64 Ryloth 3

"Comfy?" I asked the prone trooper.

Shifting slightly, Jet replied "Comfy as can be."

"You'll get used to it." I paused, fiddling with the control pad, one definitely made for smaller fingers, "After a few nights out with me, you'll come to appreciate them."

With his helmet off, I could see the same lined based tattoos he had on his hands running down his neck. It was a sort of reversed version of my own; where instead of the lines being tattooed, everything else was, leaving contrasting lines of pale skin on the otherwise black canvas.

Now settled and ready for scanning, Jet asked, "Were you serious about that?" Still unbelieving of the truths I spout.

O' thee of little faith.

"What? About getting tanked after we're done cleaning up Ryloth? Fuck yeah mate." I responded, finally hitting the right sequence of buttons to get the machine going.

"Wouldn't that, you know. Be impossible." Patient zero spoke, unsure of his own words, "Won't we just be called somewhere else after Ryloth?".

Sighing, I snuck a hand into my robes, pulling out a flask and necking a swig of its poisonous contents. The action was filled with such polished precision you could call it mastery.

Sighing again, with content this time around, I started to educate my subordinate, "Listen, here's how this is going to go. Me, you, and the rest of the 69th are gonna go to Ryloth, desecrate the separatist resistance, and liberate the planet."

The clone watched me intently, taken by the unbridled confidence I exuded while speaking.

"Then we'll have a massive party. I'm talking about a planet spannin', beat blastin', babe bangin', beer tannin' fun fest with the Twi's. We'll buy so much fucking booze the planets economy will finally recover enough to not rely on slave exporation to stay afloat."

I could see it already, the sheer scale of the sesh will have Obi-wan frothing at the mouth from the amount of Republic funds pumped into it.

All in the name of a good tim- humanitarian aid.

Or is it alienatarian? Speciatarian?

Fuck if I know.

"So quit your fuckin' pussy talk and let me scan you. Can't have my boys being sick and croaking before that, can I?" I stated, finalising my speech with the press of a key started the scanning.

I could sense that Jet had much to say on the matter, but obediently followed orders and lay completely still a linear line of sky blue lasers scanned up and down his face.

…

..

.

Fuck sake man, this is taking ages.

"Anything General?"

Hunched over, I stared at the screen, "...Nothing yet, don't think the droids are working. Give it a bit longer."

Fucking shitey med-droid. Why's it coming up blank?

Am I really in a different Star Wars universe? Are the clones not chipped? Is Palpatine not an evil mastermind?

Agitated, I spat, "Fucking piece a shite!" Thumping my fist across the console that refused to find anything abnormal.

I was about to give the inanimate object another walloping when, lo and behold, a flashing red dot spontaneously appeared on screen.

Of course a bit of well directed anger does the job.

Clicking on the anomaly, the screen flickered to a close up of the weird, fatty amalgamation of bioengineering. It sort of looked like a bit of muscle tissue, yet upon close inspection was way out of place being so close to the brain.

The beeping alerted Jet to the problem, tilting his head slightly he questioned, "What's wrong? Am I infected?"

Shaking my head, I answered, "Nope, you're all good on that front. The scanners picked up a foreign mass near the brain."

Now worried Jet added, "Is it a tumour?"

Replying quickly to put a swift half to his worrying, "Relax mate, not a tumour. Nothing dangerous like that, probably better out than in though."

At least not to him.

"I can have it taken out right now if that's cool with you. Would only take five minutes tops." I told jet, the surgery machines were stationed behind the bed incase of an urgent operation.

Rubbing his head, Jet nodded and was slid inside the cylindrical mass of metal. I saw a needle getting jabbed into the area around the chip - anaesthesia most likely -  before several other robotic arms poked and prodded away at his head.

The full thing never even took five minutes. The operation was over before I could finish my fag; which by all accounts is ridiculously fast.

Jet moved to a sitting position, gently prodding at the gauze on the side of his head, "Is that it finished?" He asked.

Taking a final draw of my cig before snuffing it out, I gave him a thumbs up, "That's you mate. We won't arrive at Ryloth for another couple of hours, so you can go chill with the boys if you want."

"What about the thing that was cut out of my head?" Jet wondered, standing up off the bed and shaking his stiff legs.

Tilting my head at the machine, I said, "It's just being processed, you know what these droids are like. Always trying to micromanage everything."

Rolling his shoulders Jet made a move to leave, maybe to go talk to his squad about the massive after party I was planning. Before he could exit the bay, I stopped him.

"Here." Hovering my hand a few inches above the incision, I channelled the force into the scabbing tissue. Using a slither of my voracious, magik powered vitality as the fuel, the cut started to rapidly heal.

Ripping off the surgical dressing which elicited a jolt of pain from Jet, I told him, "There we go, can't have you walking around looking like that before the fighting's even started."

"Thanks General." Jet saluted with appreciation.

With that, Jet left. Leaving me alone, and giving me the opportunity to store the inhibitor chip for safekeeping.

A minute or so passed since Jet's departure and the chip was stuffed into a sealed glass container. Giving it a quick one over to check if any abnormalities had come about since its removal, I moved it and myself over to one of the spare beds before pulling out my holodisc and attempting to contact Aayla.