Doctor's Orders

Proxoglycerima

"Come one, come all, to my table of precious mysteries," Misa swept his hands wide over the table as you scoffed, dropping your backpack on the ground next to you. "Got everything you asked for."

Misa had set up an impressive show of portable, or the smallest version of medical tech for all sorts of purposes, from a blood pressure monitor to minature cryogenic chamber used to preserve amputated limbs.

You slid the medkit with your number ID plastered on the side across the table to you, glancing inside. You grabbed a roll of compact tube while eyeing the automatic tourniquet. Misa handed it to you and you attached it to the outside pocket of the medkit. A small ovalesque box caught your eyes, and you grabbed it, pressing down on the pressure lock to pop it open. Inside were several sets of yellow circle lenses, along with a few microchips.

"What's all this for?" Misa slid an extra box of bacta towards you, a smart choice.

"Doesn't the medical surplus guy know?" You raised your eyebrow, shutting the case and adding it to your pack. He crossed his arms, waiting. "I'm not with normal clones, they have less standard medical needs."

"Like what? And why did you want glasses lens replacements? I've never met a clone who wears glasses."

"Tech does, and I want to try and fix his eye strain from staring at his datapad," You scanned the table, trying to find the army-packed weighted blanket. Misa found the small rectangle bag first and threw it at you from the other end of the table. You kind of caught it, squishing it in between your hands and your chest. "Wrecker's metabolism is so incredibly fast that he is in real danger of losing muscle mass because his body is eating it."

"I went to medical school, I'm aware of how metabolisms' work."

You snorted, zipping up your kit and pulling your backpack up to rest on the table. "You failed out after two months."

Misa held up his hands in defense, feigning fake offense. "I dropped out due to lack of effort, not lack of smarts, for your information."

"Uh huh," You grabbed one more thing from the table and wrestled it into your bag. You zipped it shut, looking back at him with a tease ready.

"Doctor, we need you back at the ship, we are about to depart," Tech's voice startled you as it rattled into your ear.

You had skipped the mission briefing to pick up supplies. You were oddly nervous. You had spent plenty of time on the front lines, and even accompanied a squad or battalion once or twice, but you felt like you were running in blind. This pick up was non negotiable, but you still felt an underlying upset in the back of your mind at your uniformed state, while simultaneously your brain was telling you to buck up, you were used to improvisation.

"Coming," You threw your backpack over your shoulder.

"One more thing," Misa held it out. You bit the inside of your cheek. You knew how to use it, and you couldn't go into the field on a mission without it, but you still wished you didn't need it.

You grabbed the holster, sliding out the blaster, holding the grip. You slipped it back in, leaning down and strapping it to your thigh. "Thank you, Misa."

You ran off, knowing Tech would want you to be quick, hearing him yell after you, "Good luck!"

***

You studied the map of the facility as Tech highlighted key portions. It was built into the side of a mountain, with geysers spouting off plumes of gas. "This mine must be destroyed."

Wrecker was laughing in the background as you flew to the other side of the planet, the Separatist side, but something felt off.

"This planet was inhabited, what if there is a town nearby?" You rifled through your bag.