The Importance of Wearing Helmets, Part 2

THE IMPORTANCE OF WEARING HELMETS, PART 2

Helmets? Helmets? A helmet's got nothing to do with it. Continuing the misadventures of the intrepid Captain Scruffy and his drug-addled sidekick Revan--uh, Raven, now augmented with 98% more arguments, action, and a rule-breaking format change! Oh, and don't forget to bring your towel along for the trip!

(Kudos go out to DarthRedHead for proof-reading this chapter before it was watered down for the public consumption. If you don't find yourself choking over a watershed of typos, you'd better have her to thank for it.)

TARIS: UPPER CITY: 1930 (DAY 3)

'How are you feeling?'

Huh?

'How are you feeling?'

I crack open my eyes. Above me appear to be hanging the cavernous nostrils of -- I squint at the plastic name tag on the jacket --Doctor Zelka Forn, Intergalactic MD.

'Eeeughaa!' I shriek and roll off the sides of the table. My head is wobbly like one of those bobble-toys people buy to put in the cruiser dashboard. I don't think I've even drunk enough to be drunk, but I can't remember even drinking anything in the first place. It seems I'm in some kind of sterile room with floating balls of robot circling the entrance. I study the six foot tall ball of orange bending over me, which I think I recognize as one of the characters on a children's holovid.

I'm confused by the overtures of the anthropomorphic color trying to pick me up.

'Do I know you?' I inquire politely, which I feel is uncharacteristic, but I don't know why. I take another look around at the clear kolto tanks in the room and open my mouth again: 'Wait, where the Hoth-buggers am I?'

'You're in the operation center,' explains the doctor, 'I had to put you under for the surgery.'

'Surgery?'

'To remove your injector.'

'My what?'

It all rushes back. What the Hoth am I doing being polite to the vadge-sucker pilot? Screw him! He's the one who landed me in this doped-up mess in the first place. That nagger-biting-douche-phizzor. I spring up and throw myself at the Republic, forcing him back against the wall with more force than he's expecting. The wide-eyed mix of shock and surprise on his face is well worth it and I wonder what else I can do to terrify him. 'You fracking arsemonger... What injector did you take!?'

His brown eyes don't waver. The doctor answers instead: 'This. The device is heavily modified and couldn't be removed by normal means so we had to operate under heavy medications, which meant―'

My hands tingle. I can feel a crackle almost like electricity on my fingers. I'm having trouble focusing. Pain is screaming through the blood vessels in my ears and eyes. I dimly think that the level of anger I'm feeling is a little out of proportion with the actual actions of what they've done. But to my credit, no decent rim-walker would ever part with their implant it unless it was over someone's very dead body.

I let go of the pilot and move towards the Doc, upending a tray of tools and batting aside droids, my whole body tipping forward for the attack. I aim for his dark, sagging neck, and gauge how far I'd have to lunge in order to strangle it.

'No one gave you permission to touch me, worm.' The voice is cold and hoarse and doesn't sound like me at all. I have only a second before an irresistible urge takes over and my arms rip forward, faster than anyone can react. I've got the man in a vice grip before Flyboy is even on to me, yelling and pulling, trying to pry my fingers loose from the lab-coat's neck.

'Snap out of it! Hey! What are you doing? Hey, HEY!'

SLAP.

What? The world comes back into focus. The orderly Gurney is goggle-eyed before me and his face is all red and splotchy. This isn't the doctor. I turn to glare Republic right in the eye. Both his arms are gripped firmly around my waist and elbows, pulling me away. I kick and scream as he hauls me bodily away: 'You bloody kinrath-naffing, smek-eating, bantha-kissing cockpit monkey, leggo of me RIGHT NOW!!'

He pins me against the corner of the room, using the walls as a barrier framed by his body.

'WHAT IN THE NAME OF TARIS IS ALL THIS ABOUT?'

'I kill you dead!'

'What?'

'I don't have to explain myself to you!'

'YES, YOU DO!'

'NO, I DON'T!'

'YES YOU DO BECAUSE I AM YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER!' His face is right up against mine, and I can feel the hot breath off my cheek. I try to wiggle enough room to sock him a good one in the nadgers, but he responds by just pressing me harder against the wall.

'I'M NOT ONE OF YOUR STUPID SOLDIERS! I'M NOT, I'M NOT, I'M NOT NOW LEMME GO, YOU HAIRLESS WOOKIEE!'

'HARILESS WOOKIEE? Alright, just... just... just calm down before your head explodes!'

I want to yell and tear his hair out, but I'm out of breath and I really can't think of anything else to say. He's panting just as heavily, flushed, and at this angle I finally notice the pattern of pale scratch marks highlighting his face. Scruffy takes a deep breathe and counts to ten slowly before continuing, 'You were just under for an hour for surgery, that's all.'

'You knew?'

'Well, yeah. They asked me to sign the papers―'

'―and you let them? Oh, I really am going to kill you so bad.'

His arms my shoulders start to tighten again, but then he changes his mind and lets go. 'I don't know how you got it past the Republic with an illegal implant on you, but from now on, you've got to go clean and sober, soldier.'

'How many times so I need to tell you? I'm not your solider, cockpit.' I spit out the word as if it were something dirty.

'Yeah? Well what are you then? Because it seems pretty suspicious to me that--' He stops. 'No, right now is not the time for this.' I follow his gaze to the orderly and the Doc, who've moved to the operation table to patch the droid nurse.

'This isn't over,' I tell Scruffy as he relinquishes his grip. I throw him a frown I hope is properly venomous.

'I think I liked you better when you were asleep.'

'What?'

'I said it's so much better now that you can speak.'

Huh? 'Oh, right.' I touch my cheek. There's a slight upraised area where the kolto seal was applied, but the skin is otherwise smooth and whole. 'Good medicine.'

The doctor's applying something to the nurse, but stops long enough to give us both a very stern frown. 'If you are done terrorizing my assistants and my droids, please get the hex out of my hospital this instant. Don't even bother to take care of the bill at the door. We'll have it covered by the Sapient Security fund so you can just leave right now, right away.'

I run both hands down the sides of my pockets.

'But--'

'Raven, I think we'd better--'

'But--'

'Raven--'

By now I've finished taking stocks. Looks like no one bothered to take anything out when they checked me in for this appointment. 'Oh, fine, oh fine. We'll go now.' I put on a sullen face for the doctor to hide my glee and snatch the injector off the table. 'This is mine,' I say and fix him with a glare, just in case. He waves me off dismissively.

'And you don't have to bother coming back,' the wannabe tough-guy Gurney bleats belatedly after us, 'you're not welcome here at all!' I don't even both looking back when I flip him off.

We wander again into the heat of the night, the lights of Taris flickering like so many Telosian firebugs gone on some sort of psychedelic, multi-colored joyride. I whistle a tune as we stroll down Centrifuge Boulevard, hands clamped to the two sides of my face, happy to have the use of my jowls back. With a pocket full of priceless meds and a stomach full of empty, there's little else a person could ask for, save to head on over to the nearest cantina and pick myself up some food, alcohol, and maybe an alien invitation to bed for the night. I've just about worked out the ideal situation for a Twi'lek-human threesome when the Five O'clock Shadow interrupts with his gloomy face.

'What?'

'We didn't finish our conversation in the medical center.'

'What's there to say? You were going to blurt out that we're Republic refugees in everyone's faces and I was going to deny it. I was never part of yer stinkin' crew anyway.'

'And yet, it's more than a little surprising that you happen to be here, isn't it? Just what happened to be your position with the Republic fleet, anyway?'

'Public Relations.'

'You must think I'm stupid.'

'A little.'

'You expect me to believe that?'

'You got a problem with it?'

'Hell no -- except that as far as I've seen, you've got all the survival tact of a blind three-legged rancor! And I just think it's a bit odd that someone who got added to the crew roster at the last minute just happens to be one of the survivors.'

I start guiltily. How did he know ― oh, must've been on my service records. 'I really don't know what you're talking about.' But don't look at the fingers I'm crossing behind my back! I've no plans to tell him about the transmission... it was accidental-like, I swear. It's not my fault the Republic's full of incompetent bureaucrats who need a little extra-greasy diplomacy on the go--I mean, so now it's all my fault that my employers were unscrupulous enough to hire me to oil a few cogs in the Sith barricade network?

'I'm telling you, 'Pubbie, I had nothing to do with the crash.'

'Well, let me ask you this―'

'The escape-pods? Uh, no, why? Why would you even want to ask me about that? I didn't have anything to do with it!'

'What? I hadn't even asked anything yet.'

'Hah. Er. Okay. Uh, I'm sorry. I just had a bad flashback to hitting the wall of the escape pod on the way down ― can't remember a thing about it, dontchaknow?'

'Yeah, uh, well, do you want to talk about it?'

'No.'

'Because as your commanding officer, it is my duty to be here if--'

'Thanks, but no thanks.'

'I am certified in basic field psychiatry.'

'Is that why you're so paranoid?'

