#1st annual GAR medic conference

[clonemedickix]

Rating: M

Word count: 7.5K

Pairing: OC Clone Medics

Warnings: Mention of medical trauma, mention of medical procedures, mention of prehospital care and trauma, discussion on pediatric care, alcohol use, implied substance abuse/impairment, implied sexual activity, medical humor, prehospital humor (it's snide y'all, that's the reality)

Excerpt Summary - Day One of the 1st Annual GAR Medic Conference

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First Day: Watch Out For That Drop!

Clones started to file into the appointed lecture room for the first class, finding tables laden with breakfast pastries, cereal and blue milk, large steaming carafes full of caf. There were a lot of bleary-eyed men wandering about, hungover from the previous night of drinking, laughing and story telling at various restaurants and bars. The group was fairly quiet, considering how loud and raucous they'd been the night before, and Volte was secretly feeling quite smug over the rest he'd managed to get before starting classes that morning. It wouldn't last; Kix was not about to agree to another night of simply going to bed. He'd come to party and relive stories, and he wasn't going to let Volte's boring personality drag him down.

Sawbones and Whiskey sauntered into the room, also looking more bright eyed and bushy tailed than most of the others gathered around the table. Sawbones quickly moved to the caf table, giving a few of the younger, hung over clones sharp looks that had them shifting out of his way. He even growled "MOVE!" at one that hadn't gotten the message from his body language. The groggy medic looked up in surprise, blinking as if the light were too hard, saw the grizzled old clone's expression, and quickly moved as ordered.

The first day of classes started with a bang, almost literally. "Advanced Airway Management for Facial Trauma: What To Do When Holes Are Present That Shouldn’t Be" discussed such things as facial trauma from shrapnel wounds, blaster wounds, and stab wounds. The medics were all educated and most, though not all, were seasoned by having been in the field in some capacity. Airway management was always critically important; the C-ABCs were the most crucial steps in first response to save a patient. One of the younger medics, Chance, leaned over to his neighbor, Heron, a medic from the 218th Company, and asked "What do they stand for, again?"

Heron stared at the little shiny brother for a moment wryly, as if wondering why the fresh kid was asking something so obvious, and then muttered back, "Catastrophic Hemorrhage, Airway, Breathing and Circulation."

"Ahhh, thanks, 'Vod," Chance whispered back, flashing him a little smile.

The subject matter and attendant images were pretty harsh for a first-thing-in-the-morning class, but medical people were strange. They could handle looking at evisceration over a plate of spaghetti, or discussing dismemberment and gross bodily functions while eating dinner. An outside observer might wonder what was wrong with these people - how they could be so numb to horrific images - but the men all sat sprawled back and half awake in their chairs, sipping caf and munching on breakfast pastries while listening attentively to the lecturer.

A particularly gruesome image with an attached story was of a nat born civilian injury, in which someone had contrived to shoot them in the face. The front of their jaw and a lot of their lower face was missing, creating an airway nightmare scenario for the medics to ponder. The presenter stopped the class for a moment to take ideas on how the students would secure the patient's airway.

Stretcher, a noticeably taller than average medic with the 327th Star Corps spoke up. "Was the patient breathing on their own? I mean, if they're getting air, maybe just support, scoop and run."

The lecturer nodded, saying, "That's one idea. Any others?"

Volte leaned forward a bit and spoke up. "Intubate the patient. Follow the bubbles - where the patient's breath meets blood there will be bubbles and that should identify the airway. Secure it with a laryngoscope blade and pop a tube in there, because there's no guarantee how long they'll be conscious enough to keep breathing on their own, no matter how fast you run."

"Good, very good. Following the bubbles is a legitimate method. Would you use a facial mask over a patient like this?," the teacher asked.

Heads shook to say no. Bagging a patient like that would cause the remaining airway, teeth and tongue structures to collapse and further occlude the airway. It would be a disaster without proper jaw thrust to keep the tongue from falling back over the trachea; better to use a high flow face mask until real securement was in place.

"Very good, class. Any other suggestions?," the lecturer asked. This was the last discussion portion of his class and always generated some good feedback.

Once again, Volte spoke up. "One could always place a surgical airway, bypassing the entire upper trachea and the wounded area, but there's also a couple of types of airway adjuncts from my General's home planet, called the Combitube and King Airway. They're a blind intubation method - they can end up in the esophagus and yet still provide oxygenation and ventilation because of the position of their side holes. They were designed for things like this, when you have to just stuff the tube in blindly and hope for the best."

"That's very interesting. Have you used these tools, or seen them in real life?" The instructor seemed quite intrigued; this whole convention was about teaching new methods, updating education and showing off new technology. He'd love to get his hands on these tools being discussed.

"I have seen the King Airway, used it in fact. My General has brought us several implements from her home world to use in the field. I've found they help a lot - cut down a lot of the time to treatment element and help us get the wounded off the field quicker." Volte held up his data pad. "I've got some images stored on my data pad I can show you."

Kix coughed loudly and covered his mouth as he gasped out, "Be sure it's not the pinup pictures!" Several men heard him and chuckled as Volte looked over at him with a disgusted grunt and elbowed Kix in the ribs.

Volte snapped back something he'd heard General Lin say in jest when telling a trooper to shut it and leave. "Get thee gone Satan, or I will smite thee with my data pad and tape your mouth shut with conduit tape." Kix chuckled and walked out the door to stretch his legs while Volte and the instructor had their nerd moment over the airway adjuncts.

The class emptied out for a break before the next session started, "Rapid Sedation: How to Restrain Your Patient in Fives Seconds Without the Use of Conduit Tape." As the men trickled back in from the refresher and more caf, Volte and Kix grabbed seats near their little core group, seeing all of the Corries clumping together as well. Sedating patients was always a topic of discussion and sometimes jokes with medics, especially the Coruscant Guard, who as a general rule had to contend with the element of drunk partygoers or recreational substance use on all levels of the Capital ecumenopolus. Even the rich, famous and Senatorial types weren't innocent of the occasional dalliance.

To everyone's surprise, the speaker was an old nat born training medic from Kamino, famous for her assertive, indomitable will, her small stature and fierce eyes, nicknamed 'Pockets'. Few patients or students ever crossed her, afraid of seeing the wrath boiling in her cool blue eyes. Pockets was small, but a hurricane-like force of nature, and those who'd challenged her in the wild always found she was ever ready to sidestep the battle with a quick stab of a needle in a well placed muscle. She was not there to play games, she'd say. Pockets was there to help, even if it meant taking you out of the picture so she could do her job.

The group of clones were fascinated that such a small female could do so much with so little; the men were all no shorter than six foot two, give or take a couple inches either way. It was a rare day when someone out of their head challenged them, but it still happened occasionally, and every clone to a man believed that little Pockets would have a bull reek fully immobilized in less than five minutes, by herself. Sawbones gleefully imagined her strapping him to a bed with tape and having her way with him - he liked bullheaded, assertive girls that didn't back down.

"There are hundreds of medications spanning the range of emergency antipsychotic medications to straight sedation and pain classes, which can also serve the same purpose. In extreme cases, where a patient's psychosis or high goes too far and they require the aid of us assisting breathing, a small cocktail is required." Pockets paused, glancing around the room at her attentive audience. They were all breathtakingly handsome, and their dark eyes blinking back at her wiped her train of thought for a second. She cleared her throat, grasping at the threads of her lecture once more. "It was actually developed for the use of sedating and securing the airway of mothers in obstetrical distress, needing immediate surgical delivery and a patient airway. Given in the appropriate order and dose, the treatment team was able to knock the patient out without causing them to vomit reflexively, putting the airway at risk due to aspiration.” Pockets took a quick breath and then finished by saying, “So thank the next pregnant lady you see for rapid sedation protocols- they did you a favor.”

The lecture continued on in the same vein, as she covered the different medications, a short blurb about their history and pharmacology, pharmacokinetics, dosing and route of administration. She covered a few medications that could be given without intravenous access, which still had to be injected. "Sometimes, it's just satisfying to stab a truly unruly patient with a needle and watch them finally hit the wall of sleep. Definitely more humane than what one former partner of mine did. He used every roll of conduit tape in the ship to mummify the patient to the spine board after the guy decked me. I fell out the back of the ship, which was thankfully still on the platform, and really cracked my head hard. My partner didn't take too kindly to that, and since we had a trainee aboard, he and the newbie wrapped that guy head to toe with the tape to hold him down and keep him from hurting anyone else. They left his eyes, mouth and nose free of course, but it's safe to say the guy got a free waxing he didn't plan for when he started his day."

Pockets retold the story with a pretty neutral tone, though her eyes glimmered a bit with laughter. To some, the story probably seemed a little hard on the patient, but to others, like the Corries, it was all too familiar, recalling the many times some patients were less respectful, kind and cooperative, bordering more on the side of unsafe and dangerous to the medics and their crew. No medical crew should ever have to fear for their lives for simply trying to help a person. The forward operating medics all shot glances at the Corries, knowing this was more in their realm of expertise; it was rare that a wounded man in the field acted with such abandon and violence toward their medical officers. Sure, they could and would use the knowledge gained from this class to better care for their brothers, but they didn't plan on having to sedate them for behavioral issues. Now, doing it as a prank... that conduit tape mummification gag sounded pretty attractive to several of them, eyeing their neighbor a little mischievously or thinking of a certain brother they'd love to see strapped to a board. A few day dreams included visions of toting said brother around the base while still taped on the backboard, leaning him against the wall like he was nothing more than a curious object while continuing on blissfully with their lives...

Jab, a junior medic attached to Phoenix Company, chuckled softly and murmured to his neighbor, Captain Jaro of the 16th Medical Battalion, "Those injectable sedatives would be fun to carry in some of our autoinjectors. Can you imagine? Guy gets rowdy and you're like, 'Calm down or you're gonna get a poke.' Guy keeps fighting, 'One, two... stabby stab.'" He chuckled again; he was notorious for giving meds off count - it always took the men by surprise, as they trusted him enough to believe he would get to three before poking them, but no, not Jab. He believed in getting the negative stuff over with as quickly as possible.

The Corries as usual were all sitting together in a group, and Voodoo leaned over to Patcher, saying, "So, this means we're completely justified in sedating unruly supervisors that don't take care of themselves too, right?"

Patch laughed and answered back, "I'm not sure what YOU did was necessarily within the protocols, but justified? ...Maybe..."

Siren fixed Voodoo with a stern look and said, "Fox completely deserved what you did! If he wasn't going to look after himself, it's the medic's job to do so. When it comes to the health of the troopers, the medic is in charge."

Voodoo grinned back at the support of his brothers. Their Marshall Commander, Fox, had a bad tendency to work himself to death and refuse food and sleep until whatever obsession was on his plate was taken care of. When Voodoo was still somewhat new to the Coruscant Guard, he'd seen the man get particularly haggard and ground down after a long hitch of watching Senators for some big wig meeting in the Capital. When the rest of the men started to complain about how short tempered, hangry and down right bitchy Fox was getting, Voodoo decided to take matters into his own hands. He made a pretense to visit Fox in his office, moved to look at something over Fox's shoulder, and quickly stabbed him in the neck with an autoinjector of sedatives.

Fox had reacted like a snake bit him, shooting out of his desk chair with a strangled, "What in karking HELL did you just give...me..." as he crumpled to the floor and immediately drew in a stuporous snore.

Voodoo stood over him with triumphant grin, then hailed Thorn over his comm device to come help him get the Commander to some place more comfortable than the floor. When Fox woke up two days later, he found a warm, nutritious breakfast spread on the table next to him, as well as a note from Voodoo that simply stated, "And I'd do it again."

When the class broke up, the men all wandered off to find lunch. They had a good while before the next class started, so some of the medics headed back to their rooms to relax, nap, read a book, watch some holo net. Kix and Volte left the convention center to walk down the street, in search of food they hadn't tried as yet; they didn't want to burn out on hotel food when there were small Hosnian Prime native shops within reach to try.

The after lunch program started off with one of the most taboo and terrifying subjects in the medical world: pediatrics. As a general rule, most people were afraid to treat children. They often approached that patient population with the attitude of 'children are just small adults', and 'a silent kid is a dead kid, but a loud kid is annoying.' About the only medic actually excited to attend the class was Minder, who ambled in quickly, found a spot on the front row of the class, and waited eagerly for the speaker to climb the dais. Volte and Kix decided to sit just behind their friend; they didn't want to seem too excited about the topic.

Volte was wary of kids, but wasn't averse to treating them. His General, in fact, kept a job on her home world of treating children hospitalized for various illnesses, and had told him many times of long term patients she'd gotten to know. She seemed to hold a real affection for small patients and always patiently imparted tips to Volte on how to get on their level, gain their trust so that treating them was easier. General Lin always asserted firmly that treating kids was FAR better than dealing with adults, hands down.

There were low chuckles, murmuring, and a few gasps when the presenter climbed up to the podium. The instructor was a small, sprightly young woman, dressed in a costume that looked like a cat, whiskers drawn on her face, with little pointed ears sticking out of her curly hair, and a long tail trailing behind her. She placed a small sheaf of papers on the lectern and looked up at her audience, seeing hundreds of wide, amused to shocked brown eyes staring back.

"Howdy! Welcome to 'How to Approach Younglings: They're Not Armed Bombs.' I’m Madi, and this lecture is going to contain a lot of personal experience, maybe even some tips you might find helpful in the future. The biggest take away I want you to learn is that kids don't have to be terrifying. They're all unique, fiercely brave little souls that will all make a mark on you in some way, most likely permanently. You'll never forget these little patients going forward, especially if you are lucky enough to form a bond with them."

Volte and Kix had both sat up to attention when they saw the speaker’s attire, and Kix looked over at Volte with an amused expression. Her costume was very telling; it left little to the imagination about her form and figure. Kix was staring guilelessly at the woman, amazed that she had the spirit and courage to appear before a room full of single, handsome rakish men dressed as a sexy cat; he was salivating over the thought of getting her comm channel numbers. Volte was simply trying to look attentive and interested for the speaker. Sawbones leaned forward to mutter in Volte's ear, "I'll definitely never forget her wearing that outfit, going forward..."

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to dress up like a cat for you. Let me tell you why, because it certainly wasn't to feed your filthy imaginations." Madi squinted at Sawbones knowingly; she'd seen him say something to Volte that had made the medic shift in his seat uncomfortably. "On my home world, medical professionals that specialize in children often dress up for different occasions, because wonder and imagination are both so important to a child. There is a whole day dedicated to dressing up as someone or something else for fun, and going around asking for candy from adults. At the facility I work at, we have a party on a sky bridge, where all the medical workers dress up for the children, to hand out candy and toys." Madi paused to see more of the clones were intrigued at the thought of her interacting with child patients on some distant planet, dressed up for the part in some tantalizing costume or other.

"Another important thing to remember about kids - they're not just small adults. A child's body is not mature; it's still going through a very complicated growth pattern, as is their mind. It's important to know the different developmental stages for a child, so you know how to interact with them appropriately. For instance, a toddler may hate you on sight, regardless of what you do, because it's within their developmental stage to be afraid of strangers. If you luck out enough to land on a character they're familiar with, you might be able to approach them more easily. Otherwise, you might just be in for a small rodeo."

Volte heard Voodoo mumble, "The kriff is a 'rodeo'?" This was something Volte had a lot of experience with; people were generally confused at many of the quips his General said in the course of a conversation. Even her own men were often forced to make her clarify what she was talking about, and would remind her “Basic... General. Basic." So it made Volte smile a bit seeing General Lin wasn’t the only person who needed a translator for their little euphemisms.

Madi looked at Voodoo a little dryly and huffed out, "Rodeo = wrestling match, same thing."

Sawbones laughed darkly and muttered, "I'd wrestle with her any day, and she can call it whatever she likes."

Rolling her eyes slightly at the male commentary, she continued on, outlining the different stages of mental and emotional development for children, then discussed multiple physical changes that occurred with growth. She wasn't to let their locker room humor stop her from enlightening them about pediatric care. "I've ended up watching holo shows and playing games with multiple patients of all ages, in order to gain and keep their trust. It's actually a very rewarding thing, knowing the kids look to you as something of a friend or protector."

She moved on to the next subject. "Gaining intravenous access on small children, especially infants, is incredibly difficult for those who don't use the skill on a daily basis. Those little veins are hard to see, tiny, and frequently like to roll away from the needle. In that case - and I've checked with your typical supplies - you have intraosseous needles that can be drilled either by hand or by purpose made drill, into the bone." Madi stopped and picked up a strange, burgundy colored power drill with a rather wicked looking, long plastic and metal needle on the end. She hit the trigger and the drill made a noticeable high pitched burrrr and Madi smiled a little wickedly, like an evil scientist with a surgical instrument. Kix's breath caught, his mind throwing images of her securing him to a bed and holding that thing over him threateningly. She stepped off the podium and handed it to Minder, telling him to pass it around so everyone could see it.

"What you're passing around now, is called the 'Easy IO' on my home planet. It's a purpose made power drill that holds an IO needle on the front by magnet, which makes it far easier to access the bone marrow. You find your appropriate site, hold it steady, hit the trigger, and drill that puppy home. Pop it off the drill, unscrew the top and voila, there is a connection beneath to attach IV tubing to." She paused as she saw Jab playing with the drill, his eyes a little dreamy about using it in the field. "Now, the two biggest problems with IO access is pain and pressure caused by infusing through the marrow, and securement so the line doesn't infiltrate into the surrounding musculature and tissue. That's a bad, bad deal. Down the road you also have to worry about osteomyelitis since placing these are always emergent and not usually the cleanest insertions; however, they can stay in up to 24 hours."

The drill had made it back to Carpal, who was hitting the trigger and watching the needle spin in a fascinated, morbid way. He'd heard everything she'd said; he had his hearing aids in so he could catch all the important information. When he got tired of listening, he would sometimes turn them off and snooze in his chair, so that he looked present, or at least like a body occupying a seat.

"These drills have made placing IOs FAR easier than in the past. Once the only choice was to manually insert the needle, by grasping the patient's leg, holding it as steady as you could, and drilling that wicked thing into the bone by hand. I've seen grown men shaking like leaves while inserting them, knowing they were causing pain but doing their best to help the child in question. And if your hand slipped, you could stab yourself through the back of the patient's leg - it was a rough procedure on everyone involved." She saw multiple clones wince in horror. "So the point is, drills are good, getting access is golden, medicate with a numbing adjunct first thing before you infuse volume or meds of any kind - it truly helps with the pain. Any questions?"

Madi surveyed the room with bright eyes, waiting to see if any were brave enough to ask anything. A few were. They tossed back questions and answers for a good thirty minutes and then were dismissed for a break before their next class. Minder immediately stood to corner the little speaker, to ask her more about her personal interactions with pediatric patients, generating trust between them, and how to cope with some of the harder cases. Kix grumbled in Volte's ear as he walked by “Gonna get her comm codes, watch me! See if I can't make that kitten purr,” he said with a salacious grin. Volte shook his head and kept walking; he imagined the girl had teeth and claws to go with her feisty personality, but he knew Kix was nothing if not persistent and bold.

The clones shuffled along to their next two classes in an upbeat mood; the day was nearly over and while it had been a long one, they'd learned a lot of valuable lessons and new information. They all felt it had been a productive day, and were looking forward to getting out, hitting the bar for drinks and camaraderie and laughs...maybe a pretty girl to flirt with or two. Kix had almost decided Hosnian Prime had no females, and that they'd come to some kind of torturous dating desert. Volte had laughed at his complaints, listening to him whine and grumble about the dearth of ladies to talk to, especially after the pediatrics instructor had turned Kix down hard; the rakish clone was still simmering with angst over his failure to woo the cute lecturer.

The last two lectures dealt with communicable disease and infection prevention. The first, 'Preventing Infections: As Easy As Wash Your Kriffing Hands!', dealt with exactly that - how hand washing was the most simple and expedient way to get microbes off of your skin. First, the man took roll call of every clone in the room by their CT number, making sure all were present. He called Kix's number, "CT 6...1...1...6...," waiting for a reply. When Kix didn't answer immediately, because he was too busy whispering something to Minder, the man repeated his number again in a sonorously boring voice. "CT 6...1...1...6...? No? He's not here?" Minder finally shushed Kix and gestured for him to answer the teacher back, so the man would move on. The speaker then blandly, monotonously explained how it was crucial to clean under fingernails while washing, as very harmful bacteria and viruses could live there as well, waiting like little ninja infection warriors to spread and attack new hosts.

He told horror stories of how some people, now infamous to history, had inadvertently spread diseases among the general populous. There was Dragon Pox Mary, who had been hired as a cook for a wealthy and influential family, and unknowingly spread Dragon Pox to them in their food, because she didn't believe handwashing to be necessary. And there was Nurse Katarina Belforto, who'd unfortunately not washed her hands either, and spread another deadly illness to babies under her care, killing or permanently maiming them. It was surprising that such a small thing as handwashing could be the single answer to saving lives.

The clones all sat back in their seats, many with their arms crossed over their chests, staring back at the utterly dry and boring teacher. The stories were vaguely gruesome and grim, but they couldn't over the speaker's dry, droning, slow way of talking. The instructor reached up halfway through his long session and pushed his thick glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, never looking up from the pages of his notes as he ambled on in his speech. If he'd looked up and chanced a glance at his students, he'd have seen glassy, tired, stunned eyes staring back at him like the empty windows of a vacant home - the men were just that bored by his monotonous drone. A few snorts and snores became softly audible after a few minutes, and Volte saw Whiskey suddenly jerk himself back upright after nearly falling out of his chair, having dozed off to sleep. Kix chuckled quietly and glanced at Volte out of the side of his eyes, his expression practically screaming, 'Holy kriff, this guy is boring!' Thankfully the class finally ended and the men all virtually sprinted from the room to wake up for the final lecture, hoping to get their blood pumping and find enough energy to make it through the homestretch of the day.

When they all filed back in for the final class, the men saw the presenter was a doctor at least a few of them had met before at the Grand Republic Medical Center. "Welcome to the final class of the day, men, 'Communicable Diseases: How to Avoid Them While Sitting in a Small Enclosed Space With Others.'" The men all chuckled a little at the title of the class, glancing to either side at their brothers, fellow prisoners of the current enclosed space.

The lecturer continued on, "I am Doctor Eric Coli, and we will discuss some of the finer points of how diseases can spread so easily in small areas, to some extent due to a lack of handwashing, as my fine colleague Sten Bein covered in his lecture." He paused, seeing the clones' eyes all start to glaze over at even the slightest mention of the previous discussion, and laughed softly. "I know you were all positively riveted by that class...," he said, completely devoid of irony. There were a few titters of laughter and a few murmured comments among the crowd; they knew the doctor was being sarcastic.

The medics all found Dr Coli to be witty and entertaining, as he described the horrors of some diseases and how they could spread like wildfire in small communities. He opened the floor up to take commentary on ideas about containing such contagion, since the clones to a large extent were not well versed in infectious disease. While violence was a disease, trauma on the battlefield was not, and the clones were all healthy, genetically enhanced, illness free men. They generally had no need of education on such subjects. To a man, they got their eyes opened that day.

