Fandom A Star Wars Story: Intercepted [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

The TIE Interceptor skirted into the hangar of the Executrix, the ship of the late Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin. Metal scraped against metal with the rough landing, and the pilot inside was rocked forward as she tried to engage the brakes and get the ship to function, but to no avail. It was still flashing red warnings at her, and she was fairly certain she was deaf from the ceaseless alarm. ‘Later…later….’ The heat of the ship was getting to her, the smoke, and she pushed the button to release the locks, which caused the TIE to open up.

She spilled out, landing in a crumbled pile of black on the silver floor besides her TIE, a groan parting her lips but that was it, before she was using the TIE to pull herself back up to her feet as Stormtroopers came rushing over to help.

“I’m good, I’m good,” she waved them off, black obscuring her features entirely. Her wounds. She knew she was bruised, but hopefully, nothing else. Maybe a concussion. She’d banged her head pretty bad when the TIE was thrown from the Death Star’s space. There was no debris that fell on her, so nothing was punctured, but the smoke inhalation was probably not good.

She pushed away from the TIE and slapped away a hand, “I’m fine,” she reiterated, “Just…tell me where the medbay is.” She wasn’t about to be helped there, but she needed directions. She wasn’t as familiar with the Executrix as she was some other ships.

“I’ll show you the way,” one of the Stormtroopers volunteered, and with a nod, the TIE pilot consented and followed after the Stormtrooper. She did her best to hide her exhaustion, and hold herself straight. She didn’t reach out for the wall. She managed to only stumble a couple of times, before she was in the medbay and could sit down in a chair.

Of all things, a datapad was handed to her by one of the passing nurses. She removed her helmet only then, and peeled off her black gloves – gloves and datapads didn’t go together.

She blinked her bleary eyes, red veins angrily crossing over the white from the brown, as she put in her credentials so the system would know her and know her medical history, which Pia thought was pretty stellar.

She returned it to the nurse, and leaned back in the chair, only to hear, “LP-767!” called out. At first she didn’t recognize it was her, until it was called again. Then she was jarred up from her seat.

“Here,” murmured like a student, she stepped forward, realized she was forgetting her gloves and helmet, grabbed them, and then turned to follow after the woman who led her towards a private room, and left her with a stupid hospital gown.

Some things never changed.

Slowly, painfully, Pia Mercurio stripped out of her flight suit. She saw the bruises then, and some suggest that she had been burned through it along her left leg and left side. That might explain the smoke. ‘TIE better not have exploded….’ She was attached to that thing.

She set the black flightsuit and mask haphazardly in an empty chair, before hoisting herself up on the cot, and waiting.

One minute.

Two minutes.

At three, she was on the ground again, wondering around the room, picking things up at random and reading whatever was available. ‘Maybe I should have just gone to bed, I’m sure that’s all that was wrong.’ Just tired. She could have just gone to bed and been fine. Why was she wasting her time here?

 

[vanquishable]

For a moment, Seri stopped--leaning into an alcove in the wall like her two feet wouldn’t hold her up anymore. The medbay clamored on around her, with people flickering nervous as the fluorescent lights, but surely. A moment.

She’d just gotten her last patient into a bacta tank not two minutes ago--there was still some on her fingers. He’d crushed his leg in the wreckage of his TIE, and they’d see but it probably wasn’t fixable. It was awful, dead awful, but he wasn’t the only patient she’d seen that night and he sure wasn’t the worst. She remembered the others, and immediately regretted it.

Right. Deep breaths. Just a second, to collect yourself, to slam down a tiny paper cup of water (what she wouldn’t have done for some caf) and get ready for the rest of this. It must be almost over.

It had to be, right? Because it’d been... a long time, since they called her out of bed for this. She didn’t bother checking the clock, but it felt like--well, it felt like a damn week.

And this, this felt like at least two minutes, too long, gotta keep moving. Came here to save people, gotta make that happen. She wrestled down all the fear, the grief, the generalised human ache, to the place where she’d learned to keep her fight or flight, and snapped back to.

She checked her datapad, and it directed her to an exam room, with the note that the patient walked in herself. Which was heartening, or perhaps not, given that there likely weren’t a lot of stretchers left at this point. Whichever it was, she picked up her pace, giving a customary rap on the door and waiting only a couple of seconds before pushing through.

Whatever it was, she was going to put all of this aside and focus on it 100%. Nose to grindstone, one thing at a time. That’s how you do.

She marched through the door, checking her datapad again. “LP-767?” she asked, taking a second to look at the patient.

The girl was pacing the floor, which in itself was a good sign, and at a glance her wounds were... serious, but not dreadful. Seri pulled out her bedside smile, tugging on a pair of fresh exam gloves. “I’m Doctor Landes. Would you mind sitting down so I can have a look at you?”

