Doctor's Orders

You're On

You watched Tech in your peripheral as you entered the atmosphere. You were sitting in a comfortable silence, Tech focusing on landing while you gazed out the window.

Even with a broken leg, he was a great pilot. He could have driven the speeder, but his aim was more helpful in the heat of the battle.

"We're about to land," Tech called over his shoulder. There was a sudden shuffle and the clicking of harnesses, and you chuckled as you pulled your seatbelt across your lap.

You closed your eyes, leaning your head back into the headrest as the turbulence hit. You could see the brightness of the planet through your eyelids, and you smiled at the small groan you heard floating from behind you as a bump reverberated through the floor.

A minuscule beeping noise caught your attention. You recognized it. Tech had told you what it meant. You had forced him into bed rest, or more rather, a more relaxed version of his responsibilities, and in doing so, he had attempted to make you a mechanic or maybe an amateur - emphasis of amateur - pilot. Needless to say, neither had been monumental successes.

The beeping was itching at the edge of your mind. What was the beeping for?

It wasn't life support, that was more of a high pitched squeal. You could visualize where in the dashboard it was. It was a small, circular red blip that was pitched near a C#.

"Tech?"

"Hm?"

"The warning bell?"

"I'm slowing down!"

Your stomach dropped as Tech suddenly started descending rapidly, and you couldn't help but laugh. Wrecker joined in, and you could envision him holding up his arms like he was on a rollercoaster, his boisterous laugh echoing through the cabin, hitting the wall in excitement.

Bang. Bang.

***

Bang. Bang.

"Switch!"

The gun fell from your hand as you caught it with your other and held it up again, firing twice.

"Attacker!"

You spun around and threw the blaster at the 'attackers' throat, jumping up and kicking him in the face. He stumbled back, blood dripping from his now bruising nose as you landed on your feet, keeping your knees bent and your center low.

He bared his teeth and prepared to charge. You brought up your fists, ready to move when -

"That will be enough."

Father's heeled shoes clicked on the cold floor. Your instructor's face faded to neutral as he tucked his hands behind his back. Your spar 'partner' picked up the blaster and started disassembling it as he walked towards your target. As he pulled down the paper cutout, you saw 4 singed holes at the head, throat, chest and crotch.

Father walked past you. You tracked him with your eyes, never turning your head as you straightened up.

He kept his voice low as he leaned towards your instructor.

"Your lesson is over," Father cleared his throat.

Taking the hint, you left the room at a brisk pace. You felt your vision tunneling as you walked down the hall. You felt your hands shaking, but you didn't know why. You weren't scared or anxious. You were angry, but that was normal.

You turned to the right into the second training room abruptly. You pulled open the first cabinet on the left, the movement almost second nature to you. You grabbed the box and pulled out the ice pack and slapped it against the counter. It cracked loudly.