Casualties of War: Empathy

RC-1139, Cabur, shifted through the rubble of what had been Depot Bravo Five. It had been the site of a terrorist bombing, and Cabur, his squadmates and a handful of other commando squads had been sent in to look for survivors and to confirm that there were no other explosives. Close by, Cabur could see a commando in purple-streaked armour, RC-3412, Dain, of Canderous Squad, doing the same. Dain was one of Sergeant Isabet Reau’s commandos, and they were a notoriously psychotic bunch, even giving the Nulls a run for their money. Dain, however, was different; he was surprisingly soft-spoken and polite. Cabur wondered how someone like that had come from one of Reau’s squads, especially considering that the rest of Dain’s squad-Hazen, Cypher and Terra-were little more than thugs, violent and without empathy. Captain Ordo was there, too, although he seemed fairly indifferent to all of the death and destruction, and was instead inspecting the area.

“Any luck so far?” Dain called out to Cabur, as he struggled to lift a particularly large chunk of duracrete.

“No, not so far…” Cabur replied, cursing himself for feeling so useless.

So far, they had only found the dead. Six civilians and eight clone troopers. The clone troopers had at least come out of the explosion looking relatively unbattered; their armour had protected their bodies, leaving relatively intact corpses. The civilians, however, had been utterly pulverised, either by the explosion or by flying debris. It was a grisly sight, and as hardened as he was to violence, Cabur felt sick. These people had not deserved their fate.

Cabur struck his armour-plated leg with a fist, a frustration-born habit that he had picked up from his training sergeant, Ambu Kelborn. Shaking off his feelings, Cabur returned to his search, hoping that there were survivors to be recovered, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. He activated his shoulder-mounted thermal scanner and swept it over the wreckage, hoping to pick up any signs of life.

Suddenly, Cabur detected a life-sign. It was faint, but it was there. He frantically began digging under the wreckage, throwing pieces of debris away haphazardly.

“Dain! Dain, I’ve found someone! He’s alive!” Cabur shouted, waving his arms to attract attention, Dain quickly rushed over to help, hastily throwing aside the slab of debris.

Lying pinned under the wreckage was a human male, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He was covered in dust and he was badly injured; blood was pouring freely down his forehead. His uniform had been damaged by the explosion, but Cabur could see that he was a private.

“Help me…please help me…” The man pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. Tremblingly, he slowly held his arm out to Cabur.

“What’s your name?”

“R-Rall Xalrich…” He struggled to speak, he was clearly in a lot of pain, and he was afraid.

Cabur looked around, hoping to see someone coming to help. Dain, now standing by Cabur’s side, was peering at him curiously, but he was the only one, the other commandos and rescue teams were looking for other survivors and clearing out the area. Slowly, Cabur reached up and took his helmet off, revealing his shaved head and stubbly jaw. Then, just as cautiously, he took Rall’s hand in his own.

“Mine’s Cabur, it means ‘Guardian’. I’m a medic; I’m going to help.”

Rall looked faintly hopeful. Cabur reached for his bacta injector and prepared to attend to Rall. Cabur struggled to keep his hands steady; he knew that it would make no difference. Rall was too badly injured; he would die soon. Perhaps if he had been found earlier…

Cabur swallowed, the least he could do was make Rall’s last moments as comfortable as possible. He did not need to know that he was dying. There was no point in letting his last moments be filled with terror.

A voice from behind Cabur spoke up “Medic, you’re needed elsewhere; we’ve recovered an injured clone trooper.”

Cabur turned and saw an ARC captain standing over them. Ordo, Cabur thought, struggling not to scowl. He quickly put his helmet back on to hide his expression.

Cabur looked over and saw the man to whom Ordo was referring to. The armour around his torso had been removed, revealing the bodysuit underneath. It was torn and ragged, and Cabur could see that there was blood flowing freely down his side. Beside him, however, was a medic, who was helping the trooper to apply pressure to the wound. It looked bad, Cabur admitted, but it looked like the trooper would survive, the injury was not critical, and he was being attended to already. Which was more than he could say for Rall.

“He’ll live,” Cabur said curtly, turning his attention back to Rall “But this man won’t. Just give me a few minutes with him, I need to stay with him until he dies. I won’t let him do it alone.”
Ordo sighed and stepped closer, one hand held out, as if preparing to grab Cabur “You’re right, he is going to die; so there’s no point in wasting precious time. Your vode, the ones who actually stand a chance, they need you now.”

Cabur struggled not to whirl around and punch Ordo for his callousness. Rall might not be one of his brothers, but he did not deserve to die here, scared and in pain.

Dain took a step towards the pair “Captain, perhaps-”

Ordo held out a hand to silence Dain, and he went immediately mute.

“I won’t ask again, medic.”

Cabur twisted around to face Ordo “If this man is going to die, then he will not do so in fear and alone. I’m going to stay with him, Captain, until he passes on. I don’t care what your orders are.” His voice was low, his tone adamant. And really, why should he follow Ordo’s orders? Ordo so rarely followed General Zey’s, or anyone other than Skirata’s for that matter. Cabur scowled, speculating that Ordo had learned his callous behaviour from Skirata. He always fretted over clone casualties, but whenever a Jedi, civilian or non-clone officer was reported dead, Skirata never seemed to care less. Cabur found it disgusting, whether a person was born or cloned, they were still people, and their deaths were always tragic and worth mourning. These men and women had family and friends, it was not right to dismiss their lives as meaningless.

Ordo stiffened, and Cabur wondered if the Null was glowering at him from beneath his helmet, or remaining stoic. Then, before Cabur could go back to Rall, Ordo’s hand shot out and grabbed Cabur’s arm firmly. Ordo roughly pulled Cabur up and began to drag him away, towards the injured trooper.

“Let go!” Cabur snarled, twisting frantically in Ordo’s grip.

“Captain!” Dain exclaimed in shock, rushing forward to assist Cabur.

“Stand down, private!” Ordo ordered, his patience since used up. Dain froze, as if he had been stunned, before backing off.

“Rall can’t be alone!” Cabur brought his free fist down onto Ordo’s arm, but if he felt any pain, he did not show it.

“Listen to me! He is going to die, you di’kut! He is going to die and you can’t save him! You are done wasting time with that aruetii!” Ordo snapped.

Behind them, Rall let out a pitiful cry.  Ordo and Cabur froze. Ordo had said that out loud. He winced, evidently, he had not meant to. The damage had been done though, and Rall was whimpering softly. Cabur wrenched his arm free, slugged Ordo with enough force to stagger him and hurried back to Rall’s side.

“Sssh, it’s okay, Rall, I’m here,” Cabur said softly, trying to be comforting. He took his helmet off again and gripped Rall’s hand in his own.

“Don’t leave me…please, don’t…” Rall sobbed faintly.

Cabur was dimly aware that his sergeant, Jawbreaker, and Ordo were screaming at each other, but he paid them no mind. Rall was the sole focus of his attention. Even when Rall’s hand went limp and his breathing stopped, Cabur paid the others no heed. Not even when Dain came over and gingerly placed a hand on Cabur’s shoulder. He sighed, closed his eyes and hung his head.