 

[Lucyfer]

Another nurse came in, or maybe a doctor, Pia didn’t really know. This time, she at least recognized the callsign when it was spoken, or maybe that was just because she was the only other person in the room with this stranger. ‘Doctor Landes.’ She corrected. Okay, not a nurse, a doctor.

She stopped pacing.

“Yeah, sure,” she moved back over to the cot she abandoned and hoisted herself back up on it, cocking a smirk, “How do I look, doc?” Probably horrible right now, she saw the bruises and burns, but that wasn’t going to get in the way of her mood. Especially not when the doctor sent to her was rather attractive. Not that she could really say as much, the Empire preferred people to go with the opposite sex and make children for the Empire.

Pretty sure that would be a stupid idea given her career choice, anyway.

“You look like you've had it rough.” She said, as if to cut any implication out the cocky smile out. She didn't need any loyalty officers harassing her later about untowards comments towards a doctor. “I think I just need a few pain pills. And bacta pads,” self-assessment was probably not the best thing to do, she should let the doctor do her job and tell her exactly how bad her lungs were screwed up, or if the burns were going to need some ointment.

 

[vanquishable]

Seri bit the inside of her cheek--it was usually hard to tell with this sort. Either they’d be relatively pleasant, or they’d go on and on, bullshitting at hyperspeed that they were FINE and that they JUST WANTED TO GO TO BED, or worse, GET BACK IN THE COCKPIT, and tell old Seri absolutely nothing useful about their pain or the nature of their injuries. Still. Hold out hope, she supposed, that this one might be too tired to keep it up for long.

She pulled a small cart of medical supplies over to the exam table, trying to think of some kind of pleasant answer to ‘how do I look, doc, because I just got out of a grade-A cataclysm but YOU look like you’re having a bad day!’ After a moment’s consideration, she settled on “Thank you, but I’m fine. Let’s worry about getting you patched up, alright? I think it might need a little more than ibuprofen and a kiss on the head, but I’ll try to make it quick.” Pilots didn’t like to wait, she found.

Seri got to work quickly after that, more so to occupy her anxious mind than anything else. Hands shook less when they were occupied, after all. She got through a few checks relatively quickly, popped a few blood samples down to the lab. It was an optimistic case, really--the smoke inhalation could have been worse, and a scan revealed a concussion but no broken bones. The burns... were unpleasant to deal with, but the debriding process always was. Once the bacta patches were on, it was more or less smooth sailing. Truth be told, it was almost nothing like the rest of what she’d seen, and she wondered how this particular pilot had been quick enough to avoid a grievous injury.

She tapped a few things into her datapad, and then looked up with a smile that was calm, pleasant, and not even completely false. “I don’t know how you didn’t end up injured worse, ma’am-- you must be worth your salt as a pilot. I’m sure all your friends would love to hear the story once you’re a little better. Now...” and she hesitated, because this was usually the part where people got upset with her “I think I’m going to have you stay a day or so for observation, but then you should be alright. If you’re ready, and you don’t have other questions or concerns, I can help you down to the ward and we’ll find you a bed and an oxygen mask. Sound good?”

Damn, but a bed sounded great right about then.

 

[Lucyfer]

Pia's smirk returned at the comment from the doctor, taking the nature of her words as play more than anything, “Well, if there’s still a kiss at the end, I think I can accept staying a little longer,” she added in that joking tone, to lessen any hint of being serious. Still had to worry about loyalty officers and what they wanted their Empire to be like.

She sat there was the Doctor tended to her and looked her over, following the instructions but sometimes shooting off another wry comment or exaggerating how bad something was…or downplaying it, in the case of the burns. The debriding was the worst. She had to close her eyes tight sometimes, hiss in breath, and try not to let her eyes water too obviously, in spite of the anesthetic she was given.

It hurt.

She was only glad she didn’t scream or curse, and visibly relaxed when it was done. Somewhat. Her shoulders remained up and tense, as if expecting more of unpleasant things to occur. The word that she had to stay a bit to be monitored did put a pout on her lips, and earned the outcry, “But I need to check my ship! It’s worse off than me, and I’m responsible for it,” TIE pilots had to be both pilots and mechanics of their ships.

Still, she could tell by the expression, the grimace that had come before the words, that she knew she wouldn’t be getting out of this. She didn’t give the doctor time to answer, only sighed, “But okay. My ship better not be trashed by the time I get out.” She’d take it right up to whoever was in charge now. She really didn’t know. She’d figure that out.

She pushed herself off the cot, but held her weight on one foot – the leg that had suffered the burns was still too tender want to balance much on, and she understood then why help was being offered. Well…it seemed she’d have to actually accept it this time, and she held out the arm on that side of her body to show her willingness to accept a bit of help.

 

[vanquishable]

Seri nodded curtly, having braced herself for worse complaining. Soldiers, sometimes. Seri often wondered what kept them wedded to the ships and gunnery that so often brought them to harm--but, she supposed, it wasn’t all that different for her. It made a strange sort of sense, which was better than she could say for a lot of things.

“Don’t you worry about your ship, I’ll bet you it’s already been taken back to the hangar.” Or the trash compactor, judging by the state of its pilot. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll see if I can’t find a spare moment to get a message down there and ask someone to take care of it.” It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but it was a bit of an empty promise now, given that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop and catch her breath for another couple hours at least. “Now, let’s see about getting you to bed.”

Seri came up to the pilot’s side, giving her a place to support her weight while trying not to get too close to her wounds. The pilot had been grinning and bearing it this whole time, but even to an untrained eye the burns looked exquisitely painful.

“You alright there? It’s a short walk, just down the hall.” Seri smiled apologetically, helping the pilot take a few experimental steps. It took some negotiating to get through the door to the exam room, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Seri’d had bigger people lean on her before, and those more gravely injured.

Though she knew she was supposed to be focused entirely on her patient, Seri couldn’t help but glance around once she got out into the hall. The area where the exam rooms were was more or less out of the way, being on the other side of the medbay from the triage area, but she could still hear the anxious buzz of a busy hospital. She sighed, but caught herself right after and dug right back down into her work.

All things considered, the pair made reasonable time down to the ward. The place was louder than normal, the fluorescent lights still on even this late (early?). It made Seri’s teeth grind, pushed the anxiety in her stomach to the forefront of her mind.

She took a breath, trying to keep her head clear. There would be time to worry when everybody was seen to and all of this was over. Until the end of her shift, Seri was a doctor. Trouble was, she didn’t know when that would be.

“Here you are,” she said gently, guiding the pilot over to an empty bed. As soon as she had a free hand, she punched a few things into her datapad.

“Someone will be along in a few minutes with an oxygen mask, and I’ve asked for some water as well. Now, I’m afraid it’s against regulations for me to give you that goodnight kiss--” stars, she hated saying that, but it sounded like the sort of thing that might get the patient to laugh, and morale was important “--but if you don’t have anything else to ask me, I wish you a speedy recovery.”

She saluted, then, though she wasn’t required to. It was mostly a joke, but honestly, there was an element of admiration there. This kid-- had to be younger than she was-- had been to hell and back before Seri even clapped eyes on her that night, but she kept up a smile the entire time.

It was almost enough to make her believe the whole thing, for a second.

(ooops, this one's kind of long. also idk if you'd rather i hadn't moved them to the ward, if so that's cool just tell me and i'll rewrite or something)

 

[Lucyfer]

Pia doubted much would be done for her ship, in truth, even with the doctor’s words. No matter, the Empire would give her another ship if they had to toss her current one – but she did favor it. It had gotten her through so many battles, and she didn’t want to think it was damaged beyond repair. After all, she came back, and was apparently not damaged beyond repair, why not her ship? ‘Happy thoughts.’ Not that there were many to be had in a place that smelled like antibiotics.

Even the doctor was tainted with the smell as Pia allowed some of her weight to be held. “Mm…think so,” she answered the query of being all right – or well enough, anyways – before they began their trek out of the room, and on towards the ward. The area before then was definitely chaotic, and Pia watched as others scurried about, wondering if she might catch sight of other TIE fighters she knew, or even, Darth Vader.

Not that she’d recognize him out of his suit, as she assumed he would have to be, in order to get treatment here.

She started to imagine every new face was Darth Vader.

The ward seemed alive, rather than dead. It was more to Pia's tastes, if only because she didn’t think she was going to rest until she actually got out of there. Maybe the oxygen mask would fix that. Or just general exhaustion, once she actually laid down, but her mind was alive with worries over her ship, and what was coming up next. They had to follow the Rebel Alliance, and she’d be needed again – soon.

When she reached the bed, she slid off the arm of the doctor and sat on the edge. Words of the oxygen mask just made her roll her eyes a bit, but she didn’t question it. If she went along with all of this, she might get out of here soon.

Though, she allowed a pout at the words of no kiss. The salute did cause her to laugh, and then to cough, but she put a hand to her chest and smiled again in spite of that, “Well, maybe when you aren’t on the clock anymore. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping till I get out of here anyway – so I don’t need that kiss to sleep just yet,” she couldn’t help it, though it was a far bolder statement than the last one.

She knew she wasn’t going to get it.

“Normally I wouldn’t want to see a doctor again – and I probably won’t, so you take care of yourself, too, Sari,” she hoped that was the name. It sort of got lost in there, though she was fairly certain it was at least close to the name if she got it wrong. Not that the doctor was going to remember her. Callsigns were hard to recall, just a mess of numbers and letters. She wasn't 'Pia' to anyone there.

