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The Measure of Friendship (Part Two)

By ~PhoenixTorque

Star Wars: The Old Republic

Trooper (Badri Emras), pre-game

Disclaimer: I don't own SW. I don't own SWTOR.

******

Emras was cut off mid-sentence by the grenade exploding under his feet.

"Watch out—!"

It all started with one little metal canister rolling on the ground in front of them, on a path straight between Sergeant Emras and Private Yuo. It had happened faster than any of them could react effectively. Emras shoved Yuo off to the side, but not quite fast enough. The explosion knocked Emras and Yuo away from each other, each landing hard on the ground. Despite that, Emras took most of the blast. Iscom could feel the heat ten meters back. Even in that split second he knew the burns would be bad, possibly life-threatening if not treated soon. He had seen what that sort of heat could do to flesh, and it was not pretty.

Brash and Iscom were on the attackers in seconds. It was only two-on-two, which made it all the easier for the troopers. Another time, Iscom would have laughed at how little of a challenge they were. But for now, it was a few quick shots so Iscom was free to focus on getting the rest of the team medical attention.

"Brash, take Yuo to the medcenter. Now!" he commanded, rushing over to the sergeant.

"Rigil?" Emras asked, looking over as Iscom approached.

"Don’t talk; I have to get you stable," Iscom said quickly, tugging out his medical kit.

"I’m fine, I’m just not going anywhere anytime soon," Emras said casually.

Must be the shock, Iscom thought, taking a cursory glance over his injuries. It was difficult to tell under the armor, but the armor itself had been badly burnt all across his left side and down his leg. Iscom was attempting to remove some of the burnt pieces of the chest piece when Emras spoke again.

"I’m not sure that’s a good idea," said Emras, watching Iscom alertly.

"I have to stop any bleeding," Iscom said, pulling one piece off—and moved his fingers back so quickly that he dropped it. The sergeant’s side was hot. Iscom looked at his hand to find the fingertips coated in a thin layer of metal, of all things. As if he had touched something that had melted...

"Sergeant," Iscom said cautiously, "how much of your body is cybernetic?"

"A lot?" Emras said, smiling weakly.

"A lot," Iscom repeated dully.

"Almost half," Emras admitted. "Completely cybernetic up to here," he said, using his right hand to indicate a spot about a fourth of the way across his chest, "and that arm. And the leg."

Iscom stared blankly at his CO. "That’s all?" he asked, rather baffled. He had expected much less metal, and much more blood. Lots more blood. Actually, he had prepared himself for a bloody lot of blood, and now there was none. It was throwing him off.

"And part of my other leg," Emras continued to list. "And around three fifths of the bones in my body. And the ocular implant. And the spine and spinal cord. And the half-dozen biocomputers and biomech chips. And the second kidney. And the auxiliary liver. And most of my intestinal tract. And the part of my heart that works," he finished, stopping for a breath.

Iscom stared at him.

"Oh, and the pain inhibitor chip," Emras added. "And two-thirds of my vascular system. And—"

"Yes, well, with that list I can’t say I’m surprised," Iscom cut him off, trying to peel the metal off the tips of his fingers. "That certainly explains a few things."

Emras looked at him curiously. "It does?"

"Well, no, not really," Iscom dismissed, temporarily giving up on getting the metal off. "Nothing except the lack of bleeding from your melted side. But it seemed like the appropriate thing to say."

Emras laughed. "Alright, I’ll give you that one."

"Can you get up?" Iscom asked, taking a look at Emras’s leg. It didn’t look great, but then again, he was no expert in cybernetics.

"No," Emras answered without hesitation. "My leg’s melted completely out of shape, not to mention my side. There’s no way I can put weight on it like this."

"Alright, I’ll get transport," Iscom said, pulling out his QT. "But once we get this taken care of, you’re going to have some explaining to do," he said, punching in the coordinates.

"I figured," Emras sighed as they faded out.

***

"So," Iscom started. He leaned uncomfortably against the wall. Across from him, Emras was pulled into a sitting position on a folding bed, rather calm, considering everything.

They had, of course, managed to drop in at a rather busy time for the medcenter staff. A nurse had informed them on their arrival that there were no doctors free at that second, but if they could wait fifteen minutes or so, someone would be with them. Emras had insisted that he didn’t need immediate attention, and so they were brought to the room. A nurse had been in for a short while, but only for long enough to do a preliminary and, by some miracle, take off the burnt pieces of armor that had been melting into the cybernetics.

Iscom had snuck out for a few minutes to avoid the overwhelming smell of burnt synthskin, and to check on Yuo—who did have doctors in her room—but her burns weren’t as serious as they could have been. He had told Brash to wait in her room, partially to keep an eye on her, and partially to keep him out of Emras’s room. The private had been worried about his CO; the first thing he asked Iscom about was Emras's status. Iscom had assured him that the sergeant was fine, that there was nothing to worry about, that he really should stay here with Yuo. There was no way he could explain what the sergeant... was to Brash without knowing himself, and he had a rather large suspicion that Emras was going to have enough trouble explaining everything to Iscom without having the hotheaded private asking questions as well.

The sergeant’s silhouette on the bed reminded Iscom of a flimsiplast doll that had been left over a heater for too long. His leg was a twisted mess under the sheet. His side seemed to drip downwards where the metal had melted. His left arm was bent out at an odd angle. Yet despite all of that, there was almost no tissue damage. There were only a few old scars, a fading one wrapping his right shoulder around his neck, three or four that caught his right arm, and, most noticeably, a thin yet prominent scar around his left shoulder that fell down his chest and back, disappearing under the sheet pulled to his waist, that seemed much less healed than the others. Iscom wondered vaguely if it was new, and if it related to his cybernetics somehow.

Emras smiled, amused by Iscom’s discomfort. "Where do I even start?" he asked.

Iscom looked back at his CO. The metal eye patch still covered his left eye. Iscom nodded at it. "Is that just a patch, or...?"

Emras laughed, reaching up with his right hand. He fiddled with it for a moment, and then removed his hand to reveal a cybernetic eye implant, the camera glowing a faint red.

"Completely blind without it," Emras said casually. Iscom blinked, not sure if he was staring or not. Emras seemed to become uncomfortable, and reattached the eye patch to the metal track around his implant.

"Sorry," he said, "I guess I... I don’t know. I’ve never really done this before," he laughed.

"How long?" Iscom asked.

"Eight, nine months now?" Emras replied, understanding the half-asked question.

That was no time at all, particularly for as many cybernetics as Emras seemed to have: he had probably spent most of those eight-or-nine months in rehabilitation. And having so many, that probably meant... "You didn’t get everything at once, did you?" Iscom asked incredulously.

"I didn’t have much of a choice," Emras said with an exaggerated shrug. "Hell, I didn’t have any choice."

"What happened?" asked Iscom, pulling himself off the wall. He took the chair that had been left at the side of the bed, presumably for visitors, although it might have been meant for a doctor.

"Our ship was shot down," Emras said simply, "and a rather large portion of it fell on me."

"So it’s prosthetics," surmised Iscom. "Including the biocomputers?"

Emras gave him a smirk. "I’m going through two of them right now just to tell you that. Movement and verbal processing. Although you could count vision and body regulation if you were in that sort of a mood and make it three and a biomech chip."

Well, that explained his speaking pattern. Having an artificial speech processor in your brain would probably make you a little hesitant when you spoke.

"Excuse me."

Iscom spun the chair around to look at the door. There was a doctor standing there, which wasn’t a huge surprise. It was rather annoying that he had picked the exact moment when Emras was starting to explain things to arrive, though.

"I hope I’m not interrupting," he said, and Iscom suppressed his eyeroll, "but we’re ready to begin work on Sergeant Emras now."

"Go ahead," Iscom said, standing up. "He’s all yours."

"Hey!" Emras protested, jokingly. "You’re just going to leave now?"

"Let this be a lesson on why it’s not smart to keep secrets from your medical specialist," Iscom said with all the seriousness he could muster.

"Cantina, tomorrow night?" Emras asked. "The Broken Column has about the right noise level."

This time Iscom did laugh. "What, you have all the cantinas on this planet scoped out?"

Emras gave a shrug, but only his right shoulder moved. "I’ve had plenty of time. I grew up here, remember?"

"Ah, right, you’re a Coruscant boy," Iscom remembered. "And here I thought you were just a drunk."

The doctor gave a slight clearing of his throat. Right. It was probably past time for Iscom to go.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Iscom said. "Buzz me when you get out of surgery, or whatever it is that you get in to. I’m going to check back in on Yuo."

"Tell me if her condition changes at all," Emras said, a worried glance in his eye.

"You got it, commander," Iscom said with a casual salute. Emras gave an oddly weary smile, and Iscom headed off back down the hall.

***

Honestly, Emras stood out even when he was out of uniform.

"You know, I could have sworn I said something about not getting yourself blown up," Iscom said as he took the second seat at the sergeant's table.

"Sometimes the damndest things happen," Emras said with a smile. "And in my defense, it has been a week."

"Barely," Iscom muttered. Emras chuckled.

He pushed a glass over to Iscom. "First one's on me. Feel free to get yourself another round."

"I get the feeling I'll need it after this," Iscom said, taking the glass. "So, Emras," he started.

"Badri," the sergeant interrupted.

Iscom raised an eyebrow and lowered his drink. "First names already?" he asked.

Emras—Badri—flinched, just barely noticeable. "Just... names," he said awkwardly. "My name, not—just Badri, please," he requested.

Iscom shrugged. "Alright. Time for the mystery man to come clean," he said. Badri gave him a curious look, and Iscom explained, "I took the liberty of looking at your medical records—or trying to. It's blank. One useless stub of a log entry; that's it."

Badri seemed to realize something. "You looked for Badri Emras, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Iscom replied. He was beginning feel confusion sneaking in, followed closely by a sinking bit of suspicion. "What else would I be looking under?"

"Uh," Badri said nervously.

"Spit it out," Iscom said flatly.

"My birth name?" Badri suggested with an apologetic smile.

Iscom gave him a long, hard stare, and then drained his glass in one go. "It's going to be a long night, isn't it?"

"Probably," Badri confirmed with a shrug.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

The Measure of Friendship (Part Two)

By ~PhoenixTorque

Star Wars: The Old Republic

Trooper (Badri Emras), pre-game

Disclaimer: I don't own SW. I don't own SWTOR.

******

Emras was cut off mid-sentence by the grenade exploding under his feet.

"Watch out—!"

It all started with one little metal canister rolling on the ground in front of them, on a path straight between Sergeant Emras and Private Yuo. It had happened faster than any of them could react effectively. Emras shoved Yuo off to the side, but not quite fast enough. The explosion knocked Emras and Yuo away from each other, each landing hard on the ground. Despite that, Emras took most of the blast. Iscom could feel the heat ten meters back. Even in that split second he knew the burns would be bad, possibly life-threatening if not treated soon. He had seen what that sort of heat could do to flesh, and it was not pretty.

Brash and Iscom were on the attackers in seconds. It was only two-on-two, which made it all the easier for the troopers. Another time, Iscom would have laughed at how little of a challenge they were. But for now, it was a few quick shots so Iscom was free to focus on getting the rest of the team medical attention.

"Brash, take Yuo to the medcenter. Now!" he commanded, rushing over to the sergeant.

"Rigil?" Emras asked, looking over as Iscom approached.

"Don’t talk; I have to get you stable," Iscom said quickly, tugging out his medical kit.

"I’m fine, I’m just not going anywhere anytime soon," Emras said casually.

Must be the shock, Iscom thought, taking a cursory glance over his injuries. It was difficult to tell under the armor, but the armor itself had been badly burnt all across his left side and down his leg. Iscom was attempting to remove some of the burnt pieces of the chest piece when Emras spoke again.

"I’m not sure that’s a good idea," said Emras, watching Iscom alertly.

"I have to stop any bleeding," Iscom said, pulling one piece off—and moved his fingers back so quickly that he dropped it. The sergeant’s side was hot. Iscom looked at his hand to find the fingertips coated in a thin layer of metal, of all things. As if he had touched something that had melted...

"Sergeant," Iscom said cautiously, "how much of your body is cybernetic?"