Dr Coli discussed more than one awful disease, such as colonovirus, a notorious sickness that seemed particularly attracted to cruise ships. Victims found themselves overtaken within hours of exposure with severe vomiting and diarrhea, ideation of death (actually, wishing they could die because they were so miserable), and the urgent need for a refund on their trip. It was a yearly malaise, and had picked up multiple nicknames along the years such as 'The Cruise Ship Disease' or 'Montezuma's Revenge', or 'The Curse of The Out of Order Refresher.' The doctor even laughingly read them a poem he'd written about the awful malady when he himself had contracted it after a pleasure cruise to Naboo.

"Oh colonovirus, why dost thou assaulteth my bowels?

Each day I make offerings to ye gods of the refresher in stool softeners and fiber.

How hast I offended thee?

I pray, oh greatest of calamities, return to the depths of the hell from whence thou climbest!

I shall suffer the slings and arrows of your cursed hold no more.

For I shall defeatest thou by means of moist wipes and the washing of my unworthy hands.

By the power of the warm and comforting bidet, I shall vanquish thee!

The clones were all crying tears of laughter by the final stanza of his "Ode to Colonovirus," and all of the men present for the lecture agreed he'd won the best lecture of the day title, (clean) hands down.

He also covered a nightmare respiratory virus that was somewhat new to the galaxy, which up until recently none had any immunity to. The medics all vaguely recalled hearing about the disease and how the general public had reacted to it. People were barred from standing within six feet of each other. All had to wear masks that covered nose and mouth to prevent exposure to droplets. The general populace at large became terrified of their neighbors, terrified for their families, separated and isolated from any and all people. The galaxy had weathered the awful contagion as best it could, though in the end they were forced to more or less suffer through it until immune systems became well acquainted enough to fight back. Vaccines were created, medications patented, but millions of lives were lost before the disease began to release its vile hold on the galaxy.

The poor doctor had worn something of a haunted look while retelling the experiences of the awful virus. While the clones had been isolated and protected on Kamino, they realized the rest of the galaxy had suffered and died, losing loved ones, friends and family alike, fighting a different sort of war, though just as real as the one the clones were battling. The discussion got very real, very fast, and when the class finally ended, the men left feeling immensely lucky for having coasted right by that plague without any issues.

The sports bar was positively hopping with the raucous energy of the clones, finally freed from class and still brimming with amazement at the displays of the vendors. The new technology coming out had them buzzing, most especially the planned medical - evacuation dropship, complete with six bunks for patients. They could feasibly load a couple more in the floor of the ship, taking eight critically wounded with them on a first run. It had the men dreaming excitedly about the possibilities of saving more brothers from death or permanent maiming, if they could cut their field to treatment time down.

Volte and Kix were holding court at the bar, having shouldered their way in for a place there, and refused to give it up. Kix had pulled Minder in next to him so he could sit at one of the bar stools and rest his leg, while Sawbones stood next to Volte, a keen, watchful eye on the crowd of milling clones as they all chattered away about their classes for the day and whatever free goods they'd been given by the different exhibitors.

Whiskey ambled up, ordering a drink and then settling in next to the small knot of clones he'd taken to hanging out with. He and Sawbones started chatting, raising their bottles in greeting when Quarter strolled up to them.

Excitedly, Quarter asked Whiskey what he thought of the new medical platform. He knew they most likely would never need it on Coruscant, but it was neat to dream about it anyway. "I saw it had respiratory gas hook ups, built in monitoring cables that go to a central monitoring system, and even a suction system!," he burbled on. "That's got to make the forward operating medics happy, having all of those hardwired in."

"Oh heck yeah!," Sawbones grunted in reply. "It will come in handy that's for sure." Saw took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows quirking up at a thought, and mischievous light coming into his hard eyes. "Though that built in suction thing isn't a new idea. Right, Kix?"

Kix looked up when his name was called and said, "Huh? You summoned me?"

"Yeah! I was telling Quarter here that the built in suction system on that evac platform isn't a new idea. Is it, Vod?" Sawbones waggled his eyebrows a little and grinned at Kix in something almost of a leer. There was a story lurking there, which was backed up by the dull blush that crept up Kix's neck into his high cheekbones.

"Not nice, Sawbones," Kix said in a low voice, trying to warn his brother off of telling all his dirty secrets.

"Oh, I think it's completely necessary, don't you Quarter?" Sawbones grinned over at his other batchmate brother and saw him laugh, realizing where Saw was going with this. Kix gave Quarter a withering look, his face moving into a very resigned expression, knowing what was coming.

A small crowd had grown around their little group; somehow people always *knew* when tea was about to be spilled and gravitated toward it. The group had expanded to Scope, a medic serving under Commander Bly and General Secura, Friendly, an outgoing medic that typically patrolled Hutt Space with his battalion, Chance, a very young, red headed clone still working out of Kamino, Siren, Patcher, Patch, Voodoo, and Sentinel, the CMO of the 117th Recon Battalion. All were standing around, eagerly awaiting the gory details of the story about the infamous Kix of Torrent Company as a cadet.

"So, when Kix, Quarter and I were all baby medics back on Kamino, they had us go up on a training mission in one of the newer LA ATs that had some medical revisions. The two old training medics with us - they were like gods, you know? Full of knowledge and experience, untouchable by us shinies." Saw's eyes took on a slightly faraway look as he remembered back to the day in question. "Anyway, so these two clones, Duran and Morrow, take us up and were explaining the different switches and buttons on that particular ship, while we all sat around staring at them like dreamy kids. And I guess Kix looked particularly ripe for this little prank, because they focused on him."

Sawbones laughed ruefully, the memories making it difficult to get it out without giggling maniacally. "They were all, 'So this button is the suction button. When you push that button, it makes the LAAT go up, because this scoop on the bottom drops down, and changes the ship's altitude. Got it?' And Kix man, he was so wide eyed, like some young quivrey, staring back at them like they wore halos and light shone out of their ass.” The men in the group were starting to smile, a few low chuckles breaking out, envisioning the look on Kix's face as he bought this bantha shit story from the salty old medics. All of the men had been there in some way too; they were no strangers to hazing. Kix looked on with a sour expression on his face, though he was starting to smile against his will.

"Duran then goes on to tell Kix and the rest of us, 'So, if you hit the button again to turn off the suction, the ship will drop, because the scoop closed and it's no longer pushing the ship up, got it?' And Kix nods like the good little shiny he was - Vod was completely sold on this karking story," Sawbones laughed gruffly.

“Morrow like, leaned back in his seat and said, 'Okay kid, hit the button *now*, test it out.' And Kix did what he was told. And damned if that LAAT didn’t climb, just like they'd said it would." Saw paused to take a sip of his drink, while everyone shot some looks at Kix, half suspecting what was coming next.

"They had all of us at that point - we'd bought it hook, line and sinker," Quarter interjected with a low chuckle. "Gullible little babies that we were." The group all grinned and giggled, starting to realized what was about to happen.

Whiskey picked the story back up, "So then Duran tells Kix, ' Okay kid, hit the button to turn it off *now*.' Kix is all do do doooo (as Sawbones mimicked a silly kid ambling along cluelessly), hits the button, and then proceeds to scream like a girl as the ship bottomed out, dropping - I kriff you not - at least 500 feet in a second. We were all basically floating in air, zero gravity for a minute, watching our very short lives pass before our eyes, as Duran and Morrow laughed like two gargoyles at the group of shinies pissing themselves in front of them." Sawbones had forced the last sentence out through a stream of gurgling, wheezing laughs, while the rest of the group chuckled and gave Kix patronizing yet sympathetic looks.

"You know, those two karking a-holes never apologized for scaring a few years off our lives. I legitimately thought we were going to die," Kix snarled out, the embarrassing post, near-death experience still stinging. He looked back on it with humor, though he couldn't admit that to the group at hand. Kix saw Volte take a sip of his drink to hide a gleeful smirk, while Quarter chuckled at the memory. Kix gave his batch mate a hard look and sputtered, “Quarter, you've got no room to laugh - you screamed just as loud as I did and I know you had a short run of V tach. I thought we were gonna have to hit you with the paddles!”

Quarter positively giggled. “I can't deny it, they got us good. Those two jokers were some of the best training officers on Kamino. Force knows how they got away with even half of the stuff they did." Quarter shook his head in memory of the unparalleled shenanigans Duran and Morrow were famous for.

"Volte what about you? Got any good stories to tell from serving with the Dragon General?," Voodoo asked. "I heard Echo's first time up with her on that thing, it dove for a vulture droid and he screamed like a child over the open comm channels.” The group started laughing at the mental image of one of the more famous ARC Troopers embarrassing himself in such a way.

Volte chewed on some ice for a minute out of his glass, pondering the question. There were so many stories from Dragon Company, actually, most of which never saw the light of day. General Lin was rather infamous for tomfoolery herself, let alone the stuff she condoned within the ranks. "I wasn't there when that happened - that story was from the Battle of Teth and we weren't a Company yet. But she took Captain Primer up one day with her on that beast of hers, and when they got back he was holding onto her waist with his eyes screwed shut so tight we had to pry him off of her." The group all tittered with chuckles at that; Primer was known to be a brave, completely competent clone commander. They all struggled to imagine him afraid of anything, thought they all thought to a man they'd probably have taken any excuse to get their arms around General Lin if given the chance.

Quarter muttered softly into his glass, "You sure he was holding onto her purely out of fear?" He took a quick sip and then looked at Volte more squarely. "I've heard through the grapevine that he follows her for more reasons than just orders..." He saw Kix grin and gave his vod a wink, while Volte cleared his throat a little loudly and very obviously took a swig of his drink, shooting a quelling look at Quarter.

A new clone had joined the group about midway through the story, named Cheese. He was from the Mist Squad, under the 767 Recon Division, and the man loved anything related to gossip. Photography was a hobby of his, and he like to take group photos of his brothers when the opportunity struck. His eyes were sharp as he listened to the tea pertaining to the infamous General Lin. He suddenly pulled a data pad off his belt and held it up to snap a picture of the group, quickly blurting out "Say Cheese!," as he hit the photo button. The others stared back at him a little blandly; tolerating Cheese's habit was something most were used to by now. He'd already made the rounds through most of the clones getting proof of life many times over. They would soon realize the benefits of having allowed the somewhat socially awkward medic to record the conference in photos; the men would have many images of their brothers enjoying lighthearted moments, camaraderie and fun to look back on. Some of the men he captured in the holographic images on his data pad would not be there the next time the conference came about, and while all knew this, it was an unspoken, dark truth that moved beneath the surface like a cold current of air.

The party rolled on as more clones stuffed themselves into the bar, and Kix's night was made when Madi the young pediatrics lecturer popped up at the bar next to him, a little mischievous smirk on her cute face, one eyebrow arched as she watched Kix's face for a reaction. Volte did a double take at seeing her there, then laughed when he saw Kix's eyes nearly fall out of his head realizing she was there in person, waiting for him to speak to her. Volte looked over at Sawbones and Whiskey and sighed. "Guess I'll be crashing in your room tonight, boys."

A perky, bright voice answered him back from the other side of Kix. "Oh no! I wanted to get to know both of you."

Volte choked on his drink, his eyes going wide as he looked back at the girl in shock. She smiled back impishly.

Sawbones, Whiskey and Quarter all traded glances around, and Sawbones muttered, "We can leave the door unlocked in case you need the two of us to come rescue you at ANY point, Vod." He elbowed Volte and gave him a salacious wink, grumbling "Lucky bastards," as he sipped his drink, watching the trio head off out of the bar. Volte looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide like a prisoner stumbling off to the gallows, unsure of just what he'd suddenly been roped into, but unable to stop his feet from following the sprightly, cute girl leading him by the hand with a cheshire cat grin on her face, as Kix walked beside like a king ascending to his throne.

Credits:

Kix - CT 6116 Medic of Torrent Company, 501st Legion

Volte - CT 2403 Dragon Company CMO, property of CloneMedicKix

Sawbones - CT 2697 Wolfpack CMO, 104th Battalion, property of Wizardofrozz

Quarter - ARC 2525 Republic Intelligence medic, property of Hetalianskywalker

Whiskey - CC 6891 CMO 104th Battalion, property of Banks's-rat

Voodoo - CT 0127 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sev-on-Kamino

Cheese - CT 2437, Medic of Mist Squad, 767 Recon Division, property of Homemade-clones

Friendly - Medic of 387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Chance - CT 5243 Medic of Phoenix Squad, property of The-Bad-Batch-Baroness

Patch - Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sunshinedaydream

Patcher - CT 1110 Coruscant Guard CMO, property of Stargazingbunny

Siren - CT 6161 Coruscant Guard medic, property of 523rdrebel

Sentinel - CT 26-0207, CMO of 117th Recon Battalion, property of Liluthenerd

Scope - CT 4466 Medic of 327th Battalion, property of Mythical Illustrator

Stretcher - CT 3880, Medic of 327th Star Corps, property of A-single-tulip

Heron - Medic of 218th Company, property of King-chaos-world

Jab - Junior medic of Phoenix Company, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Captain Jaro - CT 1926, CMO of 16th Medical Battalion, property of Sweetmugofcocoa

Minder - CT 6334-2 Jedi Medical Company, property of Mythical Illustrator

Carpal - CC 6666 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Mythical Illustrator

Taglist!

@mythical-illustrator @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @moonlightwarriorqueen @523rdrebel @king-chaos-world @starrrgazingbunny @the-bad-batch-baroness @swarovski-yoda @homemade-clones @hetalianskywalker @a-single-tulip @banksys-rat @sev-on-kamino @vodika-vibes @sunshinesdaydream @liluthenerd @sweetmugofcocoa @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @villanousace @theogfulcrum22 @starrylothcat @anxiouspineapple99 @mire-draws-things @cloneloverrrrr @mandos-mind-trick @padawancat97 @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @isthereanechoinhere96 @jediknightjana @wackylurker @starqueensthings @dickarchivist @amorfista @marierg

EMS dividers by MEEEEEEEE!

Final Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

[clonemedickix]

If you want another Medic OC here is Patch of the Corrie guard. Sending in an ask because it seemed kind of long for a message!

Appearance- Slightly outgrown reg hair cut (he is working on growing it out now) he does not modify his hair color. All tattoos are easily concealed. One on either shoulder, one side the Corrie Symbol the other the Medic Symbol. Also an anatomically correct heart on his chest over his own.

Personality- Sweet and outgoing. Can be stern when needed. Loves learning, reads nonfiction for fun. Loves all museums. Will listen to Sharp info dump abut architecture with deep interest. One of the ones that has plans for after the war, he hopes to be able to study to become a doctor. Leads a group of clone volunteers to a children's shelter for orphaned kids found in the lower levels.

Got him!!

[mythical-illustrator]

Ahh Iove all the gossip, them standing around the bar and embarrassing each other . Such good boys

Wash your hands boy, wash them!

The couris definitely have sedated fox more than once.

And what a neat way to talk about our modern issues within the realm of star wars. I do feel like there was definitely things that happened in the galaxy at large they would have all missed out in their little pocket planet cut off from the rest of the galaxy.

Beautiful job and I can't wait to see the rest of the conference.

Woo for kix and volte. Get it 😁

Rating: M

Word count: 7.5K

Pairing: OC Clone Medics

Warnings: Mention of medical trauma, mention of medical procedures, mention of prehospital care and trauma, discussion on pediatric care, alcohol use, implied substance abuse/impairment, implied sexual activity, medical humor, prehospital humor (it's snide y'all, that's the reality)

Excerpt Summary - Day One of the 1st Annual GAR Medic Conference

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First Day: Watch Out For That Drop!

Clones started to file into the appointed lecture room for the first class, finding tables laden with breakfast pastries, cereal and blue milk, large steaming carafes full of caf. There were a lot of bleary-eyed men wandering about, hungover from the previous night of drinking, laughing and story telling at various restaurants and bars. The group was fairly quiet, considering how loud and raucous they'd been the night before, and Volte was secretly feeling quite smug over the rest he'd managed to get before starting classes that morning. It wouldn't last; Kix was not about to agree to another night of simply going to bed. He'd come to party and relive stories, and he wasn't going to let Volte's boring personality drag him down.

Sawbones and Whiskey sauntered into the room, also looking more bright eyed and bushy tailed than most of the others gathered around the table. Sawbones quickly moved to the caf table, giving a few of the younger, hung over clones sharp looks that had them shifting out of his way. He even growled "MOVE!" at one that hadn't gotten the message from his body language. The groggy medic looked up in surprise, blinking as if the light were too hard, saw the grizzled old clone's expression, and quickly moved as ordered.

The first day of classes started with a bang, almost literally. "Advanced Airway Management for Facial Trauma: What To Do When Holes Are Present That Shouldn’t Be" discussed such things as facial trauma from shrapnel wounds, blaster wounds, and stab wounds. The medics were all educated and most, though not all, were seasoned by having been in the field in some capacity. Airway management was always critically important; the C-ABCs were the most crucial steps in first response to save a patient. One of the younger medics, Chance, leaned over to his neighbor, Heron, a medic from the 218th Company, and asked "What do they stand for, again?"

Heron stared at the little shiny brother for a moment wryly, as if wondering why the fresh kid was asking something so obvious, and then muttered back, "Catastrophic Hemorrhage, Airway, Breathing and Circulation."

"Ahhh, thanks, 'Vod," Chance whispered back, flashing him a little smile.

The subject matter and attendant images were pretty harsh for a first-thing-in-the-morning class, but medical people were strange. They could handle looking at evisceration over a plate of spaghetti, or discussing dismemberment and gross bodily functions while eating dinner. An outside observer might wonder what was wrong with these people - how they could be so numb to horrific images - but the men all sat sprawled back and half awake in their chairs, sipping caf and munching on breakfast pastries while listening attentively to the lecturer.

A particularly gruesome image with an attached story was of a nat born civilian injury, in which someone had contrived to shoot them in the face. The front of their jaw and a lot of their lower face was missing, creating an airway nightmare scenario for the medics to ponder. The presenter stopped the class for a moment to take ideas on how the students would secure the patient's airway.

Stretcher, a noticeably taller than average medic with the 327th Star Corps spoke up. "Was the patient breathing on their own? I mean, if they're getting air, maybe just support, scoop and run."

The lecturer nodded, saying, "That's one idea. Any others?"

Volte leaned forward a bit and spoke up. "Intubate the patient. Follow the bubbles - where the patient's breath meets blood there will be bubbles and that should identify the airway. Secure it with a laryngoscope blade and pop a tube in there, because there's no guarantee how long they'll be conscious enough to keep breathing on their own, no matter how fast you run."

"Good, very good. Following the bubbles is a legitimate method. Would you use a facial mask over a patient like this?," the teacher asked.

Heads shook to say no. Bagging a patient like that would cause the remaining airway, teeth and tongue structures to collapse and further occlude the airway. It would be a disaster without proper jaw thrust to keep the tongue from falling back over the trachea; better to use a high flow face mask until real securement was in place.

"Very good, class. Any other suggestions?," the lecturer asked. This was the last discussion portion of his class and always generated some good feedback.

Once again, Volte spoke up. "One could always place a surgical airway, bypassing the entire upper trachea and the wounded area, but there's also a couple of types of airway adjuncts from my General's home planet, called the Combitube and King Airway. They're a blind intubation method - they can end up in the esophagus and yet still provide oxygenation and ventilation because of the position of their side holes. They were designed for things like this, when you have to just stuff the tube in blindly and hope for the best."

"That's very interesting. Have you used these tools, or seen them in real life?" The instructor seemed quite intrigued; this whole convention was about teaching new methods, updating education and showing off new technology. He'd love to get his hands on these tools being discussed.

"I have seen the King Airway, used it in fact. My General has brought us several implements from her home world to use in the field. I've found they help a lot - cut down a lot of the time to treatment element and help us get the wounded off the field quicker." Volte held up his data pad. "I've got some images stored on my data pad I can show you."

Kix coughed loudly and covered his mouth as he gasped out, "Be sure it's not the pinup pictures!" Several men heard him and chuckled as Volte looked over at him with a disgusted grunt and elbowed Kix in the ribs.

Volte snapped back something he'd heard General Lin say in jest when telling a trooper to shut it and leave. "Get thee gone Satan, or I will smite thee with my data pad and tape your mouth shut with conduit tape." Kix chuckled and walked out the door to stretch his legs while Volte and the instructor had their nerd moment over the airway adjuncts.

The class emptied out for a break before the next session started, "Rapid Sedation: How to Restrain Your Patient in Fives Seconds Without the Use of Conduit Tape." As the men trickled back in from the refresher and more caf, Volte and Kix grabbed seats near their little core group, seeing all of the Corries clumping together as well. Sedating patients was always a topic of discussion and sometimes jokes with medics, especially the Coruscant Guard, who as a general rule had to contend with the element of drunk partygoers or recreational substance use on all levels of the Capital ecumenopolus. Even the rich, famous and Senatorial types weren't innocent of the occasional dalliance.

To everyone's surprise, the speaker was an old nat born training medic from Kamino, famous for her assertive, indomitable will, her small stature and fierce eyes, nicknamed 'Pockets'. Few patients or students ever crossed her, afraid of seeing the wrath boiling in her cool blue eyes. Pockets was small, but a hurricane-like force of nature, and those who'd challenged her in the wild always found she was ever ready to sidestep the battle with a quick stab of a needle in a well placed muscle. She was not there to play games, she'd say. Pockets was there to help, even if it meant taking you out of the picture so she could do her job.

The group of clones were fascinated that such a small female could do so much with so little; the men were all no shorter than six foot two, give or take a couple inches either way. It was a rare day when someone out of their head challenged them, but it still happened occasionally, and every clone to a man believed that little Pockets would have a bull reek fully immobilized in less than five minutes, by herself. Sawbones gleefully imagined her strapping him to a bed with tape and having her way with him - he liked bullheaded, assertive girls that didn't back down.

"There are hundreds of medications spanning the range of emergency antipsychotic medications to straight sedation and pain classes, which can also serve the same purpose. In extreme cases, where a patient's psychosis or high goes too far and they require the aid of us assisting breathing, a small cocktail is required." Pockets paused, glancing around the room at her attentive audience. They were all breathtakingly handsome, and their dark eyes blinking back at her wiped her train of thought for a second. She cleared her throat, grasping at the threads of her lecture once more. "It was actually developed for the use of sedating and securing the airway of mothers in obstetrical distress, needing immediate surgical delivery and a patient airway. Given in the appropriate order and dose, the treatment team was able to knock the patient out without causing them to vomit reflexively, putting the airway at risk due to aspiration.” Pockets took a quick breath and then finished by saying, “So thank the next pregnant lady you see for rapid sedation protocols- they did you a favor.”

The lecture continued on in the same vein, as she covered the different medications, a short blurb about their history and pharmacology, pharmacokinetics, dosing and route of administration. She covered a few medications that could be given without intravenous access, which still had to be injected. "Sometimes, it's just satisfying to stab a truly unruly patient with a needle and watch them finally hit the wall of sleep. Definitely more humane than what one former partner of mine did. He used every roll of conduit tape in the ship to mummify the patient to the spine board after the guy decked me. I fell out the back of the ship, which was thankfully still on the platform, and really cracked my head hard. My partner didn't take too kindly to that, and since we had a trainee aboard, he and the newbie wrapped that guy head to toe with the tape to hold him down and keep him from hurting anyone else. They left his eyes, mouth and nose free of course, but it's safe to say the guy got a free waxing he didn't plan for when he started his day."

Pockets retold the story with a pretty neutral tone, though her eyes glimmered a bit with laughter. To some, the story probably seemed a little hard on the patient, but to others, like the Corries, it was all too familiar, recalling the many times some patients were less respectful, kind and cooperative, bordering more on the side of unsafe and dangerous to the medics and their crew. No medical crew should ever have to fear for their lives for simply trying to help a person. The forward operating medics all shot glances at the Corries, knowing this was more in their realm of expertise; it was rare that a wounded man in the field acted with such abandon and violence toward their medical officers. Sure, they could and would use the knowledge gained from this class to better care for their brothers, but they didn't plan on having to sedate them for behavioral issues. Now, doing it as a prank... that conduit tape mummification gag sounded pretty attractive to several of them, eyeing their neighbor a little mischievously or thinking of a certain brother they'd love to see strapped to a board. A few day dreams included visions of toting said brother around the base while still taped on the backboard, leaning him against the wall like he was nothing more than a curious object while continuing on blissfully with their lives...

Jab, a junior medic attached to Phoenix Company, chuckled softly and murmured to his neighbor, Captain Jaro of the 16th Medical Battalion, "Those injectable sedatives would be fun to carry in some of our autoinjectors. Can you imagine? Guy gets rowdy and you're like, 'Calm down or you're gonna get a poke.' Guy keeps fighting, 'One, two... stabby stab.'" He chuckled again; he was notorious for giving meds off count - it always took the men by surprise, as they trusted him enough to believe he would get to three before poking them, but no, not Jab. He believed in getting the negative stuff over with as quickly as possible.

The Corries as usual were all sitting together in a group, and Voodoo leaned over to Patcher, saying, "So, this means we're completely justified in sedating unruly supervisors that don't take care of themselves too, right?"

Patch laughed and answered back, "I'm not sure what YOU did was necessarily within the protocols, but justified? ...Maybe..."

Siren fixed Voodoo with a stern look and said, "Fox completely deserved what you did! If he wasn't going to look after himself, it's the medic's job to do so. When it comes to the health of the troopers, the medic is in charge."

Voodoo grinned back at the support of his brothers. Their Marshall Commander, Fox, had a bad tendency to work himself to death and refuse food and sleep until whatever obsession was on his plate was taken care of. When Voodoo was still somewhat new to the Coruscant Guard, he'd seen the man get particularly haggard and ground down after a long hitch of watching Senators for some big wig meeting in the Capital. When the rest of the men started to complain about how short tempered, hangry and down right bitchy Fox was getting, Voodoo decided to take matters into his own hands. He made a pretense to visit Fox in his office, moved to look at something over Fox's shoulder, and quickly stabbed him in the neck with an autoinjector of sedatives.

Fox had reacted like a snake bit him, shooting out of his desk chair with a strangled, "What in karking HELL did you just give...me..." as he crumpled to the floor and immediately drew in a stuporous snore.

Voodoo stood over him with triumphant grin, then hailed Thorn over his comm device to come help him get the Commander to some place more comfortable than the floor. When Fox woke up two days later, he found a warm, nutritious breakfast spread on the table next to him, as well as a note from Voodoo that simply stated, "And I'd do it again."

When the class broke up, the men all wandered off to find lunch. They had a good while before the next class started, so some of the medics headed back to their rooms to relax, nap, read a book, watch some holo net. Kix and Volte left the convention center to walk down the street, in search of food they hadn't tried as yet; they didn't want to burn out on hotel food when there were small Hosnian Prime native shops within reach to try.

The after lunch program started off with one of the most taboo and terrifying subjects in the medical world: pediatrics. As a general rule, most people were afraid to treat children. They often approached that patient population with the attitude of 'children are just small adults', and 'a silent kid is a dead kid, but a loud kid is annoying.' About the only medic actually excited to attend the class was Minder, who ambled in quickly, found a spot on the front row of the class, and waited eagerly for the speaker to climb the dais. Volte and Kix decided to sit just behind their friend; they didn't want to seem too excited about the topic.

Volte was wary of kids, but wasn't averse to treating them. His General, in fact, kept a job on her home world of treating children hospitalized for various illnesses, and had told him many times of long term patients she'd gotten to know. She seemed to hold a real affection for small patients and always patiently imparted tips to Volte on how to get on their level, gain their trust so that treating them was easier. General Lin always asserted firmly that treating kids was FAR better than dealing with adults, hands down.

There were low chuckles, murmuring, and a few gasps when the presenter climbed up to the podium. The instructor was a small, sprightly young woman, dressed in a costume that looked like a cat, whiskers drawn on her face, with little pointed ears sticking out of her curly hair, and a long tail trailing behind her. She placed a small sheaf of papers on the lectern and looked up at her audience, seeing hundreds of wide, amused to shocked brown eyes staring back.

"Howdy! Welcome to 'How to Approach Younglings: They're Not Armed Bombs.' I’m Madi, and this lecture is going to contain a lot of personal experience, maybe even some tips you might find helpful in the future. The biggest take away I want you to learn is that kids don't have to be terrifying. They're all unique, fiercely brave little souls that will all make a mark on you in some way, most likely permanently. You'll never forget these little patients going forward, especially if you are lucky enough to form a bond with them."

Volte and Kix had both sat up to attention when they saw the speaker’s attire, and Kix looked over at Volte with an amused expression. Her costume was very telling; it left little to the imagination about her form and figure. Kix was staring guilelessly at the woman, amazed that she had the spirit and courage to appear before a room full of single, handsome rakish men dressed as a sexy cat; he was salivating over the thought of getting her comm channel numbers. Volte was simply trying to look attentive and interested for the speaker. Sawbones leaned forward to mutter in Volte's ear, "I'll definitely never forget her wearing that outfit, going forward..."

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to dress up like a cat for you. Let me tell you why, because it certainly wasn't to feed your filthy imaginations." Madi squinted at Sawbones knowingly; she'd seen him say something to Volte that had made the medic shift in his seat uncomfortably. "On my home world, medical professionals that specialize in children often dress up for different occasions, because wonder and imagination are both so important to a child. There is a whole day dedicated to dressing up as someone or something else for fun, and going around asking for candy from adults. At the facility I work at, we have a party on a sky bridge, where all the medical workers dress up for the children, to hand out candy and toys." Madi paused to see more of the clones were intrigued at the thought of her interacting with child patients on some distant planet, dressed up for the part in some tantalizing costume or other.

"Another important thing to remember about kids - they're not just small adults. A child's body is not mature; it's still going through a very complicated growth pattern, as is their mind. It's important to know the different developmental stages for a child, so you know how to interact with them appropriately. For instance, a toddler may hate you on sight, regardless of what you do, because it's within their developmental stage to be afraid of strangers. If you luck out enough to land on a character they're familiar with, you might be able to approach them more easily. Otherwise, you might just be in for a small rodeo."

Volte heard Voodoo mumble, "The kriff is a 'rodeo'?" This was something Volte had a lot of experience with; people were generally confused at many of the quips his General said in the course of a conversation. Even her own men were often forced to make her clarify what she was talking about, and would remind her “Basic... General. Basic." So it made Volte smile a bit seeing General Lin wasn’t the only person who needed a translator for their little euphemisms.

Madi looked at Voodoo a little dryly and huffed out, "Rodeo = wrestling match, same thing."

Sawbones laughed darkly and muttered, "I'd wrestle with her any day, and she can call it whatever she likes."

Rolling her eyes slightly at the male commentary, she continued on, outlining the different stages of mental and emotional development for children, then discussed multiple physical changes that occurred with growth. She wasn't to let their locker room humor stop her from enlightening them about pediatric care. "I've ended up watching holo shows and playing games with multiple patients of all ages, in order to gain and keep their trust. It's actually a very rewarding thing, knowing the kids look to you as something of a friend or protector."

She moved on to the next subject. "Gaining intravenous access on small children, especially infants, is incredibly difficult for those who don't use the skill on a daily basis. Those little veins are hard to see, tiny, and frequently like to roll away from the needle. In that case - and I've checked with your typical supplies - you have intraosseous needles that can be drilled either by hand or by purpose made drill, into the bone." Madi stopped and picked up a strange, burgundy colored power drill with a rather wicked looking, long plastic and metal needle on the end. She hit the trigger and the drill made a noticeable high pitched burrrr and Madi smiled a little wickedly, like an evil scientist with a surgical instrument. Kix's breath caught, his mind throwing images of her securing him to a bed and holding that thing over him threateningly. She stepped off the podium and handed it to Minder, telling him to pass it around so everyone could see it.

"What you're passing around now, is called the 'Easy IO' on my home planet. It's a purpose made power drill that holds an IO needle on the front by magnet, which makes it far easier to access the bone marrow. You find your appropriate site, hold it steady, hit the trigger, and drill that puppy home. Pop it off the drill, unscrew the top and voila, there is a connection beneath to attach IV tubing to." She paused as she saw Jab playing with the drill, his eyes a little dreamy about using it in the field. "Now, the two biggest problems with IO access is pain and pressure caused by infusing through the marrow, and securement so the line doesn't infiltrate into the surrounding musculature and tissue. That's a bad, bad deal. Down the road you also have to worry about osteomyelitis since placing these are always emergent and not usually the cleanest insertions; however, they can stay in up to 24 hours."

The drill had made it back to Carpal, who was hitting the trigger and watching the needle spin in a fascinated, morbid way. He'd heard everything she'd said; he had his hearing aids in so he could catch all the important information. When he got tired of listening, he would sometimes turn them off and snooze in his chair, so that he looked present, or at least like a body occupying a seat.

"These drills have made placing IOs FAR easier than in the past. Once the only choice was to manually insert the needle, by grasping the patient's leg, holding it as steady as you could, and drilling that wicked thing into the bone by hand. I've seen grown men shaking like leaves while inserting them, knowing they were causing pain but doing their best to help the child in question. And if your hand slipped, you could stab yourself through the back of the patient's leg - it was a rough procedure on everyone involved." She saw multiple clones wince in horror. "So the point is, drills are good, getting access is golden, medicate with a numbing adjunct first thing before you infuse volume or meds of any kind - it truly helps with the pain. Any questions?"

Madi surveyed the room with bright eyes, waiting to see if any were brave enough to ask anything. A few were. They tossed back questions and answers for a good thirty minutes and then were dismissed for a break before their next class. Minder immediately stood to corner the little speaker, to ask her more about her personal interactions with pediatric patients, generating trust between them, and how to cope with some of the harder cases. Kix grumbled in Volte's ear as he walked by “Gonna get her comm codes, watch me! See if I can't make that kitten purr,” he said with a salacious grin. Volte shook his head and kept walking; he imagined the girl had teeth and claws to go with her feisty personality, but he knew Kix was nothing if not persistent and bold.

The clones shuffled along to their next two classes in an upbeat mood; the day was nearly over and while it had been a long one, they'd learned a lot of valuable lessons and new information. They all felt it had been a productive day, and were looking forward to getting out, hitting the bar for drinks and camaraderie and laughs...maybe a pretty girl to flirt with or two. Kix had almost decided Hosnian Prime had no females, and that they'd come to some kind of torturous dating desert. Volte had laughed at his complaints, listening to him whine and grumble about the dearth of ladies to talk to, especially after the pediatrics instructor had turned Kix down hard; the rakish clone was still simmering with angst over his failure to woo the cute lecturer.

The last two lectures dealt with communicable disease and infection prevention. The first, 'Preventing Infections: As Easy As Wash Your Kriffing Hands!', dealt with exactly that - how hand washing was the most simple and expedient way to get microbes off of your skin. First, the man took roll call of every clone in the room by their CT number, making sure all were present. He called Kix's number, "CT 6...1...1...6...," waiting for a reply. When Kix didn't answer immediately, because he was too busy whispering something to Minder, the man repeated his number again in a sonorously boring voice. "CT 6...1...1...6...? No? He's not here?" Minder finally shushed Kix and gestured for him to answer the teacher back, so the man would move on. The speaker then blandly, monotonously explained how it was crucial to clean under fingernails while washing, as very harmful bacteria and viruses could live there as well, waiting like little ninja infection warriors to spread and attack new hosts.

He told horror stories of how some people, now infamous to history, had inadvertently spread diseases among the general populous. There was Dragon Pox Mary, who had been hired as a cook for a wealthy and influential family, and unknowingly spread Dragon Pox to them in their food, because she didn't believe handwashing to be necessary. And there was Nurse Katarina Belforto, who'd unfortunately not washed her hands either, and spread another deadly illness to babies under her care, killing or permanently maiming them. It was surprising that such a small thing as handwashing could be the single answer to saving lives.

The clones all sat back in their seats, many with their arms crossed over their chests, staring back at the utterly dry and boring teacher. The stories were vaguely gruesome and grim, but they couldn't over the speaker's dry, droning, slow way of talking. The instructor reached up halfway through his long session and pushed his thick glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, never looking up from the pages of his notes as he ambled on in his speech. If he'd looked up and chanced a glance at his students, he'd have seen glassy, tired, stunned eyes staring back at him like the empty windows of a vacant home - the men were just that bored by his monotonous drone. A few snorts and snores became softly audible after a few minutes, and Volte saw Whiskey suddenly jerk himself back upright after nearly falling out of his chair, having dozed off to sleep. Kix chuckled quietly and glanced at Volte out of the side of his eyes, his expression practically screaming, 'Holy kriff, this guy is boring!' Thankfully the class finally ended and the men all virtually sprinted from the room to wake up for the final lecture, hoping to get their blood pumping and find enough energy to make it through the homestretch of the day.

When they all filed back in for the final class, the men saw the presenter was a doctor at least a few of them had met before at the Grand Republic Medical Center. "Welcome to the final class of the day, men, 'Communicable Diseases: How to Avoid Them While Sitting in a Small Enclosed Space With Others.'" The men all chuckled a little at the title of the class, glancing to either side at their brothers, fellow prisoners of the current enclosed space.

The lecturer continued on, "I am Doctor Eric Coli, and we will discuss some of the finer points of how diseases can spread so easily in small areas, to some extent due to a lack of handwashing, as my fine colleague Sten Bein covered in his lecture." He paused, seeing the clones' eyes all start to glaze over at even the slightest mention of the previous discussion, and laughed softly. "I know you were all positively riveted by that class...," he said, completely devoid of irony. There were a few titters of laughter and a few murmured comments among the crowd; they knew the doctor was being sarcastic.

The medics all found Dr Coli to be witty and entertaining, as he described the horrors of some diseases and how they could spread like wildfire in small communities. He opened the floor up to take commentary on ideas about containing such contagion, since the clones to a large extent were not well versed in infectious disease. While violence was a disease, trauma on the battlefield was not, and the clones were all healthy, genetically enhanced, illness free men. They generally had no need of education on such subjects. To a man, they got their eyes opened that day.

Dr Coli discussed more than one awful disease, such as colonovirus, a notorious sickness that seemed particularly attracted to cruise ships. Victims found themselves overtaken within hours of exposure with severe vomiting and diarrhea, ideation of death (actually, wishing they could die because they were so miserable), and the urgent need for a refund on their trip. It was a yearly malaise, and had picked up multiple nicknames along the years such as 'The Cruise Ship Disease' or 'Montezuma's Revenge', or 'The Curse of The Out of Order Refresher.' The doctor even laughingly read them a poem he'd written about the awful malady when he himself had contracted it after a pleasure cruise to Naboo.

"Oh colonovirus, why dost thou assaulteth my bowels?

Each day I make offerings to ye gods of the refresher in stool softeners and fiber.

How hast I offended thee?

I pray, oh greatest of calamities, return to the depths of the hell from whence thou climbest!

I shall suffer the slings and arrows of your cursed hold no more.

For I shall defeatest thou by means of moist wipes and the washing of my unworthy hands.

By the power of the warm and comforting bidet, I shall vanquish thee!

The clones were all crying tears of laughter by the final stanza of his "Ode to Colonovirus," and all of the men present for the lecture agreed he'd won the best lecture of the day title, (clean) hands down.

He also covered a nightmare respiratory virus that was somewhat new to the galaxy, which up until recently none had any immunity to. The medics all vaguely recalled hearing about the disease and how the general public had reacted to it. People were barred from standing within six feet of each other. All had to wear masks that covered nose and mouth to prevent exposure to droplets. The general populace at large became terrified of their neighbors, terrified for their families, separated and isolated from any and all people. The galaxy had weathered the awful contagion as best it could, though in the end they were forced to more or less suffer through it until immune systems became well acquainted enough to fight back. Vaccines were created, medications patented, but millions of lives were lost before the disease began to release its vile hold on the galaxy.

The poor doctor had worn something of a haunted look while retelling the experiences of the awful virus. While the clones had been isolated and protected on Kamino, they realized the rest of the galaxy had suffered and died, losing loved ones, friends and family alike, fighting a different sort of war, though just as real as the one the clones were battling. The discussion got very real, very fast, and when the class finally ended, the men left feeling immensely lucky for having coasted right by that plague without any issues.

The sports bar was positively hopping with the raucous energy of the clones, finally freed from class and still brimming with amazement at the displays of the vendors. The new technology coming out had them buzzing, most especially the planned medical - evacuation dropship, complete with six bunks for patients. They could feasibly load a couple more in the floor of the ship, taking eight critically wounded with them on a first run. It had the men dreaming excitedly about the possibilities of saving more brothers from death or permanent maiming, if they could cut their field to treatment time down.

Volte and Kix were holding court at the bar, having shouldered their way in for a place there, and refused to give it up. Kix had pulled Minder in next to him so he could sit at one of the bar stools and rest his leg, while Sawbones stood next to Volte, a keen, watchful eye on the crowd of milling clones as they all chattered away about their classes for the day and whatever free goods they'd been given by the different exhibitors.

Whiskey ambled up, ordering a drink and then settling in next to the small knot of clones he'd taken to hanging out with. He and Sawbones started chatting, raising their bottles in greeting when Quarter strolled up to them.

Excitedly, Quarter asked Whiskey what he thought of the new medical platform. He knew they most likely would never need it on Coruscant, but it was neat to dream about it anyway. "I saw it had respiratory gas hook ups, built in monitoring cables that go to a central monitoring system, and even a suction system!," he burbled on. "That's got to make the forward operating medics happy, having all of those hardwired in."

"Oh heck yeah!," Sawbones grunted in reply. "It will come in handy that's for sure." Saw took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows quirking up at a thought, and mischievous light coming into his hard eyes. "Though that built in suction thing isn't a new idea. Right, Kix?"

Kix looked up when his name was called and said, "Huh? You summoned me?"

"Yeah! I was telling Quarter here that the built in suction system on that evac platform isn't a new idea. Is it, Vod?" Sawbones waggled his eyebrows a little and grinned at Kix in something almost of a leer. There was a story lurking there, which was backed up by the dull blush that crept up Kix's neck into his high cheekbones.

"Not nice, Sawbones," Kix said in a low voice, trying to warn his brother off of telling all his dirty secrets.

"Oh, I think it's completely necessary, don't you Quarter?" Sawbones grinned over at his other batchmate brother and saw him laugh, realizing where Saw was going with this. Kix gave Quarter a withering look, his face moving into a very resigned expression, knowing what was coming.

A small crowd had grown around their little group; somehow people always *knew* when tea was about to be spilled and gravitated toward it. The group had expanded to Scope, a medic serving under Commander Bly and General Secura, Friendly, an outgoing medic that typically patrolled Hutt Space with his battalion, Chance, a very young, red headed clone still working out of Kamino, Siren, Patcher, Patch, Voodoo, and Sentinel, the CMO of the 117th Recon Battalion. All were standing around, eagerly awaiting the gory details of the story about the infamous Kix of Torrent Company as a cadet.

"So, when Kix, Quarter and I were all baby medics back on Kamino, they had us go up on a training mission in one of the newer LA ATs that had some medical revisions. The two old training medics with us - they were like gods, you know? Full of knowledge and experience, untouchable by us shinies." Saw's eyes took on a slightly faraway look as he remembered back to the day in question. "Anyway, so these two clones, Duran and Morrow, take us up and were explaining the different switches and buttons on that particular ship, while we all sat around staring at them like dreamy kids. And I guess Kix looked particularly ripe for this little prank, because they focused on him."

Sawbones laughed ruefully, the memories making it difficult to get it out without giggling maniacally. "They were all, 'So this button is the suction button. When you push that button, it makes the LAAT go up, because this scoop on the bottom drops down, and changes the ship's altitude. Got it?' And Kix man, he was so wide eyed, like some young quivrey, staring back at them like they wore halos and light shone out of their ass.” The men in the group were starting to smile, a few low chuckles breaking out, envisioning the look on Kix's face as he bought this bantha shit story from the salty old medics. All of the men had been there in some way too; they were no strangers to hazing. Kix looked on with a sour expression on his face, though he was starting to smile against his will.

"Duran then goes on to tell Kix and the rest of us, 'So, if you hit the button again to turn off the suction, the ship will drop, because the scoop closed and it's no longer pushing the ship up, got it?' And Kix nods like the good little shiny he was - Vod was completely sold on this karking story," Sawbones laughed gruffly.

“Morrow like, leaned back in his seat and said, 'Okay kid, hit the button *now*, test it out.' And Kix did what he was told. And damned if that LAAT didn’t climb, just like they'd said it would." Saw paused to take a sip of his drink, while everyone shot some looks at Kix, half suspecting what was coming next.

"They had all of us at that point - we'd bought it hook, line and sinker," Quarter interjected with a low chuckle. "Gullible little babies that we were." The group all grinned and giggled, starting to realized what was about to happen.

Whiskey picked the story back up, "So then Duran tells Kix, ' Okay kid, hit the button to turn it off *now*.' Kix is all do do doooo (as Sawbones mimicked a silly kid ambling along cluelessly), hits the button, and then proceeds to scream like a girl as the ship bottomed out, dropping - I kriff you not - at least 500 feet in a second. We were all basically floating in air, zero gravity for a minute, watching our very short lives pass before our eyes, as Duran and Morrow laughed like two gargoyles at the group of shinies pissing themselves in front of them." Sawbones had forced the last sentence out through a stream of gurgling, wheezing laughs, while the rest of the group chuckled and gave Kix patronizing yet sympathetic looks.

"You know, those two karking a-holes never apologized for scaring a few years off our lives. I legitimately thought we were going to die," Kix snarled out, the embarrassing post, near-death experience still stinging. He looked back on it with humor, though he couldn't admit that to the group at hand. Kix saw Volte take a sip of his drink to hide a gleeful smirk, while Quarter chuckled at the memory. Kix gave his batch mate a hard look and sputtered, “Quarter, you've got no room to laugh - you screamed just as loud as I did and I know you had a short run of V tach. I thought we were gonna have to hit you with the paddles!”

Quarter positively giggled. “I can't deny it, they got us good. Those two jokers were some of the best training officers on Kamino. Force knows how they got away with even half of the stuff they did." Quarter shook his head in memory of the unparalleled shenanigans Duran and Morrow were famous for.

"Volte what about you? Got any good stories to tell from serving with the Dragon General?," Voodoo asked. "I heard Echo's first time up with her on that thing, it dove for a vulture droid and he screamed like a child over the open comm channels.” The group started laughing at the mental image of one of the more famous ARC Troopers embarrassing himself in such a way.

