Nothing Given
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Crunch.
Cara pinched the metal hose closed, tucking it back into the cavernous rupture of her side. Having tried to focus on surviving, the echo of fluid trickling into her synthetic diaphragm was aggravating. There was no salvaging this body, she was merely buying time.
The light of the Apotheosis medbay had been shut off with a mental cue. It was too bright. Too revealing. She didn't wish to accept that time in this vessel was over, not yet, not the one that could still recall a ghost of her wife's touch. The right arm was a shattered skeleton, the bare rods and servos moving up to check the blown socket of the missing left. The overtaxed thumps of her bio-synthetic heart were not only audible but visible, the organ able to be seen past the rolled edges of durasteel. She would commend the fabricator of the plastics she used for the lungs, their tanks showing only minor burns and discoloration. However the filtration system in the left was shot, metal shards having decorated the casing. Her face was not in its best state either, deep lacerations and burns marred its left side, the eye blinded as well. Plated fingers bumped into the oxygen mask as she explored her wounds, causing her to pause a moment and think of designs for a better issue of mask. Ah, yes, that one may work.
"Heh...Aidee?" Her voice was slurred but she tried fighting the cocktail of drugs in her system. At her beckon, a blue ID10 warbled an answer as it floated near. "I...take this down, an idea," Her arm grew heavy before giving out, falling to her side. "Well would you look...damn. Uhm, idea. Yes, a m-mask. A mask?" She furrowed her brow. What was she thinking of before?
Aidee hovered over, a worried whine droning as he lowered to her side. The droid was pitted with the debris of a too-close frag grenade, the ash of Muunilinist still giving his blue chassis a gray wash. He had tracked her location in the city and witnessed the Eight fighting an advancement of war droids, though Cara was not present beside her men. In his haste he nearly bumped into
Irveric Tavlar
and squeeled as he swerved, knowing the general to be the previously ordained target. Still he searched for the one he was created for.
Darth Morrow
had assumed. But on realization the body against the wall was Cara's he lost all trepidation, zooming by to take an assessment scan. It wasn't the first time he'd seen his caretaker broken, but unlike the first he was no longer useless.
Shut off ruptured valves.
Reroute bloodflow.
Restart the heart.
It gave her a few more hours. Would she have been proud?
The engineer frowned, "What's wrong? Always...something on your mind when your hands," she willed the broken arm to rise and meet Aidee's crestfallen manipulators, "are like that."
It was unfamiliar for any who knew the doctor to hear her speak in such a tone. It almost sounded human.
Drugs? Drugs.
Drip.
Drip.
Crunch.
Cara pinched the metal hose closed, tucking it back into the cavernous rupture of her side. Having tried to focus on surviving, the echo of fluid trickling into her synthetic diaphragm was aggravating. There was no salvaging this body, she was merely buying time.
The light of the Apotheosis medbay had been shut off with a mental cue. It was too bright. Too revealing. She didn't wish to accept that time in this vessel was over, not yet, not the one that could still recall a ghost of her wife's touch. The right arm was a shattered skeleton, the bare rods and servos moving up to check the blown socket of the missing left. The overtaxed thumps of her bio-synthetic heart were not only audible but visible, the organ able to be seen past the rolled edges of durasteel. She would commend the fabricator of the plastics she used for the lungs, their tanks showing only minor burns and discoloration. However the filtration system in the left was shot, metal shards having decorated the casing. Her face was not in its best state either, deep lacerations and burns marred its left side, the eye blinded as well. Plated fingers bumped into the oxygen mask as she explored her wounds, causing her to pause a moment and think of designs for a better issue of mask. Ah, yes, that one may work.
"Heh...Aidee?" Her voice was slurred but she tried fighting the cocktail of drugs in her system. At her beckon, a blue ID10 warbled an answer as it floated near. "I...take this down, an idea," Her arm grew heavy before giving out, falling to her side. "Well would you look...damn. Uhm, idea. Yes, a m-mask. A mask?" She furrowed her brow. What was she thinking of before?
Aidee hovered over, a worried whine droning as he lowered to her side. The droid was pitted with the debris of a too-close frag grenade, the ash of Muunilinist still giving his blue chassis a gray wash. He had tracked her location in the city and witnessed the Eight fighting an advancement of war droids, though Cara was not present beside her men. In his haste he nearly bumped into
Irveric Tavlar
and squeeled as he swerved, knowing the general to be the previously ordained target. Still he searched for the one he was created for. - - -
The shadow was what he remembered. It had loomed over a body and Aidee was at first afraid, not knowing the form which
Darth Morrow
had assumed. But on realization the body against the wall was Cara's he lost all trepidation, zooming by to take an assessment scan. It wasn't the first time he'd seen his caretaker broken, but unlike the first he was no longer useless. Shut off ruptured valves.
Reroute bloodflow.
Restart the heart.
It gave her a few more hours. Would she have been proud?
- - -
Cara was, of course, dying. There were none aboard the vessel, nor any on Muunilinist for that matter, that had the knowledge required for her body's repairs. A moment of pride and chagrin for the Bakuran. It didn't hinder her stubborness however. Though it was by Morrow's hand she was comfortably meeting death on the Apotheosis the engineer still felt required to be difficult with her former master. After all, Morrow had left the Empire. Cara had stayed behind.The engineer frowned, "What's wrong? Always...something on your mind when your hands," she willed the broken arm to rise and meet Aidee's crestfallen manipulators, "are like that."
It was unfamiliar for any who knew the doctor to hear her speak in such a tone. It almost sounded human.
Drugs? Drugs.
Last edited: