#pathogen venator

[anon-is-a-simp]

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 30: Coma

Summary: The Republic loses Umbara, and the 501st nearly lose Tup. Somehow, both of these things make a world of change even if at the moment all hope seems lost.

Warning: N/A

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch and Tacet belong to @lost-on-kamino Sol and Constelación belong to @milfcutlawquane

Here's what Tup and Dogma currently look like!

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

The next few hours were a complete blur.

Between General Kenobi going through all of the infected troopers once more to make sure the parasites remained dormant, followed by him then absconding off to initiate negotiations with the Umbaran Generals, and finally the 501st medical squad messaging them with coordinates that would lead to the medical facility, there hadn't really been much time to stop and think.

And honestly, that was more of a blessing than a curse.

Because if Canivete were given the opportunity to sit down and really ponder on what she'd been told. Ponder on just what exactly Tacet had found out while investigating the comms issues. Then she might just break down crying.

And that wouldn't be helpful to anyone, now would it?

To think she'd lost a batcher to outright malice, rather than the 'unfortunate accident' it had been listed as. It broke her heart. Her little baby brother who hadn't even picked a name...

The thought haunted her more than the nights of shore leave where she'd spend her time sitting in front of a sealed door in the Jedi Temple. Listening to Abby's body breaking and changing into forms unsightly. Speaking to them in the hopes something of her youngest sibling could still understand her. Could still feel the love their ori'vod had for them...

Haunted her even more than when Peel would wake up in a cold sweat and run away from the barracks. Pacing down the halls like a caged animal searching for a way to break out of its prison. Digging his nails into his bare arms, and turning suddenly as he listened to the flow of energy that was muted to her and the rest of the vode, but not to him. Listening to it, because otherwise he'd be lost in thoughts that tormented him because of something well beyond his control.

But there was still hope for Abstract and Peel.

Sometimes Abby would respond to her words. Whisper back short words that sounded off but that were full of affection.

Sometimes Peel would tell her about his nightmares. Whisper his insecurities and fears and take comfort in knowing he at least had her to confide in.

The second eldest, the nameless brother who only had his number, had no hope left at all. His body undoubtedly lost in space within a Venator that had been taken over by Seppie Droids. Never to be reclaimed. Canivete would never be able to properly mourn him.

All because of Pong karking Krell...

"Cani..." She startled, looking up from where she'd been scrubbing her skin raw. Having spaced out when she'd been kitting up for surgery and gone to wash her hands.

Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Sponge who was certainly worse for wear but still a sight for sore eyes. The other medic's face covered in bacta patches, and the medical scrubs looked puffed out where thick bandaging had been wrapped around their torso, arms and legs.

Despite the injuries they'd suffered, they were back on their feet preparing themselves to perform surgery after surgery to remove the parasites from all of the infected vode.

Currently however, they were staring intently at her.

"I'm finished. Just..." She shook her head, trying to ignore what was eating away at her. Choke down the grief. "Just need to put on some gloves and then I'll be good to go..."

"You don't have to do this. There are 10 other medics available right now, myself included." Sponge offered, motioning to themselves and then shrugging. "The truce is in full effect and the supply ships have touched down. We have everything we need..."

"I want to help." Cani shook her head again. "I... I have to help."

"No you don't. Not really..." Sponge sighed, one hand still very much behind their back while the other rested on their hip. "I can tell you're hurting."

"No, you don't understand." Cani insisted. "I have to help. Otherwise I'll... I'll..."

"Believe me, I do understand..." Sponge looked away. That familiar glint of sorrow reflected back at her, in just the way their eyes looked shiny and wet. They too were often put down by one loss they'd never recovered from.

She'd made the mistake of hurting them once, she wouldn't do it again. Not when she valued their trust.

"....I know you do. I just... I can't think about it now." Canivete sighed sadly. What a life they both lived. The tragedy of the medics. "The vode need me. Need us."

"They do..." Sponge conceded, moving over to offer her a pair of clean gloves that they'd been hiding behind their back. "Promise me once this is done, that you'll board the next ship out of here."

"....I promise."