Volte chewed on some ice for a minute out of his glass, pondering the question. There were so many stories from Dragon Company, actually, most of which never saw the light of day. General Lin was rather infamous for tomfoolery herself, let alone the stuff she condoned within the ranks. "I wasn't there when that happened - that story was from the Battle of Teth and we weren't a Company yet. But she took Captain Primer up one day with her on that beast of hers, and when they got back he was holding onto her waist with his eyes screwed shut so tight we had to pry him off of her." The group all tittered with chuckles at that; Primer was known to be a brave, completely competent clone commander. They all struggled to imagine him afraid of anything, thought they all thought to a man they'd probably have taken any excuse to get their arms around General Lin if given the chance.

Quarter muttered softly into his glass, "You sure he was holding onto her purely out of fear?" He took a quick sip and then looked at Volte more squarely. "I've heard through the grapevine that he follows her for more reasons than just orders..." He saw Kix grin and gave his vod a wink, while Volte cleared his throat a little loudly and very obviously took a swig of his drink, shooting a quelling look at Quarter.

A new clone had joined the group about midway through the story, named Cheese. He was from the Mist Squad, under the 767 Recon Division, and the man loved anything related to gossip. Photography was a hobby of his, and he like to take group photos of his brothers when the opportunity struck. His eyes were sharp as he listened to the tea pertaining to the infamous General Lin. He suddenly pulled a data pad off his belt and held it up to snap a picture of the group, quickly blurting out "Say Cheese!," as he hit the photo button. The others stared back at him a little blandly; tolerating Cheese's habit was something most were used to by now. He'd already made the rounds through most of the clones getting proof of life many times over. They would soon realize the benefits of having allowed the somewhat socially awkward medic to record the conference in photos; the men would have many images of their brothers enjoying lighthearted moments, camaraderie and fun to look back on. Some of the men he captured in the holographic images on his data pad would not be there the next time the conference came about, and while all knew this, it was an unspoken, dark truth that moved beneath the surface like a cold current of air.

The party rolled on as more clones stuffed themselves into the bar, and Kix's night was made when Madi the young pediatrics lecturer popped up at the bar next to him, a little mischievous smirk on her cute face, one eyebrow arched as she watched Kix's face for a reaction. Volte did a double take at seeing her there, then laughed when he saw Kix's eyes nearly fall out of his head realizing she was there in person, waiting for him to speak to her. Volte looked over at Sawbones and Whiskey and sighed. "Guess I'll be crashing in your room tonight, boys."

A perky, bright voice answered him back from the other side of Kix. "Oh no! I wanted to get to know both of you."

Volte choked on his drink, his eyes going wide as he looked back at the girl in shock. She smiled back impishly.

Sawbones, Whiskey and Quarter all traded glances around, and Sawbones muttered, "We can leave the door unlocked in case you need the two of us to come rescue you at ANY point, Vod." He elbowed Volte and gave him a salacious wink, grumbling "Lucky bastards," as he sipped his drink, watching the trio head off out of the bar. Volte looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide like a prisoner stumbling off to the gallows, unsure of just what he'd suddenly been roped into, but unable to stop his feet from following the sprightly, cute girl leading him by the hand with a cheshire cat grin on her face, as Kix walked beside like a king ascending to his throne.

Credits:

Kix - CT 6116 Medic of Torrent Company, 501st Legion

Volte - CT 2403 Dragon Company CMO, property of CloneMedicKix

Sawbones - CT 2697 Wolfpack CMO, 104th Battalion, property of Wizardofrozz

Quarter - ARC 2525 Republic Intelligence medic, property of Hetalianskywalker

Whiskey - CC 6891 CMO 104th Battalion, property of Banks's-rat

Voodoo - CT 0127 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sev-on-Kamino

Cheese - CT 2437, Medic of Mist Squad, 767 Recon Division, property of Homemade-clones

Friendly - Medic of 387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Chance - CT 5243 Medic of Phoenix Squad, property of The-Bad-Batch-Baroness

Patch - Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sunshinedaydream

Patcher - CT 1110 Coruscant Guard CMO, property of Stargazingbunny

Siren - CT 6161 Coruscant Guard medic, property of 523rdrebel

Sentinel - CT 26-0207, CMO of 117th Recon Battalion, property of Liluthenerd

Scope - CT 4466 Medic of 327th Battalion, property of Mythical Illustrator

Stretcher - CT 3880, Medic of 327th Star Corps, property of A-single-tulip

Heron - Medic of 218th Company, property of King-chaos-world

Jab - Junior medic of Phoenix Company, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Captain Jaro - CT 1926, CMO of 16th Medical Battalion, property of Sweetmugofcocoa

Minder - CT 6334-2 Jedi Medical Company, property of Mythical Illustrator

Carpal - CC 6666 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Mythical Illustrator

Taglist!

@mythical-illustrator @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @moonlightwarriorqueen @523rdrebel @king-chaos-world @starrrgazingbunny @the-bad-batch-baroness @swarovski-yoda @homemade-clones @hetalianskywalker @a-single-tulip @banksys-rat @sev-on-kamino @vodika-vibes @sunshinesdaydream @liluthenerd @sweetmugofcocoa @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @villanousace @theogfulcrum22 @starrylothcat @anxiouspineapple99 @mire-draws-things @cloneloverrrrr @mandos-mind-trick @padawancat97 @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @isthereanechoinhere96 @jediknightjana @wackylurker @starqueensthings @dickarchivist @amorfista @marierg

EMS dividers by MEEEEEEEE!

Final Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

[sev-on-kamino]

I love all of this but Pockets is my favorite!!! I just love feisty older women who are lil legends!!! 🤩🤩🤩

Also that story from Kix’s and Sawbones’s shiny days sent me to the upper rooms!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣

I’m loving this medical conference so much 😆 I feel like I’m actually there and it’s so fun. Also educational 👀

Rating: M

Word count: 7.5K

Pairing: OC Clone Medics

Warnings: Mention of medical trauma, mention of medical procedures, mention of prehospital care and trauma, discussion on pediatric care, alcohol use, implied substance abuse/impairment, implied sexual activity, medical humor, prehospital humor (it's snide y'all, that's the reality)

Excerpt Summary - Day One of the 1st Annual GAR Medic Conference

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First Day: Watch Out For That Drop!

Clones started to file into the appointed lecture room for the first class, finding tables laden with breakfast pastries, cereal and blue milk, large steaming carafes full of caf. There were a lot of bleary-eyed men wandering about, hungover from the previous night of drinking, laughing and story telling at various restaurants and bars. The group was fairly quiet, considering how loud and raucous they'd been the night before, and Volte was secretly feeling quite smug over the rest he'd managed to get before starting classes that morning. It wouldn't last; Kix was not about to agree to another night of simply going to bed. He'd come to party and relive stories, and he wasn't going to let Volte's boring personality drag him down.

Sawbones and Whiskey sauntered into the room, also looking more bright eyed and bushy tailed than most of the others gathered around the table. Sawbones quickly moved to the caf table, giving a few of the younger, hung over clones sharp looks that had them shifting out of his way. He even growled "MOVE!" at one that hadn't gotten the message from his body language. The groggy medic looked up in surprise, blinking as if the light were too hard, saw the grizzled old clone's expression, and quickly moved as ordered.

The first day of classes started with a bang, almost literally. "Advanced Airway Management for Facial Trauma: What To Do When Holes Are Present That Shouldn’t Be" discussed such things as facial trauma from shrapnel wounds, blaster wounds, and stab wounds. The medics were all educated and most, though not all, were seasoned by having been in the field in some capacity. Airway management was always critically important; the C-ABCs were the most crucial steps in first response to save a patient. One of the younger medics, Chance, leaned over to his neighbor, Heron, a medic from the 218th Company, and asked "What do they stand for, again?"

Heron stared at the little shiny brother for a moment wryly, as if wondering why the fresh kid was asking something so obvious, and then muttered back, "Catastrophic Hemorrhage, Airway, Breathing and Circulation."

"Ahhh, thanks, 'Vod," Chance whispered back, flashing him a little smile.

The subject matter and attendant images were pretty harsh for a first-thing-in-the-morning class, but medical people were strange. They could handle looking at evisceration over a plate of spaghetti, or discussing dismemberment and gross bodily functions while eating dinner. An outside observer might wonder what was wrong with these people - how they could be so numb to horrific images - but the men all sat sprawled back and half awake in their chairs, sipping caf and munching on breakfast pastries while listening attentively to the lecturer.

A particularly gruesome image with an attached story was of a nat born civilian injury, in which someone had contrived to shoot them in the face. The front of their jaw and a lot of their lower face was missing, creating an airway nightmare scenario for the medics to ponder. The presenter stopped the class for a moment to take ideas on how the students would secure the patient's airway.

Stretcher, a noticeably taller than average medic with the 327th Star Corps spoke up. "Was the patient breathing on their own? I mean, if they're getting air, maybe just support, scoop and run."

The lecturer nodded, saying, "That's one idea. Any others?"

Volte leaned forward a bit and spoke up. "Intubate the patient. Follow the bubbles - where the patient's breath meets blood there will be bubbles and that should identify the airway. Secure it with a laryngoscope blade and pop a tube in there, because there's no guarantee how long they'll be conscious enough to keep breathing on their own, no matter how fast you run."

"Good, very good. Following the bubbles is a legitimate method. Would you use a facial mask over a patient like this?," the teacher asked.

Heads shook to say no. Bagging a patient like that would cause the remaining airway, teeth and tongue structures to collapse and further occlude the airway. It would be a disaster without proper jaw thrust to keep the tongue from falling back over the trachea; better to use a high flow face mask until real securement was in place.

"Very good, class. Any other suggestions?," the lecturer asked. This was the last discussion portion of his class and always generated some good feedback.

Once again, Volte spoke up. "One could always place a surgical airway, bypassing the entire upper trachea and the wounded area, but there's also a couple of types of airway adjuncts from my General's home planet, called the Combitube and King Airway. They're a blind intubation method - they can end up in the esophagus and yet still provide oxygenation and ventilation because of the position of their side holes. They were designed for things like this, when you have to just stuff the tube in blindly and hope for the best."

"That's very interesting. Have you used these tools, or seen them in real life?" The instructor seemed quite intrigued; this whole convention was about teaching new methods, updating education and showing off new technology. He'd love to get his hands on these tools being discussed.

"I have seen the King Airway, used it in fact. My General has brought us several implements from her home world to use in the field. I've found they help a lot - cut down a lot of the time to treatment element and help us get the wounded off the field quicker." Volte held up his data pad. "I've got some images stored on my data pad I can show you."

Kix coughed loudly and covered his mouth as he gasped out, "Be sure it's not the pinup pictures!" Several men heard him and chuckled as Volte looked over at him with a disgusted grunt and elbowed Kix in the ribs.

Volte snapped back something he'd heard General Lin say in jest when telling a trooper to shut it and leave. "Get thee gone Satan, or I will smite thee with my data pad and tape your mouth shut with conduit tape." Kix chuckled and walked out the door to stretch his legs while Volte and the instructor had their nerd moment over the airway adjuncts.

The class emptied out for a break before the next session started, "Rapid Sedation: How to Restrain Your Patient in Fives Seconds Without the Use of Conduit Tape." As the men trickled back in from the refresher and more caf, Volte and Kix grabbed seats near their little core group, seeing all of the Corries clumping together as well. Sedating patients was always a topic of discussion and sometimes jokes with medics, especially the Coruscant Guard, who as a general rule had to contend with the element of drunk partygoers or recreational substance use on all levels of the Capital ecumenopolus. Even the rich, famous and Senatorial types weren't innocent of the occasional dalliance.

To everyone's surprise, the speaker was an old nat born training medic from Kamino, famous for her assertive, indomitable will, her small stature and fierce eyes, nicknamed 'Pockets'. Few patients or students ever crossed her, afraid of seeing the wrath boiling in her cool blue eyes. Pockets was small, but a hurricane-like force of nature, and those who'd challenged her in the wild always found she was ever ready to sidestep the battle with a quick stab of a needle in a well placed muscle. She was not there to play games, she'd say. Pockets was there to help, even if it meant taking you out of the picture so she could do her job.

The group of clones were fascinated that such a small female could do so much with so little; the men were all no shorter than six foot two, give or take a couple inches either way. It was a rare day when someone out of their head challenged them, but it still happened occasionally, and every clone to a man believed that little Pockets would have a bull reek fully immobilized in less than five minutes, by herself. Sawbones gleefully imagined her strapping him to a bed with tape and having her way with him - he liked bullheaded, assertive girls that didn't back down.

"There are hundreds of medications spanning the range of emergency antipsychotic medications to straight sedation and pain classes, which can also serve the same purpose. In extreme cases, where a patient's psychosis or high goes too far and they require the aid of us assisting breathing, a small cocktail is required." Pockets paused, glancing around the room at her attentive audience. They were all breathtakingly handsome, and their dark eyes blinking back at her wiped her train of thought for a second. She cleared her throat, grasping at the threads of her lecture once more. "It was actually developed for the use of sedating and securing the airway of mothers in obstetrical distress, needing immediate surgical delivery and a patient airway. Given in the appropriate order and dose, the treatment team was able to knock the patient out without causing them to vomit reflexively, putting the airway at risk due to aspiration.” Pockets took a quick breath and then finished by saying, “So thank the next pregnant lady you see for rapid sedation protocols- they did you a favor.”

The lecture continued on in the same vein, as she covered the different medications, a short blurb about their history and pharmacology, pharmacokinetics, dosing and route of administration. She covered a few medications that could be given without intravenous access, which still had to be injected. "Sometimes, it's just satisfying to stab a truly unruly patient with a needle and watch them finally hit the wall of sleep. Definitely more humane than what one former partner of mine did. He used every roll of conduit tape in the ship to mummify the patient to the spine board after the guy decked me. I fell out the back of the ship, which was thankfully still on the platform, and really cracked my head hard. My partner didn't take too kindly to that, and since we had a trainee aboard, he and the newbie wrapped that guy head to toe with the tape to hold him down and keep him from hurting anyone else. They left his eyes, mouth and nose free of course, but it's safe to say the guy got a free waxing he didn't plan for when he started his day."

Pockets retold the story with a pretty neutral tone, though her eyes glimmered a bit with laughter. To some, the story probably seemed a little hard on the patient, but to others, like the Corries, it was all too familiar, recalling the many times some patients were less respectful, kind and cooperative, bordering more on the side of unsafe and dangerous to the medics and their crew. No medical crew should ever have to fear for their lives for simply trying to help a person. The forward operating medics all shot glances at the Corries, knowing this was more in their realm of expertise; it was rare that a wounded man in the field acted with such abandon and violence toward their medical officers. Sure, they could and would use the knowledge gained from this class to better care for their brothers, but they didn't plan on having to sedate them for behavioral issues. Now, doing it as a prank... that conduit tape mummification gag sounded pretty attractive to several of them, eyeing their neighbor a little mischievously or thinking of a certain brother they'd love to see strapped to a board. A few day dreams included visions of toting said brother around the base while still taped on the backboard, leaning him against the wall like he was nothing more than a curious object while continuing on blissfully with their lives...

Jab, a junior medic attached to Phoenix Company, chuckled softly and murmured to his neighbor, Captain Jaro of the 16th Medical Battalion, "Those injectable sedatives would be fun to carry in some of our autoinjectors. Can you imagine? Guy gets rowdy and you're like, 'Calm down or you're gonna get a poke.' Guy keeps fighting, 'One, two... stabby stab.'" He chuckled again; he was notorious for giving meds off count - it always took the men by surprise, as they trusted him enough to believe he would get to three before poking them, but no, not Jab. He believed in getting the negative stuff over with as quickly as possible.

The Corries as usual were all sitting together in a group, and Voodoo leaned over to Patcher, saying, "So, this means we're completely justified in sedating unruly supervisors that don't take care of themselves too, right?"

Patch laughed and answered back, "I'm not sure what YOU did was necessarily within the protocols, but justified? ...Maybe..."

Siren fixed Voodoo with a stern look and said, "Fox completely deserved what you did! If he wasn't going to look after himself, it's the medic's job to do so. When it comes to the health of the troopers, the medic is in charge."

Voodoo grinned back at the support of his brothers. Their Marshall Commander, Fox, had a bad tendency to work himself to death and refuse food and sleep until whatever obsession was on his plate was taken care of. When Voodoo was still somewhat new to the Coruscant Guard, he'd seen the man get particularly haggard and ground down after a long hitch of watching Senators for some big wig meeting in the Capital. When the rest of the men started to complain about how short tempered, hangry and down right bitchy Fox was getting, Voodoo decided to take matters into his own hands. He made a pretense to visit Fox in his office, moved to look at something over Fox's shoulder, and quickly stabbed him in the neck with an autoinjector of sedatives.

Fox had reacted like a snake bit him, shooting out of his desk chair with a strangled, "What in karking HELL did you just give...me..." as he crumpled to the floor and immediately drew in a stuporous snore.

Voodoo stood over him with triumphant grin, then hailed Thorn over his comm device to come help him get the Commander to some place more comfortable than the floor. When Fox woke up two days later, he found a warm, nutritious breakfast spread on the table next to him, as well as a note from Voodoo that simply stated, "And I'd do it again."

When the class broke up, the men all wandered off to find lunch. They had a good while before the next class started, so some of the medics headed back to their rooms to relax, nap, read a book, watch some holo net. Kix and Volte left the convention center to walk down the street, in search of food they hadn't tried as yet; they didn't want to burn out on hotel food when there were small Hosnian Prime native shops within reach to try.

The after lunch program started off with one of the most taboo and terrifying subjects in the medical world: pediatrics. As a general rule, most people were afraid to treat children. They often approached that patient population with the attitude of 'children are just small adults', and 'a silent kid is a dead kid, but a loud kid is annoying.' About the only medic actually excited to attend the class was Minder, who ambled in quickly, found a spot on the front row of the class, and waited eagerly for the speaker to climb the dais. Volte and Kix decided to sit just behind their friend; they didn't want to seem too excited about the topic.

Volte was wary of kids, but wasn't averse to treating them. His General, in fact, kept a job on her home world of treating children hospitalized for various illnesses, and had told him many times of long term patients she'd gotten to know. She seemed to hold a real affection for small patients and always patiently imparted tips to Volte on how to get on their level, gain their trust so that treating them was easier. General Lin always asserted firmly that treating kids was FAR better than dealing with adults, hands down.

There were low chuckles, murmuring, and a few gasps when the presenter climbed up to the podium. The instructor was a small, sprightly young woman, dressed in a costume that looked like a cat, whiskers drawn on her face, with little pointed ears sticking out of her curly hair, and a long tail trailing behind her. She placed a small sheaf of papers on the lectern and looked up at her audience, seeing hundreds of wide, amused to shocked brown eyes staring back.

"Howdy! Welcome to 'How to Approach Younglings: They're Not Armed Bombs.' I’m Madi, and this lecture is going to contain a lot of personal experience, maybe even some tips you might find helpful in the future. The biggest take away I want you to learn is that kids don't have to be terrifying. They're all unique, fiercely brave little souls that will all make a mark on you in some way, most likely permanently. You'll never forget these little patients going forward, especially if you are lucky enough to form a bond with them."

Volte and Kix had both sat up to attention when they saw the speaker’s attire, and Kix looked over at Volte with an amused expression. Her costume was very telling; it left little to the imagination about her form and figure. Kix was staring guilelessly at the woman, amazed that she had the spirit and courage to appear before a room full of single, handsome rakish men dressed as a sexy cat; he was salivating over the thought of getting her comm channel numbers. Volte was simply trying to look attentive and interested for the speaker. Sawbones leaned forward to mutter in Volte's ear, "I'll definitely never forget her wearing that outfit, going forward..."

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to dress up like a cat for you. Let me tell you why, because it certainly wasn't to feed your filthy imaginations." Madi squinted at Sawbones knowingly; she'd seen him say something to Volte that had made the medic shift in his seat uncomfortably. "On my home world, medical professionals that specialize in children often dress up for different occasions, because wonder and imagination are both so important to a child. There is a whole day dedicated to dressing up as someone or something else for fun, and going around asking for candy from adults. At the facility I work at, we have a party on a sky bridge, where all the medical workers dress up for the children, to hand out candy and toys." Madi paused to see more of the clones were intrigued at the thought of her interacting with child patients on some distant planet, dressed up for the part in some tantalizing costume or other.

"Another important thing to remember about kids - they're not just small adults. A child's body is not mature; it's still going through a very complicated growth pattern, as is their mind. It's important to know the different developmental stages for a child, so you know how to interact with them appropriately. For instance, a toddler may hate you on sight, regardless of what you do, because it's within their developmental stage to be afraid of strangers. If you luck out enough to land on a character they're familiar with, you might be able to approach them more easily. Otherwise, you might just be in for a small rodeo."

Volte heard Voodoo mumble, "The kriff is a 'rodeo'?" This was something Volte had a lot of experience with; people were generally confused at many of the quips his General said in the course of a conversation. Even her own men were often forced to make her clarify what she was talking about, and would remind her “Basic... General. Basic." So it made Volte smile a bit seeing General Lin wasn’t the only person who needed a translator for their little euphemisms.

Madi looked at Voodoo a little dryly and huffed out, "Rodeo = wrestling match, same thing."

Sawbones laughed darkly and muttered, "I'd wrestle with her any day, and she can call it whatever she likes."

Rolling her eyes slightly at the male commentary, she continued on, outlining the different stages of mental and emotional development for children, then discussed multiple physical changes that occurred with growth. She wasn't to let their locker room humor stop her from enlightening them about pediatric care. "I've ended up watching holo shows and playing games with multiple patients of all ages, in order to gain and keep their trust. It's actually a very rewarding thing, knowing the kids look to you as something of a friend or protector."

She moved on to the next subject. "Gaining intravenous access on small children, especially infants, is incredibly difficult for those who don't use the skill on a daily basis. Those little veins are hard to see, tiny, and frequently like to roll away from the needle. In that case - and I've checked with your typical supplies - you have intraosseous needles that can be drilled either by hand or by purpose made drill, into the bone." Madi stopped and picked up a strange, burgundy colored power drill with a rather wicked looking, long plastic and metal needle on the end. She hit the trigger and the drill made a noticeable high pitched burrrr and Madi smiled a little wickedly, like an evil scientist with a surgical instrument. Kix's breath caught, his mind throwing images of her securing him to a bed and holding that thing over him threateningly. She stepped off the podium and handed it to Minder, telling him to pass it around so everyone could see it.

"What you're passing around now, is called the 'Easy IO' on my home planet. It's a purpose made power drill that holds an IO needle on the front by magnet, which makes it far easier to access the bone marrow. You find your appropriate site, hold it steady, hit the trigger, and drill that puppy home. Pop it off the drill, unscrew the top and voila, there is a connection beneath to attach IV tubing to." She paused as she saw Jab playing with the drill, his eyes a little dreamy about using it in the field. "Now, the two biggest problems with IO access is pain and pressure caused by infusing through the marrow, and securement so the line doesn't infiltrate into the surrounding musculature and tissue. That's a bad, bad deal. Down the road you also have to worry about osteomyelitis since placing these are always emergent and not usually the cleanest insertions; however, they can stay in up to 24 hours."

The drill had made it back to Carpal, who was hitting the trigger and watching the needle spin in a fascinated, morbid way. He'd heard everything she'd said; he had his hearing aids in so he could catch all the important information. When he got tired of listening, he would sometimes turn them off and snooze in his chair, so that he looked present, or at least like a body occupying a seat.

