by MillietheWarrior » 02/03/2010 10:32 PM
Spike woke to the feel of a blinding headache and a pair of red, angry eyes hovering over him. He only had a second to get his bearings before a bright spotlight fell on his face. He blinked, shielding his eyes as he growled. “Agh, what are you trying to do, blind me?” he growled, batting at the light in his face. An equally growly, equally annoyed voice replied back, and Spike found himself staring into the same angry red eyes. “With all due respect commander, shut up.” The base’s doctor, Kadala, a specially trained medical Clone, stared down at him, a scowl on his face. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than Spike had ever seen them; the man was literally married to his work, and having a case like Spike dumped on him without any knowledge as to how he came to be in this state probably didn’t help the doctor’s sleepless nights.
“What are you doing here, and what happened to you?” the white haired clone demanded, pointing down at the loosely wrapped wounds on his stomach. Spike winced as he sat up, his body screaming in protest; Kadala seemed more intent on finding out how it came to be than treating the wounds that were slowly eating away at Spike’s life. “Doc, can you just-” he panted, struggling for breath in the effort to keep himself upright. Kadala waved him off, a growl in his voice as he went to fetch medical wraps, bacta patches, and what looked like a breathing apparatus. Spike closed his eyes, wondering what happened. The last thing he remembered, Tracyn was circling him, and then he…passed out. He felt something tickle at his throat and looked down to see a small note of paper attached to a familiar looking wrapping.
He picked at it, eyes skimming over the hastily written note, before a low growl rent itself from his throat. “Stupid idiot…” he muttered. She’d gotten the last laugh. Kadala returned with the wrappings, bacta and breathing mask, and began to patch up his stomach wounds. “Who’s a ‘stupid idiot’?” he asked. “Because if your referring to yourself, sir, then I couldn’t agree more.” Spike was too tired and in too much pain to reply as he tore the note from his neck and let it flutter to the floor. He hardly registered Kadala’s voice as the doctor yanked him into a sitting position.
. “Up and at ‘em, Commander. You need to get into the tanks if you want to make it through the night.” Kadala didn’t seem ruffled by the fact that he had a half-dead clone commander in his ward or that Spike might not possibly make it until morning. Spike decided, despite the man’s roughness, that if he made it through this, he was so sending Kadala a fruit basket. He winced as the doctor hefted him to his feet, slinging an arm over his shoulders and walking him to the back where the green, glowing tanks waited.
[35/1]
I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!
A great adventure! +Imp. Documents+ +Menagerie+ +Wishlist+ +Journal+