Of Slaves And Psychos (lmr)

[Space Core]

The kaleesh had recoiled at the touch, fearing being struck due to his insolence. He'd expected a blow, and he would have taken it without even attempting to avoid it. His honour demanded that he do. But the touch had been gentle, the gentlest contact with another sentient being he'd experienced in a long time. He looked up at her as she spoke.

"I'll take good care of you," she said. He could see the sincerity in her eyes. But that meant little. It was in her personal interest to take good care of him. He was a minion of hers now. He'd sealed a pact with the devil, a pact for power. The Sith in him was glad at the turn f events, the Warlord was merely satisfied that the bargain had been carried out honourably. He pushed himself up, once again gritting his teeth at the pain.

The togruta asked for the Arkanian to see that he was taken good care of. He was thankful for the gesture, but he also felt like he'd been thrown out of the proverbial frying pan and into the fire.

"A man is honoured to have met two Masters in such a short amount of time," Novux said raggedly, giving the Arkanian a stiff and painful bow.

Inside his mind the Initiate had spent all his anger and was now approachable. It had strained the Warlord to keep the Initiate in check during the exchange, and the Initiate took over their body at that time, taking advantage of his counterpart's momentary weakness.

"I have forgotten to introduce myself, and for that I am sorry. I am Novux, an initiate," he told the Arkanian, maintaining his bow.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Sobi nodded as she produced a medical scanner and started examining the injuries. The Arkanian woman was perfectly able to set aside bias and treat an inferior race, though her knowledge of his anatomy was limited.

"Doctor Sobi Q'asdan, or Professor if you prefer," The Arkanian woman said as she mentally cataloged each injury.

She announced each out loud.

"Burns on your wrists and ankles, sprains in your left knee and right elbow, a broken wrist, and what looks like severe stress on your muscles."

The snowy-haired woman shook her head disapprovingly and smiled thinly to the vermin.

"You really need to take better care of yourself initiate. I can prescribe remedies to take the pain away, but you need at least two weeks of minimal activity to properly heal. I can also provide you with crutches, assuming you don't have some amount of pride like every Initiate and his brother."

[Space Core]

The kaleesh gave another stiff half bow as she gave him her name. She seemed civil and pleasant enough. Then again so had Naraka, and that veneer had lasted only as long as she needed it to. That was something he'd have to remember. Never to trust first impressions, better yet, never to trust at all. He'd probably have to re-examine the day's events later. After a good rest, and when the pain was gone.

"A man agrees," he said when she told him he should take better care of himself. "Though hopefully the sort of training which led to such damage will not become routine," he really hoped it wouldn't. He wasn't fond of pain, especially not when it was self-inflicted. Only idiots damaged themselves. Or those not in control of their own body.

"This one thought medicine was a simple case of pressing a button in our time,," he replied, only half-joking. He had very little knowledge of technology. He had only understood how his lightsaber worked after reading about the weapon extensively.

"You really need to take better care of yourself initiate. I can prescribe remedies to take the pain away, but you need at least two weeks of minimal activity to properly heal. I can also provide you with crutches, assuming you don't have some amount of pride like every Initiate and his brother," her words rang true. All Initiates he'd met were prideful. Blinded by it and led to some rather foolish decision. He was prideful, but he'd learned to ignore that pride when it was necessary.

"A crutch would be useful," he admitted. "A man would appreciate somethign more stylish. Perhaps a cone, with a hidden compartment for a lightsaber. Or a lightsaber integrated within the cane. Or maybe something with inlaid flames, to make me look faster than I really am" he was joking obviously, but more for his own benefit than for the Professor's.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

"No," Sobi said with a thin smile. "I'm afraid that I'm away from a properly equipped medical facility. Our Sith Order doesn't place much stock in healing, and prefers to be on the other end of damage. While from a scientific point of view I find that principle to be an interesting exercise of survival of the fittest, I am still a medical doctor."

Admittedly she was a medical doctor who had engaged in illegal research that resulted in the deaths of hundreds of test subjects. And she felt no more remorse over them than she would have for stepping on an insect.

"As to your crutch, I will get one for you after I finish treating your wounds properly. Now please hold still."

Slowly and methodically, Doctor Q'asdan treated every single injury, wrapping the ankle in bandages that would chill the affected area, doing something similar for the arm, and applying an ointment to the burns. Only when she was completely finished did she return from the back room with a pair of crutches.

"Archaic, but effective. I highly recommend you use both so you stay off of your ankle as much as possible."

[Space Core]

Novux tried to remain as still as he could during the procedure, but even the lightest touch was painful. He had to bite the inside of his mouth a few times to stop any sounds escaping form his throat. Not showing weakness wasn't a matter of pride among the Sith for the kaleesh, it was a matter of survival. As helpful as the doctor seemed, she was still a Sith.

He'd have to lay low while his injuries healed, or run the risk of being preyed on by fellow initiates. Some time alone would be good for him too. His mind was now inhabited by two different entities. Him and the one that called himself the Warlord. He'd have to take the time to sort things out before he could really throw himself into training. Perhaps these injuries were a blessing disguised as a curse.

"A man thanks the doctor," he said, inclining his head as a sign of gratitude. He took the crutches, and tested his stance, trying a few hopping steps to make sure he wouldn't mess up. If he was going to have to hobble back to his room at least he wanted to look somewhat dignified when he did.

"A man will try to follow the doctor's recommendations. he thanks her for her help. Farewell," and with a last bow he skipped off. This doctor was an interesting one. A Sith that fixed people. Certainly not the most obvious combination of skills. But he was a testament to the fact that she didn't violently murder her patients. At least not all her patients.