And she did. After the vode were free, she'd finally retire back to the Negotiator and let herself break open in the company of her friends. Right now, however, she had a job to do and she intended to be diligent about it. The more medics they had in service, the faster they'd get through every trooper.

-

The Resolute was silent once it departed from Umbaran space. Not a soul made a single sound, aside from the usual announcement that they were making the jump to hyperspace. In the end there simply wasn't much to say. Not now at least. So the quiet had settled like a soothing blanket over a sleeping babe.

Not the calm before the storm, rather, the calm after it had passed.

Aside from the noiselessness, one other thing was evidently different than usual: There were a few troopers of the 212th present among the 501st rank. Something which Obi-wan had allowed, as a means to comfort those who had been irreversibly affected by the parasitic infection they'd suffered.

Not everyone who had joined had batchers in the 501st, but they certainly felt the camaraderie between both battalions and simply wanted to offer a shoulder to cry on. Others who did indeed have batchers, even if they had not been infected, sought to stick to their vode's side. Both celebrating their survival, and taking the time to appreciate that which they had taken for granted not too long ago.

It was not just Obi-wan and Anakin who needed to have an important talk about their bonds, after all.

Pitch watched quietly from the safety of his (excessively) padded out bunk, Tacet snoozing lightly by his side while their limbs were a slight tangle. Datapad (hosting a delightfully silly cartoon holofilm, about a tiny fish who becomes a nautolan girl to live with a young twi'lek boy who rescued her from a bottle) all but forgotten among the sheets while Pitch raked his fingers over his sibling's scalp.

Vodepiles were wonderful things really. Only a tiny quarter of all of the clone population was averse to them (and often it was because they were uncomfortable being touched due to very specific circumstances that were better left unmentioned). But sometimes what he really craved was to cuddle up with a single vod. Just like he and his batchers had sometimes done on Kamino, after one of them had a particularly bad day during training.

Back then piling up openly would have been far too dangerous, so they had taken turns. Covered for one another. It was as nostalgic as it was reassuring. A safety blanket of sorts.

In other bunks, different troopers had both similar setups or differing configurations they'd decided upon. It wasn't a proper gigantic pile like it was common to see after a battalion that had gone through a particularly grueling campaign, but it was a familiar sight all the same.

Lich and PB, for example, had curled up together in the former's bunk while practically cocooned in a blanket. Not quite asleep but also not fully awake. The longer haired trooper counting the odd number of scales dotted all around his older brother's face, while the other got used to the idea of cuddling his sibling with an extra set of limbs to call his own. Both looked very content.

A few feet away, Sponge and Coric were full on snoring on a mattress that had been haphazardly placed on the floor. Beau lay between them, her tail wagging away as Twitch (who was sitting besides the mattress, on a cushion someone had stolen from the officer's lounge) gently pet her. The younger medic had a look of pure wonder on his face, as the barghest responded to his affection with a gentle lick or two. He'd been more than a little enthused to meet Sponge's animal companion once he'd finally learned about her existence.

In his own top bunk, Kix sat with both of his batchmates while carefully changing Hardcase's bandages. Listening to Jesse sleepily mumbling away the things that had transpired while they'd been separated. The more hyperactive of the trio was holding a datapad that had some kind of comedy series playing on it, to keep him distracted long enough for the medic to be done with him.

In a more secluded corner of the room, Canivete had fallen asleep with Peel clinging to her back while her head rested on Sol's lap. The latter carefully brushing away the tear tracks that the grieving medic had left while whispering softly to his sister, Constelación. Both had managed to escape Umbara unscathed. By the skin of their teeth, the sunny dispositioned lieutenant had proclaimed.

Caramba and Azulejo were both sitting with them, making plans on what sort of cosmetic changes they could help the transformed vode make, to help them feel a little more like themselves. A new haircut here, a dye job there, some tattoos and piercings as well... They took in whatever feedback Sol and Constelación had to offer, since they themselves had experience with adding visually stunning aesthetics to make visible mutations seem like less of a big deal.

All around, wherever Pitch's eyes could see, vode were just being themselves. For once completely at peace.

In truth, this was the only sort of domesticity allowed to the clones. Sharing in the few quiet moments that they were spared while resting. It was never really enough time, but it was just about enough to relish in the presence and companionship of their siblings.

Relishing in the only constant of their tragically short lives.

A very bittersweet and rather finite moment, considering the circumstances of their mere existence. The purpose of their being. But one Pitch chose to enjoy all the same.

Something big would come out of this, out of abandoning Umbara to the whims of whomever might take it. But for now, the blue-haired medic really couldn't care. He had enough on his plate. So he chose to close his eyes instead, and let himself sink into blissful unconsciousness.

-

Trusting Fives to keep an eye on the twins, Rex carefully got out of his seat and up onto sore feet. He gave the room a brief once-over, grateful for the great number of empty medical cots in spite of all of the horrific things that had transpired during the campaign.

Quietly, with feather light toes, the Captain left the medbay.

There were duties he could not leave unattended for much longer. Reports that had to be made of what happened planet-side, casualties to be listed, spare supplies to be counted, and many other logistics nightmares that, in all honesty, he was dragging his feet over.

As he walked along the silent halls, Rex doubted his presence was all that comforting to the ARC trooper or to Dogma. In fact he doubted they'd notice him leaving at all, since the two were far too busy keeping vigil over Tup's bedside. Something which he couldn't blame them for.

The procedure had worked flawlessly on Dogma, Cody and every other infected trooper. Each parasite perishing and carefully extracted from where they'd connected themselves to the spinal chord of their hosts. The effects of the removal immediately noticeable to those who stood by them as they woke up.

Unfortunately the same could not be said for patient zero. Where everyone else had woken up after surgery, Tup had not. A coma. The rookie had fallen into a coma. His body having simply taken too big of a hit to bounce back as easily as everyone else had.

That sadly meant the poor kih'vod would need a much longer time to recover completely. And, as foolish as it was to give false hope, the medics didn't have the heart to tell Dogma that his twin might never actually wake up.

Not that Rex blamed them. The kid had already suffered enough...

Now that he was all on his own, alone with his thoughts, Rex knew for sure that Umbara had undoubtedly killed something in him. Granted he wasn't exactly sure what, but he certainly didn't feel like he was the same man that had first landed on that gods forsaken planet.

He couldn't be, when things had gone so disastrously wrong and he'd done so little to actually keep everyone safe. And that had left him pretty shaken up, especially when he'd gotten some rather distressing insight into just what exactly they'd been dealing with.

He should have guessed, really. The signs were there. But you know what they say about hindsight in the end...

That said, the one thing he knew for sure was that he was tired. Very very tired. But, as mentioned before, there was work to do and Rex was not one to shirk his duties. Even if all he wanted to do was curl up in his cot and press his face into a pillow until his eyes stopped burning, and his heart stop trying to beating its way out of his painfully tight chest.

He'd failed as a Captain and as a brother. And that was not something he could forgive himself for. Not something that should be easily forgiven at all.

Usually, when he was feeling like this, Rex would turn to Cody for guidance and support. Would ask his wise ori'vod what to do. But Cody had a lot to deal with himself, especially considering he was likely to suffer greatly thanks to the mutations he'd undergone.

Be scrutinized by the natborn officers of the GAR, and seen as even lesser than a clone, because of what the parasite had done to his body. Twisted and transformed into a form many would consider monstrous or even disgusting (it hadn't escaped anyone's notice how some of the vode and natborn personnel on board had flinched away from the infected on first glance).

It wouldn't be fair for Rex to pile his own issues onto his brother who'd suffered even more than he, without ever compromising his moral integrity. But he needed to talk to someone... Anyone...

Locking the door to his quarters and taking hold of his personal datapad, Rex stared at his contacts as he felt the sadness, rage and anxiety begin to set in in full.

Should he talk to Bly who had always been the best when it came to dealing with your feelings? Should he go to Wolffe who understood the burning rage that came with surviving great injustices? Should he go to Gree who was often reserved but a good listener?

His finger hovered over the screen, momentarily still as he took deep shuddering breaths. His vision blurring as tears began to pool in his eyes. Making it hard for him to even discern the names of the commanders he'd looked up to all his childhood. Who'd taken him in when he'd began to fall behind.

Then, after clearing his vision a bit, he made his choice and pressed on one very particular name. The longest minute of his life passed, before the call was accepted.

"It's 03:00. Someone better be dead." The ruby red helmet that greeted him had been put on sloppily, since part of the wearer's chin was still very visible, but Rex recognized the tired glower that was most definitely hidden beneath it.

He'd either woken up his brother or caught him during a very late shift. That particular tone was one he was very familiar with after all.

"F-Fox..." He choked out, unable to contain the sobs anymore. He was so tired and felt so weak. Everything had been his fault and he didn't know how to fix it.

All at once, the Marshal Commander's demeanor changed. His body language softened, but his tone remained cold and straight to the point. Rex recognized the concern behind it all the same. Fox may seem frigid and distant, but he was nothing if not the most loving and caring of the commanders. Something which he hid to everyone's benefit but his own.

"What happened?"

Feeling safe, despite the fact he was coming apart at the seams, Rex began to recount the atrocities that the 501st and 212th had gone through. And from behind the screen, Fox silently seethed as he listened to his little brother cry and despair.

And with that last little domino set in motion on the grand Rube Goldberg machine, the chessboard toppled over. The pieces no longer attached to their strings.

[txwitchery]

Duck Potato / Wapato / Punta de Flecha

Sagittaria latifolia

This aquatic plant may often be found in shallow, muddy waters at the edges of ponds and rivers, and its common name references the fact that it grows from a delicious tuber whose taste is rather like a combination of a potato and a sweet chestnut. They may be cooked like a potato as well-- remove the bitter outer skin and boil them to remove any aquatic pathogens that cling to them (NOTE: whenever you harvest plants from water in the wild, they must be cleaned and boiled THOROUGHLY before consumption to avoid getting very sick from water-borne microbes!) for at least ten minutes. The young leaves, when still unfurled, may be cooked and eaten like spinach.

The Cherokee made an infusion of the leaves for feverish infants-- first, the baby would take a sip of the infusion, and then the rest would be used to bathe it. The Chippewa made a root infusion for indigestion, and the Ojibwa ate the tubers for the same reason. The Iroquois used a whole plant infusion for rheumatism, and gave the same to children who would wake up screaming in the night. The Algonquin used the root for tuberculosis (side note: TUBERculosis, get it?). A poultice of the root has been placed on wounds and sores, and a poultice of the leaves has been used on the breasts to curtail milk production. The Thompson used the plant as a love charm.

WARNING: this plant can look very similar to arrow arum (Peltandra virginica), which is VERY toxic and must not be consumed or placed on the body. You may tell them apart by the venation of the leaves, but always remember: if you are in doubt, LEAVE IT ALONE!

This plant has a long history of use in love magic. I associate it with the goddess Venus, the element Water, the Moon, and the astrological sign Scorpio. 

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 3: Separated from loved ones

Summary: Moments like these made him wish he wasn't such a goddamn freak.

Warning: N/A

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

To say there was an air of trepidation as they approached the shadowy planet of Umbara, was a complete overstatement. The atmosphere within the Negotiator was more than a little tense, to the point where an eerie silence seemed to permeate the air of the large Venator-Class Star Destroyer.

It was stiffing. Oppressive. But most of all, irritating.

Not that Peel was one to give in to irritation all that easily. Especially not since the fiasco that had been the mission to Bray. He'd had to learn to be more patient and cautious after that ordeal. And not without good reason...

Running his tongue over his unusually sharp canines, the vampiric trooper had to keep himself from sighing out loud as he noted the aftertaste of battery acid that stubbornly clung to his teeth enamel. Reminding him of things he really wished he could forget. Of his new nature as... This... Whatever this was.

Sure, Canivete had reassured him that his newly acquired habits and instincts weren't anything need fearing, since he'd figured out a pretty easy way to keep himself from succumbing to the urges that had been haunting him after he'd been "cured" of Lord Ravna's influence. But that didn't mean he had to like the way that the vile monster's taint had altered him.