'Paranoid? You think I'm paranoid? Who's the one passing suspicious glances my way all the time?!'

'See? That's just what I mean. I ain't given you no suspicious glances all day. I'm been awake for three hours and already you've been harping on me.'

'Okay, this is just not coming out the right way.' And all of a sudden, Flyboy decides it's a good time to stop inconveniently (and conspicuously) in the middle of Tarisian evening traffic, with his hands thrown half in the air and that look of perplexed frustration twisting lines across his face, oh-so-obvious in his orange-plummaged glory. Some of the interested looks on the passerby's faces are starting to look too interested for my comfort. I forge ahead, forcing him to follow, and quickly change the subject while I'm at it: 'How about if I asked you a few questions?

'Why?'

'Well, I just wanted to, you know, get to know the situation better. But we don't have to talk if you don't want to.'

'No, no. I'm fine. Go ahead and interrogate me.'

'It's not an interrogation!' By Auntie Zinbara's beard, what did I ever do to deserve this man?!!

'Fine, go ahead and ask your questions.'

'Fine! Do you know what happened to the Endar Spire?'

'Didn't we discuss this already? We were ambushed and outnumbered. Why do you think it crashed?'

'Well then, where were you when the fight stared?'

'I...'

'You were probably too busy getting knickered with one of the control room wenches, weren't you?' I elbow him intentionally, hoping the distraction will get him off my case. 'Handsome devil like yourself?' Flattery, Uncle Small Jho always said, will get you everywhere. 'How's about getting over to the cantina and finding us some of those here, Hotshot?'

'No! To tell the truth, I was only onboard as an advisor for the most part. The battle began so fast, it's anyone's guess as to what actually happened. I'm just trying to figure it out, myself. I saw enough men lose their lives needlessly during the Mandalorian Wars. It's... difficult to see that happening all over again. We didn't choose that battle, anyway. It got forced on us. Hell, I'm just surprised that any of us are alive to talk about it. We lost the ship and a lot of good people... and for what? On the hope that Jedi powers would save us, somehow. Not that Bastila had much of an opportunity to act.'

I sigh. I thought all pilots loved chasing tail? But noooo, I get the one with the paranoid Jedi complex. 'You don't seem to like the Jedi much.' In fact, you don't seem to like anyone much. I don't know why, but the thought makes me a little sad. But I keep the last bit to myself.

'Don't get me wrong, it just seems odd that someone Bastila's party specifically requested to transfer aboard happened to survive.'

'Bloody buggers! Look, the Jedi requested a bloody number of things when they came on board, by Hoth, they practically took over the ship as far as I could tell! What's so odd about me being added to the crew at the last minute? And if superstition and fear of coincidences is all you've got...'

'I just don't like surprises, that's all.'

'Are you getting all freaky paranoid on me again?'

'I just wanted you to know that doesn't mean I'm going to stop watching you or being wary. I'm just not built that way. Period.'

What did I do to set off the string of hostilities? 'Alright! Fine! Watch my toochus until the nerfs come home for all I care. What ever did I do to you, anyway?'

'You, uh... haven't done anything yet. But there's no guarantee that you won't do anything in the future. I've been betrayed before by people and I... well, it won't happen again.'

I roll my eyes. 'Whatever.' Not like I'm looking for a best friend, anyway, especially not in a psychologically-impaired pilot. 'There's just no winning with people like you who're―'

'― and if you're smart, you won't trust anyone either.'

'Oh yes, because I could betray you at any moment. It would be sooo horrible.' I roll my eyes. As if outright betrayal wasn't already on the agenda as soon as I figured a way off of this rock? What kind of Ossus-grown do-goody kinda hick was he? I figure if Scruffy didn't figure, I wasn't going to tell him.

'Hey, I don't remember ever saying anything about 'traitor'! All I mean is that if you're smart, you won't trust anyone... not me, not Bastila and especially not yourself. I don't know that you'll betray me. But there are no guarantees... not for you, not for me. You don't have to take it personally.'

'I'm not taking it personally!'

'Look... I'm not trying to insult you. This is just the way I am, no need to take it personally.'

'As if I care!'

'Look... I don't expect you to be my friend. This is just the way I am.'

'Fine!' I throw up my hands. One moment he wants to be my streetside therapist and the next he's accusing me of blowing up his bloody Republic ship. Talk about personal issues.

Scruffy sighs. 'I knew you wouldn't understand where I was coming from. Let me try to explain.' No shikie, gizka-brain. But by now red flags are flying all over my sensors. I am so not smashed enough for this conversation.

