STAR WARS / FiM: Realms of the Heavens

by Tathem_Relag

Chapter Forty-Four: Wounds

Canterlot Castle
4:09 P.M.

Celestia landed on the balcony with her head low and tears soaking the fur on her cheeks. She had badly hurt the Imperials, but in their normal fashion, they had responded by inflicting even greater harm on innocents. Their actions demanded righteous and violent retaliation, but that would just result in them increasing the scale of their murder even more. There was only one way to win this war, she realized. The humans had to be utterly crushed, and soon, or there wouldn’t be many ponies left.

She forced herself to look strong and confident as she walked through the halls on her way to the infirmary. Seeing her broken and defeated would destroy what little morale the Royal Guard had left. The Guardsponies silenced their whispers as she passed, but she knew what they were talking about. They were shocked by the Inquisitor’s ability to infiltrate the castle and the damage he had done, frightened by the rage and power their Princess had displayed, and horrified by the humans’ retaliation. Ponyville could be seen from the ramparts, and word of its devastation had spread before her return. Fillydelphia was far enough away that some ponies could avoid thinking about it, but Ponyville was a different story. Everywhere Celestia looked, Guardsponies had fear and resignation in their eyes. A few wore expressions of hateful resolve, but she could tell that most were only still willing to fight because she was ordering them to. They had lost the will to resist.

The infirmary was a far different scene from the quiet halls. Maimed ponies screamed around her. Most weren’t actually being operated on – the Inquisitor’s lightsaber had cauterized the wounds it made, so only the most serious injuries were immediately life-threatening. Celestia winced and looked away from one bed, having noticed the condition of its inhabitant’s head just before it was covered with a sheet. She made her way to the back of the room. In one bed, Twilight had her left legs and wing in casts. She didn’t seem to even notice Celestia, instead being intently focused on the lightsaber hilt laying on the bed stand. Rainbow Dash was similarly unresponsive, though she was simply staring off into the distance. Celestia’s eyes lingered for a moment on the bandaged stub that was all that remained of Equestria’s greatest flier’s left wing. The next bed surprised her. A captured human, one wearing a light blue uniform, was working feverishly on the patient in it. This patient was quite aware of his surroundings, and was cursing at the human doctor, complaining of shoddy handiwork, questioning the validity of the doctor’s medical license, and threatening the doctor with a court-martial and a variety of punishments that ranged from the horrifying to the downright nonsensical. “Zem?!”

The patient broke off his tirade and gave the Princess a jaunty wave. “Oh, hello, Your Majesty. Apologies for the language, but Torsin here has absolutely no bedside manner.”

“Bah,” the human doctor muttered. “I’m a medic, not a pediatrician. Besides, you’ve only got yourself to blame. If you didn’t keep moving, these sutures wouldn’t tear.”

“Yeah,” Orramas chuckled, “but what’s the fun in doing everything the doc says?”

“You’re a real schutta, you know that?”

“Course I am! Everyone’s a schutta to his superior officers.”

The medic responded with a snort. “Yes, yes, and when you’re wounded, the medic always outranks you. Now shut up and let me fix this hole in your abdomen.”

Celestia shook her head in amazement. “I can’t believe you’re still alive, much less awake and making jokes.”

Orramas smiled. “Yeah, well, I’m one damn tough ba–” The cheerful expression on his face vanished, and he inhaled sharply. Then, almost immediately, his smile returned. “–stard. I don’t die so easily.”

“Oh, please,” came the medic’s rejoinder, “your toughness has nothing to do with it. You’re just lucky lightsabers cauterize their wounds and he didn’t stab you anywhere vital.”

“I don’t think luck has anything to do with it, either,” Orramas replied quietly. “I think he wanted me to suffer before he finished me off.”