Especially not when he had to preemptively feed himself as much charge as possible before every mission. It was doubtful he'd have a chance during their deployment on hostile planets, so he was often forced to stalk off and hide away in shame, as he sunk his teeth into every piece of machinery that Canivete had pilfered for him in silent solidarity. She was amazing like that. Never shying away from helping even the strangest of cases... Which he supposes came down to the fact she had a batcher who'd ended up in a much worse situation than Peel had.

That said, Canivete was a bit of a mother hen and tended to fuss a little too much when she thought he was neglecting his own needs. It wasn't like he wanted to stay awake late into the night, or that he didn't want to eat a nice tasty meal among their brethren... It's just that, sometimes, all the noise could be a little overwhelming.

Umbara would be overwhelming too... He just knew it. Especially after they'd gone through the rushed briefing. The lack of information they were working with put him and the rest of the vode ill at ease, which was what was causing so much tension all over the ship. What was making it so hard for him to shake off the pre-barricade-busting jitters.

Not even draining the mouse droid he'd managed to corner settled his frantically beating heart. He hoped the poor thing didn't hold it against him. The engineers would be able to easily fix it, but you never knew a droid's temperament until you crossed it.

"Peel." Startling at the sound of his own name, he turned around to see who'd called him. At the end of the hall he'd been pacing in, stood Cani in her medical fatigues. Her hair was down, which meant she'd just recently woken up and hadn't had the time to put it up yet in the way she liked.

Which itself meant she'd been looking for him since she'd woken up.

"Canivete." He greeted, flashing her a quick smile before subconsciously clamping his mouth shut so that his fangs didn't show too much. Even if she wasn't bothered by these bizarre attributes of his, he didn't particularly like showing his teeth to other vode. It made him feel weird. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." She made her way over to him and ran a hand over her face, trying to shake off the lingering sleepiness from her eyes. "The Negotiator will be breaching the planetary barricade soon. According to the Commander, a couple of squads of pilots from the 212th and 501st each, will be keeping the Umbarans busy while the Generals and the rest of the men engage planet-side via LAATs."

"What are we working with down there? I know we don't have much in the way of intel..." He couldn't wait to get down on solid ground and get some of the nervous energy out of his system. The sooner they landed, the faster they could take Umbara and then go back to Coruscant.

"... That's what I wanted to talk about..." Canivete frowned, her gaze lowering guiltily onto the floor. "You're not going."

"What?" He stared at her, eyes going wide and jaw dropping slightly.

"I've noticed your vitals have been a little erratic as of late..." She explained "And I know you've been downplaying it too. You've been sleeping less and draining more energy than usual. Down there there's no way of telling if we'll be able to meet your requirements, and I don't want to risk a freakout in the middle of the field. Especially not if you start zeroing in on the General or his saber..."

"I... You had me written out of the mission?!" He didn't know what to say. He felt betrayed. "What the hell Canivete?!"

"I'm trying to protect you!" The medic snapped at him.

"I don't need protecting!" He barked back, furious that she'd go behind his back like this. "I'm not a ticking time bomb! I've been preparing for this! Been feeding regularly so I wouldn't have to worry down there!"

"We have no idea how long this might take! You can't possible tell me you think this will be a quick run... Not with how little we have on the enemy or their goddamn tech!"

Snarling, Peel turned away and began to pace again. On one hand, Canivete was right. This was definitely not striking him as an easy campaign and he didn't even know if all the preemptive feeding would maintain him for long. He'd been getting hungrier and hungrier recently. Something deep in him feeling like something big was coming... He wasn't sure what, but he had his suspicions.

And so did his worrywart sister.

If he ended up running on empty down on Umbara... He might become desperate enough to eat his brothers's blasters as a last resort. Or worse... Try to eat their Jedi. And if neither of those things happened? What would become of him? Would he collapse? Would he die? Neither of them knew for sure...

The point was that, by technicality, he was a liability and Canivete was right to request he stay on ship. It was the safer option.