"A lot?" Emras said, smiling weakly.

"A lot," Iscom repeated dully.

"Almost half," Emras admitted. "Completely cybernetic up to here," he said, using his right hand to indicate a spot about a fourth of the way across his chest, "and that arm. And the leg."

Iscom stared blankly at his CO. "That’s all?" he asked, rather baffled. He had expected much less metal, and much more blood. Lots more blood. Actually, he had prepared himself for a bloody lot of blood, and now there was none. It was throwing him off.

"And part of my other leg," Emras continued to list. "And around three fifths of the bones in my body. And the ocular implant. And the spine and spinal cord. And the half-dozen biocomputers and biomech chips. And the second kidney. And the auxiliary liver. And most of my intestinal tract. And the part of my heart that works," he finished, stopping for a breath.

Iscom stared at him.

"Oh, and the pain inhibitor chip," Emras added. "And two-thirds of my vascular system. And—"

"Yes, well, with that list I can’t say I’m surprised," Iscom cut him off, trying to peel the metal off the tips of his fingers. "That certainly explains a few things."

Emras looked at him curiously. "It does?"

"Well, no, not really," Iscom dismissed, temporarily giving up on getting the metal off. "Nothing except the lack of bleeding from your melted side. But it seemed like the appropriate thing to say."

Emras laughed. "Alright, I’ll give you that one."

"Can you get up?" Iscom asked, taking a look at Emras’s leg. It didn’t look great, but then again, he was no expert in cybernetics.

"No," Emras answered without hesitation. "My leg’s melted completely out of shape, not to mention my side. There’s no way I can put weight on it like this."

"Alright, I’ll get transport," Iscom said, pulling out his QT. "But once we get this taken care of, you’re going to have some explaining to do," he said, punching in the coordinates.

"I figured," Emras sighed as they faded out.

***

"So," Iscom started. He leaned uncomfortably against the wall. Across from him, Emras was pulled into a sitting position on a folding bed, rather calm, considering everything.

They had, of course, managed to drop in at a rather busy time for the medcenter staff. A nurse had informed them on their arrival that there were no doctors free at that second, but if they could wait fifteen minutes or so, someone would be with them. Emras had insisted that he didn’t need immediate attention, and so they were brought to the room. A nurse had been in for a short while, but only for long enough to do a preliminary and, by some miracle, take off the burnt pieces of armor that had been melting into the cybernetics.

Iscom had snuck out for a few minutes to avoid the overwhelming smell of burnt synthskin, and to check on Yuo—who did have doctors in her room—but her burns weren’t as serious as they could have been. He had told Brash to wait in her room, partially to keep an eye on her, and partially to keep him out of Emras’s room. The private had been worried about his CO; the first thing he asked Iscom about was Emras's status. Iscom had assured him that the sergeant was fine, that there was nothing to worry about, that he really should stay here with Yuo. There was no way he could explain what the sergeant... was to Brash without knowing himself, and he had a rather large suspicion that Emras was going to have enough trouble explaining everything to Iscom without having the hotheaded private asking questions as well.

The sergeant’s silhouette on the bed reminded Iscom of a flimsiplast doll that had been left over a heater for too long. His leg was a twisted mess under the sheet. His side seemed to drip downwards where the metal had melted. His left arm was bent out at an odd angle. Yet despite all of that, there was almost no tissue damage. There were only a few old scars, a fading one wrapping his right shoulder around his neck, three or four that caught his right arm, and, most noticeably, a thin yet prominent scar around his left shoulder that fell down his chest and back, disappearing under the sheet pulled to his waist, that seemed much less healed than the others. Iscom wondered vaguely if it was new, and if it related to his cybernetics somehow.

Emras smiled, amused by Iscom’s discomfort. "Where do I even start?" he asked.

Iscom looked back at his CO. The metal eye patch still covered his left eye. Iscom nodded at it. "Is that just a patch, or...?"

Emras laughed, reaching up with his right hand. He fiddled with it for a moment, and then removed his hand to reveal a cybernetic eye implant, the camera glowing a faint red.