'NO!!! Uh, I mean, no, that's quite alright. I understand already, thanks, I really do... I'm very good with the understanding. See? This is me understanding you. I totally get it. You're just cautious. Yeah. Perfectly fine to be cautious. I'd like to add it as my middle name, in fact. Captain Cautious, that's you, now can we please just got to the cantina and get something to drink?'

'A drink? I... I guess that's alright. What time is it? We should probably get something to eat too. Ahhh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it, even if you asked. I just find you, I don't know... easy to talk to. Look, I appreciate you listening like this. Maybe I'll tell you all about it sometime... uhm... later.'

Later. Uh oh. I don't like where this is going. Maybe I should have saved this conversation for later...

But it's already too late. We're here. He's gesturing now, inviting my straight into the krayt dragon's den, and for a moment, I hesitate. If I enter, there'll be no turning back. I wonder if there could possibly be enough alcohol in all the galaxy to get me through a night of listening to the life story of Captain Tighty-Pants, Rebel Wangster in Tangerine. I could run away and joint he traveling circus, maybe, forget the whole saving-my-life thing and pawn the meds I took from the hospital. I could turn this all around. But then my stomach turns traitor and growls, and I remember that I haven't had anything to eat in about three days, and the glitterstem buzz is waaay past any stage of kickin' me high.

'Coming?' he asks, as if he isn't planning to stab about a thousand whiny knives into my eardrums.

There is no way I'm going in, unless... well...

'You're buying,' I say. And I step inside.

Woosh.

---

'Ooooo, I dunno what I'm doin' toniiiight, and I gotta feelin' that sumthin' ain't riiiight! Hey, Mal,' I singsong to the man at my right, 'Whaddaya wanna do tonight, huh? Try and take over the galaxy!' I guffaw. 'Get it, hey? Hey?' I laugh some more. Sometimes, I'm just too damned funny for my own good.

'My name is not... Mal.'

'I am genuinely shocked! You mean you're not Malcolm Reynolds, Captain of the Fire-up-Yer-Bug! But you're, you're my heeeero! ' I blubber. 'Hero of the Republic, ain't that whattcha are? Can't hide who you are, Mal, haunts all of us inssssides. Ain't nothing in the 'verse can stop you from being who you truly are. You gotta believe in that, you just gotta believe. In something, anything. I really don't care... Just don't forget to invite me to the wedding, you hear? I wanna be there for Jolee to convince me to get drunk enough to start stripping!'

I fall over, giggling hysterically because I can see it already and I know it's going to be pretty damned funny.

'Yeah, yeah, c'mon, let's get you back to the apartment before you start taking your clothes off in the streets.'

'I'm a Scorpio, y'know, Mal. You know what that means? I have no idea what that means.'

'Right, right, whatever. C'mon, foot in front of the other, soldier. There we go...'

'No, no, really, Mal... Mal... I don't think we shoulda opened that shutta door, man. That really wossname, was a bad idea, yeah. You were right, man, tell your sister you were right about me... Red really isn't my color.'

'Er, yeah...'

I beam at him brightly, my new best friend, and grin to let him know that it is all going to be alright in the end. Everything is so pretty on Taris... the sparkling lights, the fluffly trails of exhaust spread out against the sky, the exploding buildings and people a few days down the line. And he has such a lovely duck on his head, too.

'You know, that's a word that is both a verb and a noun.' I smile dreamily at him, all the way to Coruscant. Or, at least, I think my smile went all the way to Coruscant. It's hard to tell when I can't see myself.

'I did good dint I? I got us tuh Sith armor.'

'Yeah, yeah, you did good, kid.'

'That Sith chick really dug me. She must've thought I was hot... You think I'm hot Carthy? You think Bastila's gonna like me?' He's kinda quiet. Sometimes people just suddenly stop talking, and Uncle Small Jho always said you should let them be 'cuz you never know if they're gonna be having one of those moments of silence.

'I just wanted her like me.'

'She'll like you plenty, Raven, I'm sure.'

'How 'bout you? Do you like me?'

'Well... honestly, I'm starting to warm―'

'Hang on.' I turn my head. I don't have time to listen to the pilot's response because the stars have already started singing. 'Oh, goody!' The Sixteenth Sidereal Mon Calamarian Symphony is being played a little too loudly for my tastes, but I make a note that I should remind the second movement not to bray so heavily on the pnematuba horns. I wonder how knew that, considering I've never studied music in my life. Details. I lean and sigh against the comfort of the orange jacket instead, putting it out of my mind, just hanging in the moment, a nameless nobody and my best bud, and snort sort of rumbling off my nose to announce to him that I am about to fall asl―

End.