as it was refreshing, but the sharp contrast between us was too obvious to ignore. He stood as a bright star, his career dwarfing mine, his power whispered of with reverence and admiration, his skill and physicality peerless.

A shining star indeed, and my very existence threatening to flicker into nothing.

"Call me Covet," I said through clenched teeth. "Let's go."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]