"Completely blind without it," Emras said casually. Iscom blinked, not sure if he was staring or not. Emras seemed to become uncomfortable, and reattached the eye patch to the metal track around his implant.

"Sorry," he said, "I guess I... I don’t know. I’ve never really done this before," he laughed.

"How long?" Iscom asked.

"Eight, nine months now?" Emras replied, understanding the half-asked question.

That was no time at all, particularly for as many cybernetics as Emras seemed to have: he had probably spent most of those eight-or-nine months in rehabilitation. And having so many, that probably meant... "You didn’t get everything at once, did you?" Iscom asked incredulously.

"I didn’t have much of a choice," Emras said with an exaggerated shrug. "Hell, I didn’t have any choice."

"What happened?" asked Iscom, pulling himself off the wall. He took the chair that had been left at the side of the bed, presumably for visitors, although it might have been meant for a doctor.

"Our ship was shot down," Emras said simply, "and a rather large portion of it fell on me."

"So it’s prosthetics," surmised Iscom. "Including the biocomputers?"

Emras gave him a smirk. "I’m going through two of them right now just to tell you that. Movement and verbal processing. Although you could count vision and body regulation if you were in that sort of a mood and make it three and a biomech chip."

Well, that explained his speaking pattern. Having an artificial speech processor in your brain would probably make you a little hesitant when you spoke.

"Excuse me."

Iscom spun the chair around to look at the door. There was a doctor standing there, which wasn’t a huge surprise. It was rather annoying that he had picked the exact moment when Emras was starting to explain things to arrive, though.

"I hope I’m not interrupting," he said, and Iscom suppressed his eyeroll, "but we’re ready to begin work on Sergeant Emras now."

"Go ahead," Iscom said, standing up. "He’s all yours."

"Hey!" Emras protested, jokingly. "You’re just going to leave now?"

"Let this be a lesson on why it’s not smart to keep secrets from your medical specialist," Iscom said with all the seriousness he could muster.

"Cantina, tomorrow night?" Emras asked. "The Broken Column has about the right noise level."

This time Iscom did laugh. "What, you have all the cantinas on this planet scoped out?"

Emras gave a shrug, but only his right shoulder moved. "I’ve had plenty of time. I grew up here, remember?"

"Ah, right, you’re a Coruscant boy," Iscom remembered. "And here I thought you were just a drunk."

The doctor gave a slight clearing of his throat. Right. It was probably past time for Iscom to go.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Iscom said. "Buzz me when you get out of surgery, or whatever it is that you get in to. I’m going to check back in on Yuo."

"Tell me if her condition changes at all," Emras said, a worried glance in his eye.

"You got it, commander," Iscom said with a casual salute. Emras gave an oddly weary smile, and Iscom headed off back down the hall.

***

Honestly, Emras stood out even when he was out of uniform.

"You know, I could have sworn I said something about not getting yourself blown up," Iscom said as he took the second seat at the sergeant's table.

"Sometimes the damndest things happen," Emras said with a smile. "And in my defense, it has been a week."

"Barely," Iscom muttered. Emras chuckled.

He pushed a glass over to Iscom. "First one's on me. Feel free to get yourself another round."

"I get the feeling I'll need it after this," Iscom said, taking the glass. "So, Emras," he started.

"Badri," the sergeant interrupted.

Iscom raised an eyebrow and lowered his drink. "First names already?" he asked.

Emras—Badri—flinched, just barely noticeable. "Just... names," he said awkwardly. "My name, not—just Badri, please," he requested.

Iscom shrugged. "Alright. Time for the mystery man to come clean," he said. Badri gave him a curious look, and Iscom explained, "I took the liberty of looking at your medical records—or trying to. It's blank. One useless stub of a log entry; that's it."

Badri seemed to realize something. "You looked for Badri Emras, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Iscom replied. He was beginning feel confusion sneaking in, followed closely by a sinking bit of suspicion. "What else would I be looking under?"

"Uh," Badri said nervously.

"Spit it out," Iscom said flatly.

"My birth name?" Badri suggested with an apologetic smile.

Iscom gave him a long, hard stare, and then drained his glass in one go. "It's going to be a long night, isn't it?"

"Probably," Badri confirmed with a shrug.