But he didn't want to sit around while his brothers, sisters and siblings fought a bloody battle. He didn't want to be separated from them and be left wondering if any of them would come back safely. Something deep in his core told him they might not.

Not that he had a choice in the matter. Canivete had made sure of it.

"I'm sorry Peel. I really am... But as a medic I have to do what's right by my patients." Cani looked genuinely sorrowful. "And as a sister, I have to do what's right by my siblings... Even if I have to go behind their back to do it..."

"If you die down there, I'll never forgive you." He spat out coldly, uncaring if he hurt her feelings. "I won't say your name in my remembrances, you hear me?"

"...That's fair." He hated that she looked resigned to that. He wanted her to argue with him. Not accept whatever he told her in a fit of bitter anger. "Keep the ship safe Peel. I'll do my best to make sure everyone comes back in one piece..."

With that all said, the medic turned around and left. His words weighed heavier in his heart because she didn't look back. Peel was watching his vode, his loved ones, marching towards uncertainty and potential death. And he couldn't do anything about it. He felt helpless.

Moments like these made him wish he wasn't such a goddamn freak.

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 23: Forced to Watch

Summary: With no way to contact those down below on the planet's surface, the troopers that were left to protect the Venators feel nothing if not helpless just waiting for the campaign to be over.

Warning: N/A

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Boil was restless, which wasn't all too surprising. It was always like this whenever he ended up assigned to protect the Negotiator, rather than being sent to either do reconnaissance or engage the enemy. He'd be left pacing with a mug of caf in hand, or be looking out at the chaos below while checking comms.

Counting the minutes, hours and days until the mission was done and over with. Until his brothers and General returned.

It was pretty monotonous. An unchanging, achingly boring, routine that he'd gotten used to a long time ago, back when he was still pretty much a shiny. Well before he'd earned his paint or even considered growing his facial hair, into the glorious and well maintained mustache that it was today.

Everyone had their turn being left behind on the ship to rest and recover from prior campaigns. Just like everyone had a turn gallivanting towards uncertain doom with their Jedi leading the way.

This time something felt different however...

The atmosphere around the ship felt incredibly tense. Wound up like it was expecting something awful, despite the fighter pilots doing such a good job of keeping enemy ships far from the Resolute and Negotiator's range (both of which were in sight of each other, with a great big view of everything around and below).

On occasion, Boil could even see Commander Tano's ship zoom by, the young togruta making a point to wave whenever she caught sight of a trooper watching her fly by. Always polite that one, unlike her insufferable master who had a tendency to show off with cocky delight.

Even so, through his scopes he could see that she was also visibly worried about the state of things. The way her brow was furrowed and her smile looked a little too tight, indicative of her own concerns that she did her best to hide from the less observant soldiers.

Whatever it was that they were feeling right now, this strange unease that would not leave them be, the little Jedi could sense it too...

And that was never a good sign.

Looking over his shoulder, Boil noticed Peel passing by. The other trooper looking worse for wear as he paced the halls quietly like a ghost. If he was still upset about staying on board, he couldn't really tell. But he certainly didn't look too happy about the radio silence.

They'd lost communication with the ground troops a while back. At some point Tacet had temporarily brought them back up, but then they'd gone eerily silent once more. There hadn't been enough time to request a quick sitrep, and not once did General Kenobi nor Commander Cody try to reach them.

It was a little worrisome...

Very briefly, Boil wondered if the 501st were having the same issue. Wondered if the men on board the Resolute were just as stressed as her sister ship's crew. Left scratching their heads at the ominous silence and lack of any news from the battlefront. Left to worry about who may or not return to them at the end of this grueling campaign...

If Commander Tano looked stressed while flying high, while engaging enemy ships and still finding the time to be polite so as to give even the slightest bit of a morale boost, then he had no doubt that the answer was probably yes.

Her men were down there too. Her vode. And his as well.

She understand the anxiety that came with being in their current position. A position they most definitely did not want to be in. The conclusion to be made was that all of them weren't too happy about being forced to wait and watch. It just wasn't in their nature.