"These drills have made placing IOs FAR easier than in the past. Once the only choice was to manually insert the needle, by grasping the patient's leg, holding it as steady as you could, and drilling that wicked thing into the bone by hand. I've seen grown men shaking like leaves while inserting them, knowing they were causing pain but doing their best to help the child in question. And if your hand slipped, you could stab yourself through the back of the patient's leg - it was a rough procedure on everyone involved." She saw multiple clones wince in horror. "So the point is, drills are good, getting access is golden, medicate with a numbing adjunct first thing before you infuse volume or meds of any kind - it truly helps with the pain. Any questions?"

Madi surveyed the room with bright eyes, waiting to see if any were brave enough to ask anything. A few were. They tossed back questions and answers for a good thirty minutes and then were dismissed for a break before their next class. Minder immediately stood to corner the little speaker, to ask her more about her personal interactions with pediatric patients, generating trust between them, and how to cope with some of the harder cases. Kix grumbled in Volte's ear as he walked by “Gonna get her comm codes, watch me! See if I can't make that kitten purr,” he said with a salacious grin. Volte shook his head and kept walking; he imagined the girl had teeth and claws to go with her feisty personality, but he knew Kix was nothing if not persistent and bold.

The clones shuffled along to their next two classes in an upbeat mood; the day was nearly over and while it had been a long one, they'd learned a lot of valuable lessons and new information. They all felt it had been a productive day, and were looking forward to getting out, hitting the bar for drinks and camaraderie and laughs...maybe a pretty girl to flirt with or two. Kix had almost decided Hosnian Prime had no females, and that they'd come to some kind of torturous dating desert. Volte had laughed at his complaints, listening to him whine and grumble about the dearth of ladies to talk to, especially after the pediatrics instructor had turned Kix down hard; the rakish clone was still simmering with angst over his failure to woo the cute lecturer.

The last two lectures dealt with communicable disease and infection prevention. The first, 'Preventing Infections: As Easy As Wash Your Kriffing Hands!', dealt with exactly that - how hand washing was the most simple and expedient way to get microbes off of your skin. First, the man took roll call of every clone in the room by their CT number, making sure all were present. He called Kix's number, "CT 6...1...1...6...," waiting for a reply. When Kix didn't answer immediately, because he was too busy whispering something to Minder, the man repeated his number again in a sonorously boring voice. "CT 6...1...1...6...? No? He's not here?" Minder finally shushed Kix and gestured for him to answer the teacher back, so the man would move on. The speaker then blandly, monotonously explained how it was crucial to clean under fingernails while washing, as very harmful bacteria and viruses could live there as well, waiting like little ninja infection warriors to spread and attack new hosts.

He told horror stories of how some people, now infamous to history, had inadvertently spread diseases among the general populous. There was Dragon Pox Mary, who had been hired as a cook for a wealthy and influential family, and unknowingly spread Dragon Pox to them in their food, because she didn't believe handwashing to be necessary. And there was Nurse Katarina Belforto, who'd unfortunately not washed her hands either, and spread another deadly illness to babies under her care, killing or permanently maiming them. It was surprising that such a small thing as handwashing could be the single answer to saving lives.

The clones all sat back in their seats, many with their arms crossed over their chests, staring back at the utterly dry and boring teacher. The stories were vaguely gruesome and grim, but they couldn't over the speaker's dry, droning, slow way of talking. The instructor reached up halfway through his long session and pushed his thick glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, never looking up from the pages of his notes as he ambled on in his speech. If he'd looked up and chanced a glance at his students, he'd have seen glassy, tired, stunned eyes staring back at him like the empty windows of a vacant home - the men were just that bored by his monotonous drone. A few snorts and snores became softly audible after a few minutes, and Volte saw Whiskey suddenly jerk himself back upright after nearly falling out of his chair, having dozed off to sleep. Kix chuckled quietly and glanced at Volte out of the side of his eyes, his expression practically screaming, 'Holy kriff, this guy is boring!' Thankfully the class finally ended and the men all virtually sprinted from the room to wake up for the final lecture, hoping to get their blood pumping and find enough energy to make it through the homestretch of the day.

When they all filed back in for the final class, the men saw the presenter was a doctor at least a few of them had met before at the Grand Republic Medical Center. "Welcome to the final class of the day, men, 'Communicable Diseases: How to Avoid Them While Sitting in a Small Enclosed Space With Others.'" The men all chuckled a little at the title of the class, glancing to either side at their brothers, fellow prisoners of the current enclosed space.

The lecturer continued on, "I am Doctor Eric Coli, and we will discuss some of the finer points of how diseases can spread so easily in small areas, to some extent due to a lack of handwashing, as my fine colleague Sten Bein covered in his lecture." He paused, seeing the clones' eyes all start to glaze over at even the slightest mention of the previous discussion, and laughed softly. "I know you were all positively riveted by that class...," he said, completely devoid of irony. There were a few titters of laughter and a few murmured comments among the crowd; they knew the doctor was being sarcastic.

The medics all found Dr Coli to be witty and entertaining, as he described the horrors of some diseases and how they could spread like wildfire in small communities. He opened the floor up to take commentary on ideas about containing such contagion, since the clones to a large extent were not well versed in infectious disease. While violence was a disease, trauma on the battlefield was not, and the clones were all healthy, genetically enhanced, illness free men. They generally had no need of education on such subjects. To a man, they got their eyes opened that day.

Dr Coli discussed more than one awful disease, such as colonovirus, a notorious sickness that seemed particularly attracted to cruise ships. Victims found themselves overtaken within hours of exposure with severe vomiting and diarrhea, ideation of death (actually, wishing they could die because they were so miserable), and the urgent need for a refund on their trip. It was a yearly malaise, and had picked up multiple nicknames along the years such as 'The Cruise Ship Disease' or 'Montezuma's Revenge', or 'The Curse of The Out of Order Refresher.' The doctor even laughingly read them a poem he'd written about the awful malady when he himself had contracted it after a pleasure cruise to Naboo.

"Oh colonovirus, why dost thou assaulteth my bowels?

Each day I make offerings to ye gods of the refresher in stool softeners and fiber.

How hast I offended thee?

I pray, oh greatest of calamities, return to the depths of the hell from whence thou climbest!

I shall suffer the slings and arrows of your cursed hold no more.

For I shall defeatest thou by means of moist wipes and the washing of my unworthy hands.

By the power of the warm and comforting bidet, I shall vanquish thee!

The clones were all crying tears of laughter by the final stanza of his "Ode to Colonovirus," and all of the men present for the lecture agreed he'd won the best lecture of the day title, (clean) hands down.

He also covered a nightmare respiratory virus that was somewhat new to the galaxy, which up until recently none had any immunity to. The medics all vaguely recalled hearing about the disease and how the general public had reacted to it. People were barred from standing within six feet of each other. All had to wear masks that covered nose and mouth to prevent exposure to droplets. The general populace at large became terrified of their neighbors, terrified for their families, separated and isolated from any and all people. The galaxy had weathered the awful contagion as best it could, though in the end they were forced to more or less suffer through it until immune systems became well acquainted enough to fight back. Vaccines were created, medications patented, but millions of lives were lost before the disease began to release its vile hold on the galaxy.

The poor doctor had worn something of a haunted look while retelling the experiences of the awful virus. While the clones had been isolated and protected on Kamino, they realized the rest of the galaxy had suffered and died, losing loved ones, friends and family alike, fighting a different sort of war, though just as real as the one the clones were battling. The discussion got very real, very fast, and when the class finally ended, the men left feeling immensely lucky for having coasted right by that plague without any issues.

The sports bar was positively hopping with the raucous energy of the clones, finally freed from class and still brimming with amazement at the displays of the vendors. The new technology coming out had them buzzing, most especially the planned medical - evacuation dropship, complete with six bunks for patients. They could feasibly load a couple more in the floor of the ship, taking eight critically wounded with them on a first run. It had the men dreaming excitedly about the possibilities of saving more brothers from death or permanent maiming, if they could cut their field to treatment time down.

Volte and Kix were holding court at the bar, having shouldered their way in for a place there, and refused to give it up. Kix had pulled Minder in next to him so he could sit at one of the bar stools and rest his leg, while Sawbones stood next to Volte, a keen, watchful eye on the crowd of milling clones as they all chattered away about their classes for the day and whatever free goods they'd been given by the different exhibitors.

Whiskey ambled up, ordering a drink and then settling in next to the small knot of clones he'd taken to hanging out with. He and Sawbones started chatting, raising their bottles in greeting when Quarter strolled up to them.

Excitedly, Quarter asked Whiskey what he thought of the new medical platform. He knew they most likely would never need it on Coruscant, but it was neat to dream about it anyway. "I saw it had respiratory gas hook ups, built in monitoring cables that go to a central monitoring system, and even a suction system!," he burbled on. "That's got to make the forward operating medics happy, having all of those hardwired in."

"Oh heck yeah!," Sawbones grunted in reply. "It will come in handy that's for sure." Saw took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows quirking up at a thought, and mischievous light coming into his hard eyes. "Though that built in suction thing isn't a new idea. Right, Kix?"

Kix looked up when his name was called and said, "Huh? You summoned me?"

"Yeah! I was telling Quarter here that the built in suction system on that evac platform isn't a new idea. Is it, Vod?" Sawbones waggled his eyebrows a little and grinned at Kix in something almost of a leer. There was a story lurking there, which was backed up by the dull blush that crept up Kix's neck into his high cheekbones.

"Not nice, Sawbones," Kix said in a low voice, trying to warn his brother off of telling all his dirty secrets.

"Oh, I think it's completely necessary, don't you Quarter?" Sawbones grinned over at his other batchmate brother and saw him laugh, realizing where Saw was going with this. Kix gave Quarter a withering look, his face moving into a very resigned expression, knowing what was coming.

A small crowd had grown around their little group; somehow people always *knew* when tea was about to be spilled and gravitated toward it. The group had expanded to Scope, a medic serving under Commander Bly and General Secura, Friendly, an outgoing medic that typically patrolled Hutt Space with his battalion, Chance, a very young, red headed clone still working out of Kamino, Siren, Patcher, Patch, Voodoo, and Sentinel, the CMO of the 117th Recon Battalion. All were standing around, eagerly awaiting the gory details of the story about the infamous Kix of Torrent Company as a cadet.

"So, when Kix, Quarter and I were all baby medics back on Kamino, they had us go up on a training mission in one of the newer LA ATs that had some medical revisions. The two old training medics with us - they were like gods, you know? Full of knowledge and experience, untouchable by us shinies." Saw's eyes took on a slightly faraway look as he remembered back to the day in question. "Anyway, so these two clones, Duran and Morrow, take us up and were explaining the different switches and buttons on that particular ship, while we all sat around staring at them like dreamy kids. And I guess Kix looked particularly ripe for this little prank, because they focused on him."

Sawbones laughed ruefully, the memories making it difficult to get it out without giggling maniacally. "They were all, 'So this button is the suction button. When you push that button, it makes the LAAT go up, because this scoop on the bottom drops down, and changes the ship's altitude. Got it?' And Kix man, he was so wide eyed, like some young quivrey, staring back at them like they wore halos and light shone out of their ass.” The men in the group were starting to smile, a few low chuckles breaking out, envisioning the look on Kix's face as he bought this bantha shit story from the salty old medics. All of the men had been there in some way too; they were no strangers to hazing. Kix looked on with a sour expression on his face, though he was starting to smile against his will.

"Duran then goes on to tell Kix and the rest of us, 'So, if you hit the button again to turn off the suction, the ship will drop, because the scoop closed and it's no longer pushing the ship up, got it?' And Kix nods like the good little shiny he was - Vod was completely sold on this karking story," Sawbones laughed gruffly.

“Morrow like, leaned back in his seat and said, 'Okay kid, hit the button *now*, test it out.' And Kix did what he was told. And damned if that LAAT didn’t climb, just like they'd said it would." Saw paused to take a sip of his drink, while everyone shot some looks at Kix, half suspecting what was coming next.

"They had all of us at that point - we'd bought it hook, line and sinker," Quarter interjected with a low chuckle. "Gullible little babies that we were." The group all grinned and giggled, starting to realized what was about to happen.

Whiskey picked the story back up, "So then Duran tells Kix, ' Okay kid, hit the button to turn it off *now*.' Kix is all do do doooo (as Sawbones mimicked a silly kid ambling along cluelessly), hits the button, and then proceeds to scream like a girl as the ship bottomed out, dropping - I kriff you not - at least 500 feet in a second. We were all basically floating in air, zero gravity for a minute, watching our very short lives pass before our eyes, as Duran and Morrow laughed like two gargoyles at the group of shinies pissing themselves in front of them." Sawbones had forced the last sentence out through a stream of gurgling, wheezing laughs, while the rest of the group chuckled and gave Kix patronizing yet sympathetic looks.

"You know, those two karking a-holes never apologized for scaring a few years off our lives. I legitimately thought we were going to die," Kix snarled out, the embarrassing post, near-death experience still stinging. He looked back on it with humor, though he couldn't admit that to the group at hand. Kix saw Volte take a sip of his drink to hide a gleeful smirk, while Quarter chuckled at the memory. Kix gave his batch mate a hard look and sputtered, “Quarter, you've got no room to laugh - you screamed just as loud as I did and I know you had a short run of V tach. I thought we were gonna have to hit you with the paddles!”

Quarter positively giggled. “I can't deny it, they got us good. Those two jokers were some of the best training officers on Kamino. Force knows how they got away with even half of the stuff they did." Quarter shook his head in memory of the unparalleled shenanigans Duran and Morrow were famous for.

"Volte what about you? Got any good stories to tell from serving with the Dragon General?," Voodoo asked. "I heard Echo's first time up with her on that thing, it dove for a vulture droid and he screamed like a child over the open comm channels.” The group started laughing at the mental image of one of the more famous ARC Troopers embarrassing himself in such a way.

Volte chewed on some ice for a minute out of his glass, pondering the question. There were so many stories from Dragon Company, actually, most of which never saw the light of day. General Lin was rather infamous for tomfoolery herself, let alone the stuff she condoned within the ranks. "I wasn't there when that happened - that story was from the Battle of Teth and we weren't a Company yet. But she took Captain Primer up one day with her on that beast of hers, and when they got back he was holding onto her waist with his eyes screwed shut so tight we had to pry him off of her." The group all tittered with chuckles at that; Primer was known to be a brave, completely competent clone commander. They all struggled to imagine him afraid of anything, thought they all thought to a man they'd probably have taken any excuse to get their arms around General Lin if given the chance.

Quarter muttered softly into his glass, "You sure he was holding onto her purely out of fear?" He took a quick sip and then looked at Volte more squarely. "I've heard through the grapevine that he follows her for more reasons than just orders..." He saw Kix grin and gave his vod a wink, while Volte cleared his throat a little loudly and very obviously took a swig of his drink, shooting a quelling look at Quarter.

A new clone had joined the group about midway through the story, named Cheese. He was from the Mist Squad, under the 767 Recon Division, and the man loved anything related to gossip. Photography was a hobby of his, and he like to take group photos of his brothers when the opportunity struck. His eyes were sharp as he listened to the tea pertaining to the infamous General Lin. He suddenly pulled a data pad off his belt and held it up to snap a picture of the group, quickly blurting out "Say Cheese!," as he hit the photo button. The others stared back at him a little blandly; tolerating Cheese's habit was something most were used to by now. He'd already made the rounds through most of the clones getting proof of life many times over. They would soon realize the benefits of having allowed the somewhat socially awkward medic to record the conference in photos; the men would have many images of their brothers enjoying lighthearted moments, camaraderie and fun to look back on. Some of the men he captured in the holographic images on his data pad would not be there the next time the conference came about, and while all knew this, it was an unspoken, dark truth that moved beneath the surface like a cold current of air.

The party rolled on as more clones stuffed themselves into the bar, and Kix's night was made when Madi the young pediatrics lecturer popped up at the bar next to him, a little mischievous smirk on her cute face, one eyebrow arched as she watched Kix's face for a reaction. Volte did a double take at seeing her there, then laughed when he saw Kix's eyes nearly fall out of his head realizing she was there in person, waiting for him to speak to her. Volte looked over at Sawbones and Whiskey and sighed. "Guess I'll be crashing in your room tonight, boys."

A perky, bright voice answered him back from the other side of Kix. "Oh no! I wanted to get to know both of you."

Volte choked on his drink, his eyes going wide as he looked back at the girl in shock. She smiled back impishly.

Sawbones, Whiskey and Quarter all traded glances around, and Sawbones muttered, "We can leave the door unlocked in case you need the two of us to come rescue you at ANY point, Vod." He elbowed Volte and gave him a salacious wink, grumbling "Lucky bastards," as he sipped his drink, watching the trio head off out of the bar. Volte looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide like a prisoner stumbling off to the gallows, unsure of just what he'd suddenly been roped into, but unable to stop his feet from following the sprightly, cute girl leading him by the hand with a cheshire cat grin on her face, as Kix walked beside like a king ascending to his throne.

Credits:

Kix - CT 6116 Medic of Torrent Company, 501st Legion

Volte - CT 2403 Dragon Company CMO, property of CloneMedicKix

Sawbones - CT 2697 Wolfpack CMO, 104th Battalion, property of Wizardofrozz

Quarter - ARC 2525 Republic Intelligence medic, property of Hetalianskywalker

Whiskey - CC 6891 CMO 104th Battalion, property of Banks's-rat

Voodoo - CT 0127 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sev-on-Kamino

Cheese - CT 2437, Medic of Mist Squad, 767 Recon Division, property of Homemade-clones

Friendly - Medic of 387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Chance - CT 5243 Medic of Phoenix Squad, property of The-Bad-Batch-Baroness

Patch - Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sunshinedaydream

Patcher - CT 1110 Coruscant Guard CMO, property of Stargazingbunny

Siren - CT 6161 Coruscant Guard medic, property of 523rdrebel

Sentinel - CT 26-0207, CMO of 117th Recon Battalion, property of Liluthenerd

Scope - CT 4466 Medic of 327th Battalion, property of Mythical Illustrator

Stretcher - CT 3880, Medic of 327th Star Corps, property of A-single-tulip

Heron - Medic of 218th Company, property of King-chaos-world

Jab - Junior medic of Phoenix Company, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Captain Jaro - CT 1926, CMO of 16th Medical Battalion, property of Sweetmugofcocoa

Minder - CT 6334-2 Jedi Medical Company, property of Mythical Illustrator

Carpal - CC 6666 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Mythical Illustrator

Taglist!

@mythical-illustrator @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @moonlightwarriorqueen @523rdrebel @king-chaos-world @starrrgazingbunny @the-bad-batch-baroness @swarovski-yoda @homemade-clones @hetalianskywalker @a-single-tulip @banksys-rat @sev-on-kamino @vodika-vibes @sunshinesdaydream @liluthenerd @sweetmugofcocoa @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @villanousace @theogfulcrum22 @starrylothcat @anxiouspineapple99 @mire-draws-things @cloneloverrrrr @mandos-mind-trick @padawancat97 @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @isthereanechoinhere96 @jediknightjana @wackylurker @starqueensthings @dickarchivist @amorfista @marierg

EMS dividers by MEEEEEEEE!

Final Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

[clonemedickix]

Gotta love them grumpy ass old medical women. People should be afraid, very afraid.

Rating: M

Word count: 7.5K

Pairing: OC Clone Medics

Warnings: Mention of medical trauma, mention of medical procedures, mention of prehospital care and trauma, discussion on pediatric care, alcohol use, implied substance abuse/impairment, implied sexual activity, medical humor, prehospital humor (it's snide y'all, that's the reality)

Excerpt Summary - Day One of the 1st Annual GAR Medic Conference

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First Day: Watch Out For That Drop!

Clones started to file into the appointed lecture room for the first class, finding tables laden with breakfast pastries, cereal and blue milk, large steaming carafes full of caf. There were a lot of bleary-eyed men wandering about, hungover from the previous night of drinking, laughing and story telling at various restaurants and bars. The group was fairly quiet, considering how loud and raucous they'd been the night before, and Volte was secretly feeling quite smug over the rest he'd managed to get before starting classes that morning. It wouldn't last; Kix was not about to agree to another night of simply going to bed. He'd come to party and relive stories, and he wasn't going to let Volte's boring personality drag him down.

Sawbones and Whiskey sauntered into the room, also looking more bright eyed and bushy tailed than most of the others gathered around the table. Sawbones quickly moved to the caf table, giving a few of the younger, hung over clones sharp looks that had them shifting out of his way. He even growled "MOVE!" at one that hadn't gotten the message from his body language. The groggy medic looked up in surprise, blinking as if the light were too hard, saw the grizzled old clone's expression, and quickly moved as ordered.

The first day of classes started with a bang, almost literally. "Advanced Airway Management for Facial Trauma: What To Do When Holes Are Present That Shouldn’t Be" discussed such things as facial trauma from shrapnel wounds, blaster wounds, and stab wounds. The medics were all educated and most, though not all, were seasoned by having been in the field in some capacity. Airway management was always critically important; the C-ABCs were the most crucial steps in first response to save a patient. One of the younger medics, Chance, leaned over to his neighbor, Heron, a medic from the 218th Company, and asked "What do they stand for, again?"

Heron stared at the little shiny brother for a moment wryly, as if wondering why the fresh kid was asking something so obvious, and then muttered back, "Catastrophic Hemorrhage, Airway, Breathing and Circulation."

"Ahhh, thanks, 'Vod," Chance whispered back, flashing him a little smile.

The subject matter and attendant images were pretty harsh for a first-thing-in-the-morning class, but medical people were strange. They could handle looking at evisceration over a plate of spaghetti, or discussing dismemberment and gross bodily functions while eating dinner. An outside observer might wonder what was wrong with these people - how they could be so numb to horrific images - but the men all sat sprawled back and half awake in their chairs, sipping caf and munching on breakfast pastries while listening attentively to the lecturer.

A particularly gruesome image with an attached story was of a nat born civilian injury, in which someone had contrived to shoot them in the face. The front of their jaw and a lot of their lower face was missing, creating an airway nightmare scenario for the medics to ponder. The presenter stopped the class for a moment to take ideas on how the students would secure the patient's airway.

Stretcher, a noticeably taller than average medic with the 327th Star Corps spoke up. "Was the patient breathing on their own? I mean, if they're getting air, maybe just support, scoop and run."

The lecturer nodded, saying, "That's one idea. Any others?"

Volte leaned forward a bit and spoke up. "Intubate the patient. Follow the bubbles - where the patient's breath meets blood there will be bubbles and that should identify the airway. Secure it with a laryngoscope blade and pop a tube in there, because there's no guarantee how long they'll be conscious enough to keep breathing on their own, no matter how fast you run."

"Good, very good. Following the bubbles is a legitimate method. Would you use a facial mask over a patient like this?," the teacher asked.

Heads shook to say no. Bagging a patient like that would cause the remaining airway, teeth and tongue structures to collapse and further occlude the airway. It would be a disaster without proper jaw thrust to keep the tongue from falling back over the trachea; better to use a high flow face mask until real securement was in place.

"Very good, class. Any other suggestions?," the lecturer asked. This was the last discussion portion of his class and always generated some good feedback.