 

[vanquishable]

Seri chewed her lip, waiting in line for the caf dispenser. She wondered, idly, if it would be too weak or too cold this time, or perhaps whether it might be both. Still, caf was caf, and Seri needed at least four cups a day to survive. Maybe five. On a bad day, six.

It crossed her mind, as it had many times before, that she likely had a problem. But there was nothing for that, really. It was either ‘live on a decent schedule’ or ‘turn to harder stuff,’ and she wasn’t about to do either of those things.

Anyway--her turn. She faffed around with her tray, holding it up with one arm while she filled up her mug. Spilled on herself. Cursed, very quietly.

It was just a wonderful day, wasn’t it? Ten days since the Death Star and they were still running her ass ragged, calling her up at all hours to handle some infection or panic or another. Like she was the only doctor on the ship, she thought, and then immediately corrected herself, because that wasn’t fair to her colleagues in the slightest.

Whatever. Thirty minutes’ peace. Use them, she thought, trudging through the crowd to try and find a place to sit. And then--oh--stars!

Damn! She had to get out of her head sometimes, had to... to not run into people, left and right! Happened all the time--Seri straightened herself up, sighing out some kind of apology.

But, uh, oh. She knew this person. With the long, dark hair, yes, but who? And...

“Oh! Uh, are you alright? I, uh, the pilot? I think I saw you, uh, in the medbay? The Death Star--you were, uh, burned... If I have the wrong person--how are you healing up?”

It occurred to her then that she might want to give this person a hot second to breathe, to right herself and get a word in edgewise, so she shut up after that.

 

[Lucyfer]

Pia spent much of her time after leaving the medbay to fix her TIE. They hadn’t disposed of it, thank the stars, but it was definitely not in a good condition. She was rarely without a coating of oil and grime on her from then on, and she was just coming back from more long hours working on it, fingers cut up and blackened, not by burns, but work. Her leg was another story. She was still walking with a bit of a limp as nerves healed from the burns.

But, at least she could walk.

Her fingers welcomed the cold glass of iced caf she’d managed to grab, and she was on her way to get actual food, even if she didn’t know what she wanted. She imagined she could just grab a sandwich and start walking back to the TIE she was all but living inside.

Of course, in trying to get to that, she didn’t notice someone on turning a corner. She ran into them. She stumbled, and her leg gave out, causing her to fall back. Iced caf spilled over her arm, but thankfully, she didn’t drop it. It was only a bit that sloshed out. She let out a groan, more annoyed than pained, before she heard the voice speaking above her.

She looked up, recognizing the voice, and smirked a bit as she the Doctor who’d offered a kiss. “There were a lot of burned pilots, weren’t there?” She assumed, as she started to pull herself back up, shifting her weight to the leg that was in better health, “Pi—LP-767, Doctor Landes,” she greeted, recalling her name.

Hadn’t quite forgotten the Doctor who’d offered a kiss. It was hardly appropriate for the Empire, even if it was never given. Such warmth and affection always seemed stifled. “I’m good, thanks to you, they have me working on my ship again to go after rebels, so I’ll be out there soon. Maybe seeing you again, soon,” hopefully not in those circumstances, though it was possible. “Let me go get some food, I can join you,” she had planned to just walk off to her ship, but now? She could have some good company.

 

[vanquishable]

Seri frowned apologetically as she watched the pilot right herself--that can’t have been good for her. First, do no harm, right? Ugh. When Seri was in the headspace for it, she could tease tiny bits of shrapnel out of wounds, suture them up so good they’d barely even scar. But outside of work, she was a bantha in a china shop. Tragic.

But the pilot--767--didn’t seem angry at all, which was... honestly quite surprising. She was cordial, with something resembling a smile on her face--which tracked, considering her demeanor while Seri was patching her up.

“Y-yes,” she said, after a second to make sure her head was right. No more of that stammering! “I did see a lot of injured pilots, but not many who walked into the medbay under their own steam.”

She smiled quite honestly, though it wavered a little at the pilot’s suggestion that they eat together. Not that she was at all opposed to speaking with her, she was rather curious to hear how she’d gotten on in the past few days, but because, well, she’d become accustomed to eating alone.

Still, she nodded, and pointed out her usual spot, in the back corner of the mess. When the pilot walked away, Seri drifted over and sat, drumming her fingers anxiously as she waited. It had been, well, some time since she’d had a sit-down conversation with another person--where was that bedside charisma when she needed it?

By the time the pilot returned, Seri had settled on a topic.

“So, um, how did your ship fare? I remember you were... concerned, I did manage to put in that call for you but I don’t know how it turned out...”