Once again, Volte spoke up. "One could always place a surgical airway, bypassing the entire upper trachea and the wounded area, but there's also a couple of types of airway adjuncts from my General's home planet, called the Combitube and King Airway. They're a blind intubation method - they can end up in the esophagus and yet still provide oxygenation and ventilation because of the position of their side holes. They were designed for things like this, when you have to just stuff the tube in blindly and hope for the best."

"That's very interesting. Have you used these tools, or seen them in real life?" The instructor seemed quite intrigued; this whole convention was about teaching new methods, updating education and showing off new technology. He'd love to get his hands on these tools being discussed.

"I have seen the King Airway, used it in fact. My General has brought us several implements from her home world to use in the field. I've found they help a lot - cut down a lot of the time to treatment element and help us get the wounded off the field quicker." Volte held up his data pad. "I've got some images stored on my data pad I can show you."

Kix coughed loudly and covered his mouth as he gasped out, "Be sure it's not the pinup pictures!" Several men heard him and chuckled as Volte looked over at him with a disgusted grunt and elbowed Kix in the ribs.

Volte snapped back something he'd heard General Lin say in jest when telling a trooper to shut it and leave. "Get thee gone Satan, or I will smite thee with my data pad and tape your mouth shut with conduit tape." Kix chuckled and walked out the door to stretch his legs while Volte and the instructor had their nerd moment over the airway adjuncts.

The class emptied out for a break before the next session started, "Rapid Sedation: How to Restrain Your Patient in Fives Seconds Without the Use of Conduit Tape." As the men trickled back in from the refresher and more caf, Volte and Kix grabbed seats near their little core group, seeing all of the Corries clumping together as well. Sedating patients was always a topic of discussion and sometimes jokes with medics, especially the Coruscant Guard, who as a general rule had to contend with the element of drunk partygoers or recreational substance use on all levels of the Capital ecumenopolus. Even the rich, famous and Senatorial types weren't innocent of the occasional dalliance.

To everyone's surprise, the speaker was an old nat born training medic from Kamino, famous for her assertive, indomitable will, her small stature and fierce eyes, nicknamed 'Pockets'. Few patients or students ever crossed her, afraid of seeing the wrath boiling in her cool blue eyes. Pockets was small, but a hurricane-like force of nature, and those who'd challenged her in the wild always found she was ever ready to sidestep the battle with a quick stab of a needle in a well placed muscle. She was not there to play games, she'd say. Pockets was there to help, even if it meant taking you out of the picture so she could do her job.

The group of clones were fascinated that such a small female could do so much with so little; the men were all no shorter than six foot two, give or take a couple inches either way. It was a rare day when someone out of their head challenged them, but it still happened occasionally, and every clone to a man believed that little Pockets would have a bull reek fully immobilized in less than five minutes, by herself. Sawbones gleefully imagined her strapping him to a bed with tape and having her way with him - he liked bullheaded, assertive girls that didn't back down.

"There are hundreds of medications spanning the range of emergency antipsychotic medications to straight sedation and pain classes, which can also serve the same purpose. In extreme cases, where a patient's psychosis or high goes too far and they require the aid of us assisting breathing, a small cocktail is required." Pockets paused, glancing around the room at her attentive audience. They were all breathtakingly handsome, and their dark eyes blinking back at her wiped her train of thought for a second. She cleared her throat, grasping at the threads of her lecture once more. "It was actually developed for the use of sedating and securing the airway of mothers in obstetrical distress, needing immediate surgical delivery and a patient airway. Given in the appropriate order and dose, the treatment team was able to knock the patient out without causing them to vomit reflexively, putting the airway at risk due to aspiration.” Pockets took a quick breath and then finished by saying, “So thank the next pregnant lady you see for rapid sedation protocols- they did you a favor.”

The lecture continued on in the same vein, as she covered the different medications, a short blurb about their history and pharmacology, pharmacokinetics, dosing and route of administration. She covered a few medications that could be given without intravenous access, which still had to be injected. "Sometimes, it's just satisfying to stab a truly unruly patient with a needle and watch them finally hit the wall of sleep. Definitely more humane than what one former partner of mine did. He used every roll of conduit tape in the ship to mummify the patient to the spine board after the guy decked me. I fell out the back of the ship, which was thankfully still on the platform, and really cracked my head hard. My partner didn't take too kindly to that, and since we had a trainee aboard, he and the newbie wrapped that guy head to toe with the tape to hold him down and keep him from hurting anyone else. They left his eyes, mouth and nose free of course, but it's safe to say the guy got a free waxing he didn't plan for when he started his day."

Pockets retold the story with a pretty neutral tone, though her eyes glimmered a bit with laughter. To some, the story probably seemed a little hard on the patient, but to others, like the Corries, it was all too familiar, recalling the many times some patients were less respectful, kind and cooperative, bordering more on the side of unsafe and dangerous to the medics and their crew. No medical crew should ever have to fear for their lives for simply trying to help a person. The forward operating medics all shot glances at the Corries, knowing this was more in their realm of expertise; it was rare that a wounded man in the field acted with such abandon and violence toward their medical officers. Sure, they could and would use the knowledge gained from this class to better care for their brothers, but they didn't plan on having to sedate them for behavioral issues. Now, doing it as a prank... that conduit tape mummification gag sounded pretty attractive to several of them, eyeing their neighbor a little mischievously or thinking of a certain brother they'd love to see strapped to a board. A few day dreams included visions of toting said brother around the base while still taped on the backboard, leaning him against the wall like he was nothing more than a curious object while continuing on blissfully with their lives...

Jab, a junior medic attached to Phoenix Company, chuckled softly and murmured to his neighbor, Captain Jaro of the 16th Medical Battalion, "Those injectable sedatives would be fun to carry in some of our autoinjectors. Can you imagine? Guy gets rowdy and you're like, 'Calm down or you're gonna get a poke.' Guy keeps fighting, 'One, two... stabby stab.'" He chuckled again; he was notorious for giving meds off count - it always took the men by surprise, as they trusted him enough to believe he would get to three before poking them, but no, not Jab. He believed in getting the negative stuff over with as quickly as possible.

The Corries as usual were all sitting together in a group, and Voodoo leaned over to Patcher, saying, "So, this means we're completely justified in sedating unruly supervisors that don't take care of themselves too, right?"

Patch laughed and answered back, "I'm not sure what YOU did was necessarily within the protocols, but justified? ...Maybe..."

Siren fixed Voodoo with a stern look and said, "Fox completely deserved what you did! If he wasn't going to look after himself, it's the medic's job to do so. When it comes to the health of the troopers, the medic is in charge."

Voodoo grinned back at the support of his brothers. Their Marshall Commander, Fox, had a bad tendency to work himself to death and refuse food and sleep until whatever obsession was on his plate was taken care of. When Voodoo was still somewhat new to the Coruscant Guard, he'd seen the man get particularly haggard and ground down after a long hitch of watching Senators for some big wig meeting in the Capital. When the rest of the men started to complain about how short tempered, hangry and down right bitchy Fox was getting, Voodoo decided to take matters into his own hands. He made a pretense to visit Fox in his office, moved to look at something over Fox's shoulder, and quickly stabbed him in the neck with an autoinjector of sedatives.

Fox had reacted like a snake bit him, shooting out of his desk chair with a strangled, "What in karking HELL did you just give...me..." as he crumpled to the floor and immediately drew in a stuporous snore.

Voodoo stood over him with triumphant grin, then hailed Thorn over his comm device to come help him get the Commander to some place more comfortable than the floor. When Fox woke up two days later, he found a warm, nutritious breakfast spread on the table next to him, as well as a note from Voodoo that simply stated, "And I'd do it again."

When the class broke up, the men all wandered off to find lunch. They had a good while before the next class started, so some of the medics headed back to their rooms to relax, nap, read a book, watch some holo net. Kix and Volte left the convention center to walk down the street, in search of food they hadn't tried as yet; they didn't want to burn out on hotel food when there were small Hosnian Prime native shops within reach to try.

The after lunch program started off with one of the most taboo and terrifying subjects in the medical world: pediatrics. As a general rule, most people were afraid to treat children. They often approached that patient population with the attitude of 'children are just small adults', and 'a silent kid is a dead kid, but a loud kid is annoying.' About the only medic actually excited to attend the class was Minder, who ambled in quickly, found a spot on the front row of the class, and waited eagerly for the speaker to climb the dais. Volte and Kix decided to sit just behind their friend; they didn't want to seem too excited about the topic.

Volte was wary of kids, but wasn't averse to treating them. His General, in fact, kept a job on her home world of treating children hospitalized for various illnesses, and had told him many times of long term patients she'd gotten to know. She seemed to hold a real affection for small patients and always patiently imparted tips to Volte on how to get on their level, gain their trust so that treating them was easier. General Lin always asserted firmly that treating kids was FAR better than dealing with adults, hands down.

There were low chuckles, murmuring, and a few gasps when the presenter climbed up to the podium. The instructor was a small, sprightly young woman, dressed in a costume that looked like a cat, whiskers drawn on her face, with little pointed ears sticking out of her curly hair, and a long tail trailing behind her. She placed a small sheaf of papers on the lectern and looked up at her audience, seeing hundreds of wide, amused to shocked brown eyes staring back.

"Howdy! Welcome to 'How to Approach Younglings: They're Not Armed Bombs.' I’m Madi, and this lecture is going to contain a lot of personal experience, maybe even some tips you might find helpful in the future. The biggest take away I want you to learn is that kids don't have to be terrifying. They're all unique, fiercely brave little souls that will all make a mark on you in some way, most likely permanently. You'll never forget these little patients going forward, especially if you are lucky enough to form a bond with them."

Volte and Kix had both sat up to attention when they saw the speaker’s attire, and Kix looked over at Volte with an amused expression. Her costume was very telling; it left little to the imagination about her form and figure. Kix was staring guilelessly at the woman, amazed that she had the spirit and courage to appear before a room full of single, handsome rakish men dressed as a sexy cat; he was salivating over the thought of getting her comm channel numbers. Volte was simply trying to look attentive and interested for the speaker. Sawbones leaned forward to mutter in Volte's ear, "I'll definitely never forget her wearing that outfit, going forward..."

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to dress up like a cat for you. Let me tell you why, because it certainly wasn't to feed your filthy imaginations." Madi squinted at Sawbones knowingly; she'd seen him say something to Volte that had made the medic shift in his seat uncomfortably. "On my home world, medical professionals that specialize in children often dress up for different occasions, because wonder and imagination are both so important to a child. There is a whole day dedicated to dressing up as someone or something else for fun, and going around asking for candy from adults. At the facility I work at, we have a party on a sky bridge, where all the medical workers dress up for the children, to hand out candy and toys." Madi paused to see more of the clones were intrigued at the thought of her interacting with child patients on some distant planet, dressed up for the part in some tantalizing costume or other.

"Another important thing to remember about kids - they're not just small adults. A child's body is not mature; it's still going through a very complicated growth pattern, as is their mind. It's important to know the different developmental stages for a child, so you know how to interact with them appropriately. For instance, a toddler may hate you on sight, regardless of what you do, because it's within their developmental stage to be afraid of strangers. If you luck out enough to land on a character they're familiar with, you might be able to approach them more easily. Otherwise, you might just be in for a small rodeo."

Volte heard Voodoo mumble, "The kriff is a 'rodeo'?" This was something Volte had a lot of experience with; people were generally confused at many of the quips his General said in the course of a conversation. Even her own men were often forced to make her clarify what she was talking about, and would remind her “Basic... General. Basic." So it made Volte smile a bit seeing General Lin wasn’t the only person who needed a translator for their little euphemisms.

Madi looked at Voodoo a little dryly and huffed out, "Rodeo = wrestling match, same thing."

Sawbones laughed darkly and muttered, "I'd wrestle with her any day, and she can call it whatever she likes."

Rolling her eyes slightly at the male commentary, she continued on, outlining the different stages of mental and emotional development for children, then discussed multiple physical changes that occurred with growth. She wasn't to let their locker room humor stop her from enlightening them about pediatric care. "I've ended up watching holo shows and playing games with multiple patients of all ages, in order to gain and keep their trust. It's actually a very rewarding thing, knowing the kids look to you as something of a friend or protector."

She moved on to the next subject. "Gaining intravenous access on small children, especially infants, is incredibly difficult for those who don't use the skill on a daily basis. Those little veins are hard to see, tiny, and frequently like to roll away from the needle. In that case - and I've checked with your typical supplies - you have intraosseous needles that can be drilled either by hand or by purpose made drill, into the bone." Madi stopped and picked up a strange, burgundy colored power drill with a rather wicked looking, long plastic and metal needle on the end. She hit the trigger and the drill made a noticeable high pitched burrrr and Madi smiled a little wickedly, like an evil scientist with a surgical instrument. Kix's breath caught, his mind throwing images of her securing him to a bed and holding that thing over him threateningly. She stepped off the podium and handed it to Minder, telling him to pass it around so everyone could see it.

"What you're passing around now, is called the 'Easy IO' on my home planet. It's a purpose made power drill that holds an IO needle on the front by magnet, which makes it far easier to access the bone marrow. You find your appropriate site, hold it steady, hit the trigger, and drill that puppy home. Pop it off the drill, unscrew the top and voila, there is a connection beneath to attach IV tubing to." She paused as she saw Jab playing with the drill, his eyes a little dreamy about using it in the field. "Now, the two biggest problems with IO access is pain and pressure caused by infusing through the marrow, and securement so the line doesn't infiltrate into the surrounding musculature and tissue. That's a bad, bad deal. Down the road you also have to worry about osteomyelitis since placing these are always emergent and not usually the cleanest insertions; however, they can stay in up to 24 hours."

The drill had made it back to Carpal, who was hitting the trigger and watching the needle spin in a fascinated, morbid way. He'd heard everything she'd said; he had his hearing aids in so he could catch all the important information. When he got tired of listening, he would sometimes turn them off and snooze in his chair, so that he looked present, or at least like a body occupying a seat.

"These drills have made placing IOs FAR easier than in the past. Once the only choice was to manually insert the needle, by grasping the patient's leg, holding it as steady as you could, and drilling that wicked thing into the bone by hand. I've seen grown men shaking like leaves while inserting them, knowing they were causing pain but doing their best to help the child in question. And if your hand slipped, you could stab yourself through the back of the patient's leg - it was a rough procedure on everyone involved." She saw multiple clones wince in horror. "So the point is, drills are good, getting access is golden, medicate with a numbing adjunct first thing before you infuse volume or meds of any kind - it truly helps with the pain. Any questions?"

Madi surveyed the room with bright eyes, waiting to see if any were brave enough to ask anything. A few were. They tossed back questions and answers for a good thirty minutes and then were dismissed for a break before their next class. Minder immediately stood to corner the little speaker, to ask her more about her personal interactions with pediatric patients, generating trust between them, and how to cope with some of the harder cases. Kix grumbled in Volte's ear as he walked by “Gonna get her comm codes, watch me! See if I can't make that kitten purr,” he said with a salacious grin. Volte shook his head and kept walking; he imagined the girl had teeth and claws to go with her feisty personality, but he knew Kix was nothing if not persistent and bold.

The clones shuffled along to their next two classes in an upbeat mood; the day was nearly over and while it had been a long one, they'd learned a lot of valuable lessons and new information. They all felt it had been a productive day, and were looking forward to getting out, hitting the bar for drinks and camaraderie and laughs...maybe a pretty girl to flirt with or two. Kix had almost decided Hosnian Prime had no females, and that they'd come to some kind of torturous dating desert. Volte had laughed at his complaints, listening to him whine and grumble about the dearth of ladies to talk to, especially after the pediatrics instructor had turned Kix down hard; the rakish clone was still simmering with angst over his failure to woo the cute lecturer.

The last two lectures dealt with communicable disease and infection prevention. The first, 'Preventing Infections: As Easy As Wash Your Kriffing Hands!', dealt with exactly that - how hand washing was the most simple and expedient way to get microbes off of your skin. First, the man took roll call of every clone in the room by their CT number, making sure all were present. He called Kix's number, "CT 6...1...1...6...," waiting for a reply. When Kix didn't answer immediately, because he was too busy whispering something to Minder, the man repeated his number again in a sonorously boring voice. "CT 6...1...1...6...? No? He's not here?" Minder finally shushed Kix and gestured for him to answer the teacher back, so the man would move on. The speaker then blandly, monotonously explained how it was crucial to clean under fingernails while washing, as very harmful bacteria and viruses could live there as well, waiting like little ninja infection warriors to spread and attack new hosts.

He told horror stories of how some people, now infamous to history, had inadvertently spread diseases among the general populous. There was Dragon Pox Mary, who had been hired as a cook for a wealthy and influential family, and unknowingly spread Dragon Pox to them in their food, because she didn't believe handwashing to be necessary. And there was Nurse Katarina Belforto, who'd unfortunately not washed her hands either, and spread another deadly illness to babies under her care, killing or permanently maiming them. It was surprising that such a small thing as handwashing could be the single answer to saving lives.

The clones all sat back in their seats, many with their arms crossed over their chests, staring back at the utterly dry and boring teacher. The stories were vaguely gruesome and grim, but they couldn't over the speaker's dry, droning, slow way of talking. The instructor reached up halfway through his long session and pushed his thick glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, never looking up from the pages of his notes as he ambled on in his speech. If he'd looked up and chanced a glance at his students, he'd have seen glassy, tired, stunned eyes staring back at him like the empty windows of a vacant home - the men were just that bored by his monotonous drone. A few snorts and snores became softly audible after a few minutes, and Volte saw Whiskey suddenly jerk himself back upright after nearly falling out of his chair, having dozed off to sleep. Kix chuckled quietly and glanced at Volte out of the side of his eyes, his expression practically screaming, 'Holy kriff, this guy is boring!' Thankfully the class finally ended and the men all virtually sprinted from the room to wake up for the final lecture, hoping to get their blood pumping and find enough energy to make it through the homestretch of the day.

When they all filed back in for the final class, the men saw the presenter was a doctor at least a few of them had met before at the Grand Republic Medical Center. "Welcome to the final class of the day, men, 'Communicable Diseases: How to Avoid Them While Sitting in a Small Enclosed Space With Others.'" The men all chuckled a little at the title of the class, glancing to either side at their brothers, fellow prisoners of the current enclosed space.

The lecturer continued on, "I am Doctor Eric Coli, and we will discuss some of the finer points of how diseases can spread so easily in small areas, to some extent due to a lack of handwashing, as my fine colleague Sten Bein covered in his lecture." He paused, seeing the clones' eyes all start to glaze over at even the slightest mention of the previous discussion, and laughed softly. "I know you were all positively riveted by that class...," he said, completely devoid of irony. There were a few titters of laughter and a few murmured comments among the crowd; they knew the doctor was being sarcastic.

The medics all found Dr Coli to be witty and entertaining, as he described the horrors of some diseases and how they could spread like wildfire in small communities. He opened the floor up to take commentary on ideas about containing such contagion, since the clones to a large extent were not well versed in infectious disease. While violence was a disease, trauma on the battlefield was not, and the clones were all healthy, genetically enhanced, illness free men. They generally had no need of education on such subjects. To a man, they got their eyes opened that day.

Dr Coli discussed more than one awful disease, such as colonovirus, a notorious sickness that seemed particularly attracted to cruise ships. Victims found themselves overtaken within hours of exposure with severe vomiting and diarrhea, ideation of death (actually, wishing they could die because they were so miserable), and the urgent need for a refund on their trip. It was a yearly malaise, and had picked up multiple nicknames along the years such as 'The Cruise Ship Disease' or 'Montezuma's Revenge', or 'The Curse of The Out of Order Refresher.' The doctor even laughingly read them a poem he'd written about the awful malady when he himself had contracted it after a pleasure cruise to Naboo.

"Oh colonovirus, why dost thou assaulteth my bowels?

Each day I make offerings to ye gods of the refresher in stool softeners and fiber.

How hast I offended thee?

I pray, oh greatest of calamities, return to the depths of the hell from whence thou climbest!

I shall suffer the slings and arrows of your cursed hold no more.

For I shall defeatest thou by means of moist wipes and the washing of my unworthy hands.

By the power of the warm and comforting bidet, I shall vanquish thee!

The clones were all crying tears of laughter by the final stanza of his "Ode to Colonovirus," and all of the men present for the lecture agreed he'd won the best lecture of the day title, (clean) hands down.

He also covered a nightmare respiratory virus that was somewhat new to the galaxy, which up until recently none had any immunity to. The medics all vaguely recalled hearing about the disease and how the general public had reacted to it. People were barred from standing within six feet of each other. All had to wear masks that covered nose and mouth to prevent exposure to droplets. The general populace at large became terrified of their neighbors, terrified for their families, separated and isolated from any and all people. The galaxy had weathered the awful contagion as best it could, though in the end they were forced to more or less suffer through it until immune systems became well acquainted enough to fight back. Vaccines were created, medications patented, but millions of lives were lost before the disease began to release its vile hold on the galaxy.

The poor doctor had worn something of a haunted look while retelling the experiences of the awful virus. While the clones had been isolated and protected on Kamino, they realized the rest of the galaxy had suffered and died, losing loved ones, friends and family alike, fighting a different sort of war, though just as real as the one the clones were battling. The discussion got very real, very fast, and when the class finally ended, the men left feeling immensely lucky for having coasted right by that plague without any issues.

The sports bar was positively hopping with the raucous energy of the clones, finally freed from class and still brimming with amazement at the displays of the vendors. The new technology coming out had them buzzing, most especially the planned medical - evacuation dropship, complete with six bunks for patients. They could feasibly load a couple more in the floor of the ship, taking eight critically wounded with them on a first run. It had the men dreaming excitedly about the possibilities of saving more brothers from death or permanent maiming, if they could cut their field to treatment time down.

Volte and Kix were holding court at the bar, having shouldered their way in for a place there, and refused to give it up. Kix had pulled Minder in next to him so he could sit at one of the bar stools and rest his leg, while Sawbones stood next to Volte, a keen, watchful eye on the crowd of milling clones as they all chattered away about their classes for the day and whatever free goods they'd been given by the different exhibitors.

Whiskey ambled up, ordering a drink and then settling in next to the small knot of clones he'd taken to hanging out with. He and Sawbones started chatting, raising their bottles in greeting when Quarter strolled up to them.

Excitedly, Quarter asked Whiskey what he thought of the new medical platform. He knew they most likely would never need it on Coruscant, but it was neat to dream about it anyway. "I saw it had respiratory gas hook ups, built in monitoring cables that go to a central monitoring system, and even a suction system!," he burbled on. "That's got to make the forward operating medics happy, having all of those hardwired in."

"Oh heck yeah!," Sawbones grunted in reply. "It will come in handy that's for sure." Saw took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows quirking up at a thought, and mischievous light coming into his hard eyes. "Though that built in suction thing isn't a new idea. Right, Kix?"

Kix looked up when his name was called and said, "Huh? You summoned me?"

"Yeah! I was telling Quarter here that the built in suction system on that evac platform isn't a new idea. Is it, Vod?" Sawbones waggled his eyebrows a little and grinned at Kix in something almost of a leer. There was a story lurking there, which was backed up by the dull blush that crept up Kix's neck into his high cheekbones.

"Not nice, Sawbones," Kix said in a low voice, trying to warn his brother off of telling all his dirty secrets.

"Oh, I think it's completely necessary, don't you Quarter?" Sawbones grinned over at his other batchmate brother and saw him laugh, realizing where Saw was going with this. Kix gave Quarter a withering look, his face moving into a very resigned expression, knowing what was coming.

A small crowd had grown around their little group; somehow people always *knew* when tea was about to be spilled and gravitated toward it. The group had expanded to Scope, a medic serving under Commander Bly and General Secura, Friendly, an outgoing medic that typically patrolled Hutt Space with his battalion, Chance, a very young, red headed clone still working out of Kamino, Siren, Patcher, Patch, Voodoo, and Sentinel, the CMO of the 117th Recon Battalion. All were standing around, eagerly awaiting the gory details of the story about the infamous Kix of Torrent Company as a cadet.

"So, when Kix, Quarter and I were all baby medics back on Kamino, they had us go up on a training mission in one of the newer LA ATs that had some medical revisions. The two old training medics with us - they were like gods, you know? Full of knowledge and experience, untouchable by us shinies." Saw's eyes took on a slightly faraway look as he remembered back to the day in question. "Anyway, so these two clones, Duran and Morrow, take us up and were explaining the different switches and buttons on that particular ship, while we all sat around staring at them like dreamy kids. And I guess Kix looked particularly ripe for this little prank, because they focused on him."

Sawbones laughed ruefully, the memories making it difficult to get it out without giggling maniacally. "They were all, 'So this button is the suction button. When you push that button, it makes the LAAT go up, because this scoop on the bottom drops down, and changes the ship's altitude. Got it?' And Kix man, he was so wide eyed, like some young quivrey, staring back at them like they wore halos and light shone out of their ass.” The men in the group were starting to smile, a few low chuckles breaking out, envisioning the look on Kix's face as he bought this bantha shit story from the salty old medics. All of the men had been there in some way too; they were no strangers to hazing. Kix looked on with a sour expression on his face, though he was starting to smile against his will.

"Duran then goes on to tell Kix and the rest of us, 'So, if you hit the button again to turn off the suction, the ship will drop, because the scoop closed and it's no longer pushing the ship up, got it?' And Kix nods like the good little shiny he was - Vod was completely sold on this karking story," Sawbones laughed gruffly.

“Morrow like, leaned back in his seat and said, 'Okay kid, hit the button *now*, test it out.' And Kix did what he was told. And damned if that LAAT didn’t climb, just like they'd said it would." Saw paused to take a sip of his drink, while everyone shot some looks at Kix, half suspecting what was coming next.

"They had all of us at that point - we'd bought it hook, line and sinker," Quarter interjected with a low chuckle. "Gullible little babies that we were." The group all grinned and giggled, starting to realized what was about to happen.

Whiskey picked the story back up, "So then Duran tells Kix, ' Okay kid, hit the button to turn it off *now*.' Kix is all do do doooo (as Sawbones mimicked a silly kid ambling along cluelessly), hits the button, and then proceeds to scream like a girl as the ship bottomed out, dropping - I kriff you not - at least 500 feet in a second. We were all basically floating in air, zero gravity for a minute, watching our very short lives pass before our eyes, as Duran and Morrow laughed like two gargoyles at the group of shinies pissing themselves in front of them." Sawbones had forced the last sentence out through a stream of gurgling, wheezing laughs, while the rest of the group chuckled and gave Kix patronizing yet sympathetic looks.

"You know, those two karking a-holes never apologized for scaring a few years off our lives. I legitimately thought we were going to die," Kix snarled out, the embarrassing post, near-death experience still stinging. He looked back on it with humor, though he couldn't admit that to the group at hand. Kix saw Volte take a sip of his drink to hide a gleeful smirk, while Quarter chuckled at the memory. Kix gave his batch mate a hard look and sputtered, “Quarter, you've got no room to laugh - you screamed just as loud as I did and I know you had a short run of V tach. I thought we were gonna have to hit you with the paddles!”

Quarter positively giggled. “I can't deny it, they got us good. Those two jokers were some of the best training officers on Kamino. Force knows how they got away with even half of the stuff they did." Quarter shook his head in memory of the unparalleled shenanigans Duran and Morrow were famous for.

"Volte what about you? Got any good stories to tell from serving with the Dragon General?," Voodoo asked. "I heard Echo's first time up with her on that thing, it dove for a vulture droid and he screamed like a child over the open comm channels.” The group started laughing at the mental image of one of the more famous ARC Troopers embarrassing himself in such a way.

Volte chewed on some ice for a minute out of his glass, pondering the question. There were so many stories from Dragon Company, actually, most of which never saw the light of day. General Lin was rather infamous for tomfoolery herself, let alone the stuff she condoned within the ranks. "I wasn't there when that happened - that story was from the Battle of Teth and we weren't a Company yet. But she took Captain Primer up one day with her on that beast of hers, and when they got back he was holding onto her waist with his eyes screwed shut so tight we had to pry him off of her." The group all tittered with chuckles at that; Primer was known to be a brave, completely competent clone commander. They all struggled to imagine him afraid of anything, thought they all thought to a man they'd probably have taken any excuse to get their arms around General Lin if given the chance.

Quarter muttered softly into his glass, "You sure he was holding onto her purely out of fear?" He took a quick sip and then looked at Volte more squarely. "I've heard through the grapevine that he follows her for more reasons than just orders..." He saw Kix grin and gave his vod a wink, while Volte cleared his throat a little loudly and very obviously took a swig of his drink, shooting a quelling look at Quarter.

A new clone had joined the group about midway through the story, named Cheese. He was from the Mist Squad, under the 767 Recon Division, and the man loved anything related to gossip. Photography was a hobby of his, and he like to take group photos of his brothers when the opportunity struck. His eyes were sharp as he listened to the tea pertaining to the infamous General Lin. He suddenly pulled a data pad off his belt and held it up to snap a picture of the group, quickly blurting out "Say Cheese!," as he hit the photo button. The others stared back at him a little blandly; tolerating Cheese's habit was something most were used to by now. He'd already made the rounds through most of the clones getting proof of life many times over. They would soon realize the benefits of having allowed the somewhat socially awkward medic to record the conference in photos; the men would have many images of their brothers enjoying lighthearted moments, camaraderie and fun to look back on. Some of the men he captured in the holographic images on his data pad would not be there the next time the conference came about, and while all knew this, it was an unspoken, dark truth that moved beneath the surface like a cold current of air.

The party rolled on as more clones stuffed themselves into the bar, and Kix's night was made when Madi the young pediatrics lecturer popped up at the bar next to him, a little mischievous smirk on her cute face, one eyebrow arched as she watched Kix's face for a reaction. Volte did a double take at seeing her there, then laughed when he saw Kix's eyes nearly fall out of his head realizing she was there in person, waiting for him to speak to her. Volte looked over at Sawbones and Whiskey and sighed. "Guess I'll be crashing in your room tonight, boys."

A perky, bright voice answered him back from the other side of Kix. "Oh no! I wanted to get to know both of you."

Volte choked on his drink, his eyes going wide as he looked back at the girl in shock. She smiled back impishly.

Sawbones, Whiskey and Quarter all traded glances around, and Sawbones muttered, "We can leave the door unlocked in case you need the two of us to come rescue you at ANY point, Vod." He elbowed Volte and gave him a salacious wink, grumbling "Lucky bastards," as he sipped his drink, watching the trio head off out of the bar. Volte looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide like a prisoner stumbling off to the gallows, unsure of just what he'd suddenly been roped into, but unable to stop his feet from following the sprightly, cute girl leading him by the hand with a cheshire cat grin on her face, as Kix walked beside like a king ascending to his throne.

Credits:

Kix - CT 6116 Medic of Torrent Company, 501st Legion

Volte - CT 2403 Dragon Company CMO, property of CloneMedicKix

Sawbones - CT 2697 Wolfpack CMO, 104th Battalion, property of Wizardofrozz

Quarter - ARC 2525 Republic Intelligence medic, property of Hetalianskywalker

Whiskey - CC 6891 CMO 104th Battalion, property of Banks's-rat

Voodoo - CT 0127 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sev-on-Kamino

Cheese - CT 2437, Medic of Mist Squad, 767 Recon Division, property of Homemade-clones

Friendly - Medic of 387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Chance - CT 5243 Medic of Phoenix Squad, property of The-Bad-Batch-Baroness

Patch - Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sunshinedaydream

Patcher - CT 1110 Coruscant Guard CMO, property of Stargazingbunny

Siren - CT 6161 Coruscant Guard medic, property of 523rdrebel

Sentinel - CT 26-0207, CMO of 117th Recon Battalion, property of Liluthenerd

Scope - CT 4466 Medic of 327th Battalion, property of Mythical Illustrator

Stretcher - CT 3880, Medic of 327th Star Corps, property of A-single-tulip

Heron - Medic of 218th Company, property of King-chaos-world

Jab - Junior medic of Phoenix Company, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Captain Jaro - CT 1926, CMO of 16th Medical Battalion, property of Sweetmugofcocoa

Minder - CT 6334-2 Jedi Medical Company, property of Mythical Illustrator

Carpal - CC 6666 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Mythical Illustrator

Taglist!

@mythical-illustrator @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @moonlightwarriorqueen @523rdrebel @king-chaos-world @starrrgazingbunny @the-bad-batch-baroness @swarovski-yoda @homemade-clones @hetalianskywalker @a-single-tulip @banksys-rat @sev-on-kamino @vodika-vibes @sunshinesdaydream @liluthenerd @sweetmugofcocoa @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @villanousace @theogfulcrum22 @starrylothcat @anxiouspineapple99 @mire-draws-things @cloneloverrrrr @mandos-mind-trick @padawancat97 @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @isthereanechoinhere96 @jediknightjana @wackylurker @starqueensthings @dickarchivist @amorfista @marierg

EMS dividers by MEEEEEEEE!

Final Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

[clonemedickix]

I think I enjoyed making “Ode to Colonovirus” most 😂

And my training officers never apologized for trying to kill me either. They’re all the same, regardless of the galaxy.

Rating: M

Word count: 7.5K

Pairing: OC Clone Medics

Warnings: Mention of medical trauma, mention of medical procedures, mention of prehospital care and trauma, discussion on pediatric care, alcohol use, implied substance abuse/impairment, implied sexual activity, medical humor, prehospital humor (it's snide y'all, that's the reality)

Excerpt Summary - Day One of the 1st Annual GAR Medic Conference

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First Day: Watch Out For That Drop!

Clones started to file into the appointed lecture room for the first class, finding tables laden with breakfast pastries, cereal and blue milk, large steaming carafes full of caf. There were a lot of bleary-eyed men wandering about, hungover from the previous night of drinking, laughing and story telling at various restaurants and bars. The group was fairly quiet, considering how loud and raucous they'd been the night before, and Volte was secretly feeling quite smug over the rest he'd managed to get before starting classes that morning. It wouldn't last; Kix was not about to agree to another night of simply going to bed. He'd come to party and relive stories, and he wasn't going to let Volte's boring personality drag him down.

Sawbones and Whiskey sauntered into the room, also looking more bright eyed and bushy tailed than most of the others gathered around the table. Sawbones quickly moved to the caf table, giving a few of the younger, hung over clones sharp looks that had them shifting out of his way. He even growled "MOVE!" at one that hadn't gotten the message from his body language. The groggy medic looked up in surprise, blinking as if the light were too hard, saw the grizzled old clone's expression, and quickly moved as ordered.

The first day of classes started with a bang, almost literally. "Advanced Airway Management for Facial Trauma: What To Do When Holes Are Present That Shouldn’t Be" discussed such things as facial trauma from shrapnel wounds, blaster wounds, and stab wounds. The medics were all educated and most, though not all, were seasoned by having been in the field in some capacity. Airway management was always critically important; the C-ABCs were the most crucial steps in first response to save a patient. One of the younger medics, Chance, leaned over to his neighbor, Heron, a medic from the 218th Company, and asked "What do they stand for, again?"

Heron stared at the little shiny brother for a moment wryly, as if wondering why the fresh kid was asking something so obvious, and then muttered back, "Catastrophic Hemorrhage, Airway, Breathing and Circulation."

"Ahhh, thanks, 'Vod," Chance whispered back, flashing him a little smile.

The subject matter and attendant images were pretty harsh for a first-thing-in-the-morning class, but medical people were strange. They could handle looking at evisceration over a plate of spaghetti, or discussing dismemberment and gross bodily functions while eating dinner. An outside observer might wonder what was wrong with these people - how they could be so numb to horrific images - but the men all sat sprawled back and half awake in their chairs, sipping caf and munching on breakfast pastries while listening attentively to the lecturer.

A particularly gruesome image with an attached story was of a nat born civilian injury, in which someone had contrived to shoot them in the face. The front of their jaw and a lot of their lower face was missing, creating an airway nightmare scenario for the medics to ponder. The presenter stopped the class for a moment to take ideas on how the students would secure the patient's airway.

Stretcher, a noticeably taller than average medic with the 327th Star Corps spoke up. "Was the patient breathing on their own? I mean, if they're getting air, maybe just support, scoop and run."

The lecturer nodded, saying, "That's one idea. Any others?"

Volte leaned forward a bit and spoke up. "Intubate the patient. Follow the bubbles - where the patient's breath meets blood there will be bubbles and that should identify the airway. Secure it with a laryngoscope blade and pop a tube in there, because there's no guarantee how long they'll be conscious enough to keep breathing on their own, no matter how fast you run."

"Good, very good. Following the bubbles is a legitimate method. Would you use a facial mask over a patient like this?," the teacher asked.

Heads shook to say no. Bagging a patient like that would cause the remaining airway, teeth and tongue structures to collapse and further occlude the airway. It would be a disaster without proper jaw thrust to keep the tongue from falling back over the trachea; better to use a high flow face mask until real securement was in place.

"Very good, class. Any other suggestions?," the lecturer asked. This was the last discussion portion of his class and always generated some good feedback.

Once again, Volte spoke up. "One could always place a surgical airway, bypassing the entire upper trachea and the wounded area, but there's also a couple of types of airway adjuncts from my General's home planet, called the Combitube and King Airway. They're a blind intubation method - they can end up in the esophagus and yet still provide oxygenation and ventilation because of the position of their side holes. They were designed for things like this, when you have to just stuff the tube in blindly and hope for the best."

"That's very interesting. Have you used these tools, or seen them in real life?" The instructor seemed quite intrigued; this whole convention was about teaching new methods, updating education and showing off new technology. He'd love to get his hands on these tools being discussed.

"I have seen the King Airway, used it in fact. My General has brought us several implements from her home world to use in the field. I've found they help a lot - cut down a lot of the time to treatment element and help us get the wounded off the field quicker." Volte held up his data pad. "I've got some images stored on my data pad I can show you."

Kix coughed loudly and covered his mouth as he gasped out, "Be sure it's not the pinup pictures!" Several men heard him and chuckled as Volte looked over at him with a disgusted grunt and elbowed Kix in the ribs.

Volte snapped back something he'd heard General Lin say in jest when telling a trooper to shut it and leave. "Get thee gone Satan, or I will smite thee with my data pad and tape your mouth shut with conduit tape." Kix chuckled and walked out the door to stretch his legs while Volte and the instructor had their nerd moment over the airway adjuncts.

The class emptied out for a break before the next session started, "Rapid Sedation: How to Restrain Your Patient in Fives Seconds Without the Use of Conduit Tape." As the men trickled back in from the refresher and more caf, Volte and Kix grabbed seats near their little core group, seeing all of the Corries clumping together as well. Sedating patients was always a topic of discussion and sometimes jokes with medics, especially the Coruscant Guard, who as a general rule had to contend with the element of drunk partygoers or recreational substance use on all levels of the Capital ecumenopolus. Even the rich, famous and Senatorial types weren't innocent of the occasional dalliance.

To everyone's surprise, the speaker was an old nat born training medic from Kamino, famous for her assertive, indomitable will, her small stature and fierce eyes, nicknamed 'Pockets'. Few patients or students ever crossed her, afraid of seeing the wrath boiling in her cool blue eyes. Pockets was small, but a hurricane-like force of nature, and those who'd challenged her in the wild always found she was ever ready to sidestep the battle with a quick stab of a needle in a well placed muscle. She was not there to play games, she'd say. Pockets was there to help, even if it meant taking you out of the picture so she could do her job.

The group of clones were fascinated that such a small female could do so much with so little; the men were all no shorter than six foot two, give or take a couple inches either way. It was a rare day when someone out of their head challenged them, but it still happened occasionally, and every clone to a man believed that little Pockets would have a bull reek fully immobilized in less than five minutes, by herself. Sawbones gleefully imagined her strapping him to a bed with tape and having her way with him - he liked bullheaded, assertive girls that didn't back down.

"There are hundreds of medications spanning the range of emergency antipsychotic medications to straight sedation and pain classes, which can also serve the same purpose. In extreme cases, where a patient's psychosis or high goes too far and they require the aid of us assisting breathing, a small cocktail is required." Pockets paused, glancing around the room at her attentive audience. They were all breathtakingly handsome, and their dark eyes blinking back at her wiped her train of thought for a second. She cleared her throat, grasping at the threads of her lecture once more. "It was actually developed for the use of sedating and securing the airway of mothers in obstetrical distress, needing immediate surgical delivery and a patient airway. Given in the appropriate order and dose, the treatment team was able to knock the patient out without causing them to vomit reflexively, putting the airway at risk due to aspiration.” Pockets took a quick breath and then finished by saying, “So thank the next pregnant lady you see for rapid sedation protocols- they did you a favor.”

The lecture continued on in the same vein, as she covered the different medications, a short blurb about their history and pharmacology, pharmacokinetics, dosing and route of administration. She covered a few medications that could be given without intravenous access, which still had to be injected. "Sometimes, it's just satisfying to stab a truly unruly patient with a needle and watch them finally hit the wall of sleep. Definitely more humane than what one former partner of mine did. He used every roll of conduit tape in the ship to mummify the patient to the spine board after the guy decked me. I fell out the back of the ship, which was thankfully still on the platform, and really cracked my head hard. My partner didn't take too kindly to that, and since we had a trainee aboard, he and the newbie wrapped that guy head to toe with the tape to hold him down and keep him from hurting anyone else. They left his eyes, mouth and nose free of course, but it's safe to say the guy got a free waxing he didn't plan for when he started his day."

Pockets retold the story with a pretty neutral tone, though her eyes glimmered a bit with laughter. To some, the story probably seemed a little hard on the patient, but to others, like the Corries, it was all too familiar, recalling the many times some patients were less respectful, kind and cooperative, bordering more on the side of unsafe and dangerous to the medics and their crew. No medical crew should ever have to fear for their lives for simply trying to help a person. The forward operating medics all shot glances at the Corries, knowing this was more in their realm of expertise; it was rare that a wounded man in the field acted with such abandon and violence toward their medical officers. Sure, they could and would use the knowledge gained from this class to better care for their brothers, but they didn't plan on having to sedate them for behavioral issues. Now, doing it as a prank... that conduit tape mummification gag sounded pretty attractive to several of them, eyeing their neighbor a little mischievously or thinking of a certain brother they'd love to see strapped to a board. A few day dreams included visions of toting said brother around the base while still taped on the backboard, leaning him against the wall like he was nothing more than a curious object while continuing on blissfully with their lives...

Jab, a junior medic attached to Phoenix Company, chuckled softly and murmured to his neighbor, Captain Jaro of the 16th Medical Battalion, "Those injectable sedatives would be fun to carry in some of our autoinjectors. Can you imagine? Guy gets rowdy and you're like, 'Calm down or you're gonna get a poke.' Guy keeps fighting, 'One, two... stabby stab.'" He chuckled again; he was notorious for giving meds off count - it always took the men by surprise, as they trusted him enough to believe he would get to three before poking them, but no, not Jab. He believed in getting the negative stuff over with as quickly as possible.

The Corries as usual were all sitting together in a group, and Voodoo leaned over to Patcher, saying, "So, this means we're completely justified in sedating unruly supervisors that don't take care of themselves too, right?"

Patch laughed and answered back, "I'm not sure what YOU did was necessarily within the protocols, but justified? ...Maybe..."

Siren fixed Voodoo with a stern look and said, "Fox completely deserved what you did! If he wasn't going to look after himself, it's the medic's job to do so. When it comes to the health of the troopers, the medic is in charge."

Voodoo grinned back at the support of his brothers. Their Marshall Commander, Fox, had a bad tendency to work himself to death and refuse food and sleep until whatever obsession was on his plate was taken care of. When Voodoo was still somewhat new to the Coruscant Guard, he'd seen the man get particularly haggard and ground down after a long hitch of watching Senators for some big wig meeting in the Capital. When the rest of the men started to complain about how short tempered, hangry and down right bitchy Fox was getting, Voodoo decided to take matters into his own hands. He made a pretense to visit Fox in his office, moved to look at something over Fox's shoulder, and quickly stabbed him in the neck with an autoinjector of sedatives.

Fox had reacted like a snake bit him, shooting out of his desk chair with a strangled, "What in karking HELL did you just give...me..." as he crumpled to the floor and immediately drew in a stuporous snore.

Voodoo stood over him with triumphant grin, then hailed Thorn over his comm device to come help him get the Commander to some place more comfortable than the floor. When Fox woke up two days later, he found a warm, nutritious breakfast spread on the table next to him, as well as a note from Voodoo that simply stated, "And I'd do it again."

When the class broke up, the men all wandered off to find lunch. They had a good while before the next class started, so some of the medics headed back to their rooms to relax, nap, read a book, watch some holo net. Kix and Volte left the convention center to walk down the street, in search of food they hadn't tried as yet; they didn't want to burn out on hotel food when there were small Hosnian Prime native shops within reach to try.

The after lunch program started off with one of the most taboo and terrifying subjects in the medical world: pediatrics. As a general rule, most people were afraid to treat children. They often approached that patient population with the attitude of 'children are just small adults', and 'a silent kid is a dead kid, but a loud kid is annoying.' About the only medic actually excited to attend the class was Minder, who ambled in quickly, found a spot on the front row of the class, and waited eagerly for the speaker to climb the dais. Volte and Kix decided to sit just behind their friend; they didn't want to seem too excited about the topic.

Volte was wary of kids, but wasn't averse to treating them. His General, in fact, kept a job on her home world of treating children hospitalized for various illnesses, and had told him many times of long term patients she'd gotten to know. She seemed to hold a real affection for small patients and always patiently imparted tips to Volte on how to get on their level, gain their trust so that treating them was easier. General Lin always asserted firmly that treating kids was FAR better than dealing with adults, hands down.

There were low chuckles, murmuring, and a few gasps when the presenter climbed up to the podium. The instructor was a small, sprightly young woman, dressed in a costume that looked like a cat, whiskers drawn on her face, with little pointed ears sticking out of her curly hair, and a long tail trailing behind her. She placed a small sheaf of papers on the lectern and looked up at her audience, seeing hundreds of wide, amused to shocked brown eyes staring back.

"Howdy! Welcome to 'How to Approach Younglings: They're Not Armed Bombs.' I’m Madi, and this lecture is going to contain a lot of personal experience, maybe even some tips you might find helpful in the future. The biggest take away I want you to learn is that kids don't have to be terrifying. They're all unique, fiercely brave little souls that will all make a mark on you in some way, most likely permanently. You'll never forget these little patients going forward, especially if you are lucky enough to form a bond with them."

Volte and Kix had both sat up to attention when they saw the speaker’s attire, and Kix looked over at Volte with an amused expression. Her costume was very telling; it left little to the imagination about her form and figure. Kix was staring guilelessly at the woman, amazed that she had the spirit and courage to appear before a room full of single, handsome rakish men dressed as a sexy cat; he was salivating over the thought of getting her comm channel numbers. Volte was simply trying to look attentive and interested for the speaker. Sawbones leaned forward to mutter in Volte's ear, "I'll definitely never forget her wearing that outfit, going forward..."

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to dress up like a cat for you. Let me tell you why, because it certainly wasn't to feed your filthy imaginations." Madi squinted at Sawbones knowingly; she'd seen him say something to Volte that had made the medic shift in his seat uncomfortably. "On my home world, medical professionals that specialize in children often dress up for different occasions, because wonder and imagination are both so important to a child. There is a whole day dedicated to dressing up as someone or something else for fun, and going around asking for candy from adults. At the facility I work at, we have a party on a sky bridge, where all the medical workers dress up for the children, to hand out candy and toys." Madi paused to see more of the clones were intrigued at the thought of her interacting with child patients on some distant planet, dressed up for the part in some tantalizing costume or other.

"Another important thing to remember about kids - they're not just small adults. A child's body is not mature; it's still going through a very complicated growth pattern, as is their mind. It's important to know the different developmental stages for a child, so you know how to interact with them appropriately. For instance, a toddler may hate you on sight, regardless of what you do, because it's within their developmental stage to be afraid of strangers. If you luck out enough to land on a character they're familiar with, you might be able to approach them more easily. Otherwise, you might just be in for a small rodeo."

Volte heard Voodoo mumble, "The kriff is a 'rodeo'?" This was something Volte had a lot of experience with; people were generally confused at many of the quips his General said in the course of a conversation. Even her own men were often forced to make her clarify what she was talking about, and would remind her “Basic... General. Basic." So it made Volte smile a bit seeing General Lin wasn’t the only person who needed a translator for their little euphemisms.

Madi looked at Voodoo a little dryly and huffed out, "Rodeo = wrestling match, same thing."

Sawbones laughed darkly and muttered, "I'd wrestle with her any day, and she can call it whatever she likes."

Rolling her eyes slightly at the male commentary, she continued on, outlining the different stages of mental and emotional development for children, then discussed multiple physical changes that occurred with growth. She wasn't to let their locker room humor stop her from enlightening them about pediatric care. "I've ended up watching holo shows and playing games with multiple patients of all ages, in order to gain and keep their trust. It's actually a very rewarding thing, knowing the kids look to you as something of a friend or protector."

She moved on to the next subject. "Gaining intravenous access on small children, especially infants, is incredibly difficult for those who don't use the skill on a daily basis. Those little veins are hard to see, tiny, and frequently like to roll away from the needle. In that case - and I've checked with your typical supplies - you have intraosseous needles that can be drilled either by hand or by purpose made drill, into the bone." Madi stopped and picked up a strange, burgundy colored power drill with a rather wicked looking, long plastic and metal needle on the end. She hit the trigger and the drill made a noticeable high pitched burrrr and Madi smiled a little wickedly, like an evil scientist with a surgical instrument. Kix's breath caught, his mind throwing images of her securing him to a bed and holding that thing over him threateningly. She stepped off the podium and handed it to Minder, telling him to pass it around so everyone could see it.

"What you're passing around now, is called the 'Easy IO' on my home planet. It's a purpose made power drill that holds an IO needle on the front by magnet, which makes it far easier to access the bone marrow. You find your appropriate site, hold it steady, hit the trigger, and drill that puppy home. Pop it off the drill, unscrew the top and voila, there is a connection beneath to attach IV tubing to." She paused as she saw Jab playing with the drill, his eyes a little dreamy about using it in the field. "Now, the two biggest problems with IO access is pain and pressure caused by infusing through the marrow, and securement so the line doesn't infiltrate into the surrounding musculature and tissue. That's a bad, bad deal. Down the road you also have to worry about osteomyelitis since placing these are always emergent and not usually the cleanest insertions; however, they can stay in up to 24 hours."

The drill had made it back to Carpal, who was hitting the trigger and watching the needle spin in a fascinated, morbid way. He'd heard everything she'd said; he had his hearing aids in so he could catch all the important information. When he got tired of listening, he would sometimes turn them off and snooze in his chair, so that he looked present, or at least like a body occupying a seat.

"These drills have made placing IOs FAR easier than in the past. Once the only choice was to manually insert the needle, by grasping the patient's leg, holding it as steady as you could, and drilling that wicked thing into the bone by hand. I've seen grown men shaking like leaves while inserting them, knowing they were causing pain but doing their best to help the child in question. And if your hand slipped, you could stab yourself through the back of the patient's leg - it was a rough procedure on everyone involved." She saw multiple clones wince in horror. "So the point is, drills are good, getting access is golden, medicate with a numbing adjunct first thing before you infuse volume or meds of any kind - it truly helps with the pain. Any questions?"

Madi surveyed the room with bright eyes, waiting to see if any were brave enough to ask anything. A few were. They tossed back questions and answers for a good thirty minutes and then were dismissed for a break before their next class. Minder immediately stood to corner the little speaker, to ask her more about her personal interactions with pediatric patients, generating trust between them, and how to cope with some of the harder cases. Kix grumbled in Volte's ear as he walked by “Gonna get her comm codes, watch me! See if I can't make that kitten purr,” he said with a salacious grin. Volte shook his head and kept walking; he imagined the girl had teeth and claws to go with her feisty personality, but he knew Kix was nothing if not persistent and bold.

The clones shuffled along to their next two classes in an upbeat mood; the day was nearly over and while it had been a long one, they'd learned a lot of valuable lessons and new information. They all felt it had been a productive day, and were looking forward to getting out, hitting the bar for drinks and camaraderie and laughs...maybe a pretty girl to flirt with or two. Kix had almost decided Hosnian Prime had no females, and that they'd come to some kind of torturous dating desert. Volte had laughed at his complaints, listening to him whine and grumble about the dearth of ladies to talk to, especially after the pediatrics instructor had turned Kix down hard; the rakish clone was still simmering with angst over his failure to woo the cute lecturer.

The last two lectures dealt with communicable disease and infection prevention. The first, 'Preventing Infections: As Easy As Wash Your Kriffing Hands!', dealt with exactly that - how hand washing was the most simple and expedient way to get microbes off of your skin. First, the man took roll call of every clone in the room by their CT number, making sure all were present. He called Kix's number, "CT 6...1...1...6...," waiting for a reply. When Kix didn't answer immediately, because he was too busy whispering something to Minder, the man repeated his number again in a sonorously boring voice. "CT 6...1...1...6...? No? He's not here?" Minder finally shushed Kix and gestured for him to answer the teacher back, so the man would move on. The speaker then blandly, monotonously explained how it was crucial to clean under fingernails while washing, as very harmful bacteria and viruses could live there as well, waiting like little ninja infection warriors to spread and attack new hosts.

He told horror stories of how some people, now infamous to history, had inadvertently spread diseases among the general populous. There was Dragon Pox Mary, who had been hired as a cook for a wealthy and influential family, and unknowingly spread Dragon Pox to them in their food, because she didn't believe handwashing to be necessary. And there was Nurse Katarina Belforto, who'd unfortunately not washed her hands either, and spread another deadly illness to babies under her care, killing or permanently maiming them. It was surprising that such a small thing as handwashing could be the single answer to saving lives.

The clones all sat back in their seats, many with their arms crossed over their chests, staring back at the utterly dry and boring teacher. The stories were vaguely gruesome and grim, but they couldn't over the speaker's dry, droning, slow way of talking. The instructor reached up halfway through his long session and pushed his thick glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, never looking up from the pages of his notes as he ambled on in his speech. If he'd looked up and chanced a glance at his students, he'd have seen glassy, tired, stunned eyes staring back at him like the empty windows of a vacant home - the men were just that bored by his monotonous drone. A few snorts and snores became softly audible after a few minutes, and Volte saw Whiskey suddenly jerk himself back upright after nearly falling out of his chair, having dozed off to sleep. Kix chuckled quietly and glanced at Volte out of the side of his eyes, his expression practically screaming, 'Holy kriff, this guy is boring!' Thankfully the class finally ended and the men all virtually sprinted from the room to wake up for the final lecture, hoping to get their blood pumping and find enough energy to make it through the homestretch of the day.

When they all filed back in for the final class, the men saw the presenter was a doctor at least a few of them had met before at the Grand Republic Medical Center. "Welcome to the final class of the day, men, 'Communicable Diseases: How to Avoid Them While Sitting in a Small Enclosed Space With Others.'" The men all chuckled a little at the title of the class, glancing to either side at their brothers, fellow prisoners of the current enclosed space.

The lecturer continued on, "I am Doctor Eric Coli, and we will discuss some of the finer points of how diseases can spread so easily in small areas, to some extent due to a lack of handwashing, as my fine colleague Sten Bein covered in his lecture." He paused, seeing the clones' eyes all start to glaze over at even the slightest mention of the previous discussion, and laughed softly. "I know you were all positively riveted by that class...," he said, completely devoid of irony. There were a few titters of laughter and a few murmured comments among the crowd; they knew the doctor was being sarcastic.

The medics all found Dr Coli to be witty and entertaining, as he described the horrors of some diseases and how they could spread like wildfire in small communities. He opened the floor up to take commentary on ideas about containing such contagion, since the clones to a large extent were not well versed in infectious disease. While violence was a disease, trauma on the battlefield was not, and the clones were all healthy, genetically enhanced, illness free men. They generally had no need of education on such subjects. To a man, they got their eyes opened that day.

Dr Coli discussed more than one awful disease, such as colonovirus, a notorious sickness that seemed particularly attracted to cruise ships. Victims found themselves overtaken within hours of exposure with severe vomiting and diarrhea, ideation of death (actually, wishing they could die because they were so miserable), and the urgent need for a refund on their trip. It was a yearly malaise, and had picked up multiple nicknames along the years such as 'The Cruise Ship Disease' or 'Montezuma's Revenge', or 'The Curse of The Out of Order Refresher.' The doctor even laughingly read them a poem he'd written about the awful malady when he himself had contracted it after a pleasure cruise to Naboo.

"Oh colonovirus, why dost thou assaulteth my bowels?

Each day I make offerings to ye gods of the refresher in stool softeners and fiber.

How hast I offended thee?

I pray, oh greatest of calamities, return to the depths of the hell from whence thou climbest!

I shall suffer the slings and arrows of your cursed hold no more.

For I shall defeatest thou by means of moist wipes and the washing of my unworthy hands.

By the power of the warm and comforting bidet, I shall vanquish thee!

The clones were all crying tears of laughter by the final stanza of his "Ode to Colonovirus," and all of the men present for the lecture agreed he'd won the best lecture of the day title, (clean) hands down.

He also covered a nightmare respiratory virus that was somewhat new to the galaxy, which up until recently none had any immunity to. The medics all vaguely recalled hearing about the disease and how the general public had reacted to it. People were barred from standing within six feet of each other. All had to wear masks that covered nose and mouth to prevent exposure to droplets. The general populace at large became terrified of their neighbors, terrified for their families, separated and isolated from any and all people. The galaxy had weathered the awful contagion as best it could, though in the end they were forced to more or less suffer through it until immune systems became well acquainted enough to fight back. Vaccines were created, medications patented, but millions of lives were lost before the disease began to release its vile hold on the galaxy.

The poor doctor had worn something of a haunted look while retelling the experiences of the awful virus. While the clones had been isolated and protected on Kamino, they realized the rest of the galaxy had suffered and died, losing loved ones, friends and family alike, fighting a different sort of war, though just as real as the one the clones were battling. The discussion got very real, very fast, and when the class finally ended, the men left feeling immensely lucky for having coasted right by that plague without any issues.

The sports bar was positively hopping with the raucous energy of the clones, finally freed from class and still brimming with amazement at the displays of the vendors. The new technology coming out had them buzzing, most especially the planned medical - evacuation dropship, complete with six bunks for patients. They could feasibly load a couple more in the floor of the ship, taking eight critically wounded with them on a first run. It had the men dreaming excitedly about the possibilities of saving more brothers from death or permanent maiming, if they could cut their field to treatment time down.

Volte and Kix were holding court at the bar, having shouldered their way in for a place there, and refused to give it up. Kix had pulled Minder in next to him so he could sit at one of the bar stools and rest his leg, while Sawbones stood next to Volte, a keen, watchful eye on the crowd of milling clones as they all chattered away about their classes for the day and whatever free goods they'd been given by the different exhibitors.

Whiskey ambled up, ordering a drink and then settling in next to the small knot of clones he'd taken to hanging out with. He and Sawbones started chatting, raising their bottles in greeting when Quarter strolled up to them.

Excitedly, Quarter asked Whiskey what he thought of the new medical platform. He knew they most likely would never need it on Coruscant, but it was neat to dream about it anyway. "I saw it had respiratory gas hook ups, built in monitoring cables that go to a central monitoring system, and even a suction system!," he burbled on. "That's got to make the forward operating medics happy, having all of those hardwired in."

"Oh heck yeah!," Sawbones grunted in reply. "It will come in handy that's for sure." Saw took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows quirking up at a thought, and mischievous light coming into his hard eyes. "Though that built in suction thing isn't a new idea. Right, Kix?"

Kix looked up when his name was called and said, "Huh? You summoned me?"

"Yeah! I was telling Quarter here that the built in suction system on that evac platform isn't a new idea. Is it, Vod?" Sawbones waggled his eyebrows a little and grinned at Kix in something almost of a leer. There was a story lurking there, which was backed up by the dull blush that crept up Kix's neck into his high cheekbones.

"Not nice, Sawbones," Kix said in a low voice, trying to warn his brother off of telling all his dirty secrets.

"Oh, I think it's completely necessary, don't you Quarter?" Sawbones grinned over at his other batchmate brother and saw him laugh, realizing where Saw was going with this. Kix gave Quarter a withering look, his face moving into a very resigned expression, knowing what was coming.

A small crowd had grown around their little group; somehow people always *knew* when tea was about to be spilled and gravitated toward it. The group had expanded to Scope, a medic serving under Commander Bly and General Secura, Friendly, an outgoing medic that typically patrolled Hutt Space with his battalion, Chance, a very young, red headed clone still working out of Kamino, Siren, Patcher, Patch, Voodoo, and Sentinel, the CMO of the 117th Recon Battalion. All were standing around, eagerly awaiting the gory details of the story about the infamous Kix of Torrent Company as a cadet.

"So, when Kix, Quarter and I were all baby medics back on Kamino, they had us go up on a training mission in one of the newer LA ATs that had some medical revisions. The two old training medics with us - they were like gods, you know? Full of knowledge and experience, untouchable by us shinies." Saw's eyes took on a slightly faraway look as he remembered back to the day in question. "Anyway, so these two clones, Duran and Morrow, take us up and were explaining the different switches and buttons on that particular ship, while we all sat around staring at them like dreamy kids. And I guess Kix looked particularly ripe for this little prank, because they focused on him."

Sawbones laughed ruefully, the memories making it difficult to get it out without giggling maniacally. "They were all, 'So this button is the suction button. When you push that button, it makes the LAAT go up, because this scoop on the bottom drops down, and changes the ship's altitude. Got it?' And Kix man, he was so wide eyed, like some young quivrey, staring back at them like they wore halos and light shone out of their ass.” The men in the group were starting to smile, a few low chuckles breaking out, envisioning the look on Kix's face as he bought this bantha shit story from the salty old medics. All of the men had been there in some way too; they were no strangers to hazing. Kix looked on with a sour expression on his face, though he was starting to smile against his will.

"Duran then goes on to tell Kix and the rest of us, 'So, if you hit the button again to turn off the suction, the ship will drop, because the scoop closed and it's no longer pushing the ship up, got it?' And Kix nods like the good little shiny he was - Vod was completely sold on this karking story," Sawbones laughed gruffly.

“Morrow like, leaned back in his seat and said, 'Okay kid, hit the button *now*, test it out.' And Kix did what he was told. And damned if that LAAT didn’t climb, just like they'd said it would." Saw paused to take a sip of his drink, while everyone shot some looks at Kix, half suspecting what was coming next.

"They had all of us at that point - we'd bought it hook, line and sinker," Quarter interjected with a low chuckle. "Gullible little babies that we were." The group all grinned and giggled, starting to realized what was about to happen.

Whiskey picked the story back up, "So then Duran tells Kix, ' Okay kid, hit the button to turn it off *now*.' Kix is all do do doooo (as Sawbones mimicked a silly kid ambling along cluelessly), hits the button, and then proceeds to scream like a girl as the ship bottomed out, dropping - I kriff you not - at least 500 feet in a second. We were all basically floating in air, zero gravity for a minute, watching our very short lives pass before our eyes, as Duran and Morrow laughed like two gargoyles at the group of shinies pissing themselves in front of them." Sawbones had forced the last sentence out through a stream of gurgling, wheezing laughs, while the rest of the group chuckled and gave Kix patronizing yet sympathetic looks.

"You know, those two karking a-holes never apologized for scaring a few years off our lives. I legitimately thought we were going to die," Kix snarled out, the embarrassing post, near-death experience still stinging. He looked back on it with humor, though he couldn't admit that to the group at hand. Kix saw Volte take a sip of his drink to hide a gleeful smirk, while Quarter chuckled at the memory. Kix gave his batch mate a hard look and sputtered, “Quarter, you've got no room to laugh - you screamed just as loud as I did and I know you had a short run of V tach. I thought we were gonna have to hit you with the paddles!”

Quarter positively giggled. “I can't deny it, they got us good. Those two jokers were some of the best training officers on Kamino. Force knows how they got away with even half of the stuff they did." Quarter shook his head in memory of the unparalleled shenanigans Duran and Morrow were famous for.

"Volte what about you? Got any good stories to tell from serving with the Dragon General?," Voodoo asked. "I heard Echo's first time up with her on that thing, it dove for a vulture droid and he screamed like a child over the open comm channels.” The group started laughing at the mental image of one of the more famous ARC Troopers embarrassing himself in such a way.

Volte chewed on some ice for a minute out of his glass, pondering the question. There were so many stories from Dragon Company, actually, most of which never saw the light of day. General Lin was rather infamous for tomfoolery herself, let alone the stuff she condoned within the ranks. "I wasn't there when that happened - that story was from the Battle of Teth and we weren't a Company yet. But she took Captain Primer up one day with her on that beast of hers, and when they got back he was holding onto her waist with his eyes screwed shut so tight we had to pry him off of her." The group all tittered with chuckles at that; Primer was known to be a brave, completely competent clone commander. They all struggled to imagine him afraid of anything, thought they all thought to a man they'd probably have taken any excuse to get their arms around General Lin if given the chance.

Quarter muttered softly into his glass, "You sure he was holding onto her purely out of fear?" He took a quick sip and then looked at Volte more squarely. "I've heard through the grapevine that he follows her for more reasons than just orders..." He saw Kix grin and gave his vod a wink, while Volte cleared his throat a little loudly and very obviously took a swig of his drink, shooting a quelling look at Quarter.

A new clone had joined the group about midway through the story, named Cheese. He was from the Mist Squad, under the 767 Recon Division, and the man loved anything related to gossip. Photography was a hobby of his, and he like to take group photos of his brothers when the opportunity struck. His eyes were sharp as he listened to the tea pertaining to the infamous General Lin. He suddenly pulled a data pad off his belt and held it up to snap a picture of the group, quickly blurting out "Say Cheese!," as he hit the photo button. The others stared back at him a little blandly; tolerating Cheese's habit was something most were used to by now. He'd already made the rounds through most of the clones getting proof of life many times over. They would soon realize the benefits of having allowed the somewhat socially awkward medic to record the conference in photos; the men would have many images of their brothers enjoying lighthearted moments, camaraderie and fun to look back on. Some of the men he captured in the holographic images on his data pad would not be there the next time the conference came about, and while all knew this, it was an unspoken, dark truth that moved beneath the surface like a cold current of air.

The party rolled on as more clones stuffed themselves into the bar, and Kix's night was made when Madi the young pediatrics lecturer popped up at the bar next to him, a little mischievous smirk on her cute face, one eyebrow arched as she watched Kix's face for a reaction. Volte did a double take at seeing her there, then laughed when he saw Kix's eyes nearly fall out of his head realizing she was there in person, waiting for him to speak to her. Volte looked over at Sawbones and Whiskey and sighed. "Guess I'll be crashing in your room tonight, boys."

A perky, bright voice answered him back from the other side of Kix. "Oh no! I wanted to get to know both of you."

Volte choked on his drink, his eyes going wide as he looked back at the girl in shock. She smiled back impishly.

Sawbones, Whiskey and Quarter all traded glances around, and Sawbones muttered, "We can leave the door unlocked in case you need the two of us to come rescue you at ANY point, Vod." He elbowed Volte and gave him a salacious wink, grumbling "Lucky bastards," as he sipped his drink, watching the trio head off out of the bar. Volte looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide like a prisoner stumbling off to the gallows, unsure of just what he'd suddenly been roped into, but unable to stop his feet from following the sprightly, cute girl leading him by the hand with a cheshire cat grin on her face, as Kix walked beside like a king ascending to his throne.

Credits:

Kix - CT 6116 Medic of Torrent Company, 501st Legion

Volte - CT 2403 Dragon Company CMO, property of CloneMedicKix

Sawbones - CT 2697 Wolfpack CMO, 104th Battalion, property of Wizardofrozz

Quarter - ARC 2525 Republic Intelligence medic, property of Hetalianskywalker

Whiskey - CC 6891 CMO 104th Battalion, property of Banks's-rat

Voodoo - CT 0127 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sev-on-Kamino

Cheese - CT 2437, Medic of Mist Squad, 767 Recon Division, property of Homemade-clones

Friendly - Medic of 387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Chance - CT 5243 Medic of Phoenix Squad, property of The-Bad-Batch-Baroness

Patch - Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sunshinedaydream

Patcher - CT 1110 Coruscant Guard CMO, property of Stargazingbunny

Siren - CT 6161 Coruscant Guard medic, property of 523rdrebel

Sentinel - CT 26-0207, CMO of 117th Recon Battalion, property of Liluthenerd

Scope - CT 4466 Medic of 327th Battalion, property of Mythical Illustrator

Stretcher - CT 3880, Medic of 327th Star Corps, property of A-single-tulip

Heron - Medic of 218th Company, property of King-chaos-world

Jab - Junior medic of Phoenix Company, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Captain Jaro - CT 1926, CMO of 16th Medical Battalion, property of Sweetmugofcocoa

Minder - CT 6334-2 Jedi Medical Company, property of Mythical Illustrator

Carpal - CC 6666 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Mythical Illustrator

Taglist!

@mythical-illustrator @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @moonlightwarriorqueen @523rdrebel @king-chaos-world @starrrgazingbunny @the-bad-batch-baroness @swarovski-yoda @homemade-clones @hetalianskywalker @a-single-tulip @banksys-rat @sev-on-kamino @vodika-vibes @sunshinesdaydream @liluthenerd @sweetmugofcocoa @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @villanousace @theogfulcrum22 @starrylothcat @anxiouspineapple99 @mire-draws-things @cloneloverrrrr @mandos-mind-trick @padawancat97 @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @isthereanechoinhere96 @jediknightjana @wackylurker @starqueensthings @dickarchivist @amorfista @marierg

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