The medic was silent for a long moment as he worked. “Well,” he finally said, “your spinal column is intact, so you’ll be able to walk again. Biggest concern is infection. Got a lot of dust in there from the ceiling collapse, and intestinal leakage is… nasty. The cephalosporin injections will help, but I’m not used to working with so little bacta. Your intestines should heal fine, but without a bacta tank, your damaged abdominal muscles aren’t coming back. You’ve probably noticed some difficulty breathing. You’re going to have to live with that the rest of your life. You’ll also have difficulty with urination and defecation, and you’ll never stand straight again. I’m sorry, but without Imperial medical technology, there’s nothing else I can do.” He turned to face Celestia. “And speaking of Imperial medical technology, I suppose this is a good time to tell you that –”

Orramas reached up and grabbed the medic’s arm. “Let it go, Torsin.”

The medic looked shocked. “But, sir –!”

“Let. It. Go.”

“I… Oh. Y-yes, sir.”

Celestia frowned. “Somehow, I get the feeling this is something I need to know. Please, continue, Doctor.”

“I… Well…” he stammered, looking between her and Orramas.

“It’s fine, I’ll tell her,” Orramas said with a sigh, causing a look of relief to appear on the medic’s face. Then Zem fixed Celestia with a fierce glare. “But you have to promise not to tell Fluttershy.”

“Oh?” Celestia raised an eyebrow. “And why would that be?”

“I want to tell her myself, later. When I think we’re both ready.”

“What are you talking about, Zem?”

“Just promise me!”

Celestia nodded slowly. “Very well, I promise.”

“Good.” Orramas closed his eyes and lowered himself back onto the bed, going quiet for a few seconds. “I have Kanju’s disease,” he finally said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “It’s a genetic disorder, affecting the lungs. When alveolar cells die, they’re replaced with scar tissue instead of lung cells. In the Empire, it’s treatable with a monthly injection that makes the lungs repair properly. But without that injection, it’s fatal. I’ve got thirteen days before I’d normally get my next shot. After that, my lungs will begin deteriorating. In about half a year, I’ll start coughing a lot. Two or three months later, the coughs will have blood in them, from the scars tearing at the still-healthy tissue. That speeds things up. Once the bleeding starts, I’ll be dead within a month.”

---

Location: Everfree Imperial Garrison
Local Date: 11/19/4
Local Time: 09:00

Aerin stood to the side of a Sentinel-class shuttle’s boarding ramp, his hand to his brow in a salute. Facing him on the other side of the ramp was Gavrisom, who was in an identical posture. Two lines of saluting officers and troopers with long rifles extended from them to the base’s main door. It hissed open, letting out a procession of officers pushing hoversleds. Each one carried a white casket marked with the Imperial Crest. Aerin hoped none of the families those caskets were going to insisted on looking at their loved ones. Imperial morticians were quite skilled at covering blaster burns with synthskin, reattaching or replacing limbs, and shaping faces into peaceful expressions, but there was very little that could be done to pretty up the blackened husks that were all that remained of First Company.

As the first casket approached him, Aerin could suddenly see inside it. The body wasn’t some charred skeleton. Much of it was, indeed, burnt, but it was also torn and bloody, missing most of its right side. The semi-intact half of its head bore a face Aerin knew all too well. It turned to look at him, meeting his one-eyed gaze with its own. It couldn’t have spoken, not with its throat ripped out, but it did anyways. “Why, Dav?” it rasped. “Why did it have to be me, not you?” It let out a wet cackle. “I guess that old heirloom really did have all my luck in it. Are you happy, Dav? You took my luck to save yourself. You killed me.”

Aerin wrenched his eye off the casket as it went up the ramp and looked instead at the dark forest. It became even darker as he stared, the trees growing at an incredible rate, until they were the size of Coruscant skyscrapers. Between him and the imposing trees was not a collapsed, half-melted watchtower but the blazing ruins of a forward command center. He wasn’t screaming, but not for lack of trying. The blood pouring from his mouth choked any sound he made. Medics’ hands grasped at him, trying to get a firm grip and carry him away, but his skin peeled off wherever they touched him. His roasted flesh, the shards of durasteel in his right eye and all throughout his body, and the blood running into his left eye were agonizing, but the wound that hurt the most was on his right forearm, where the deepest burn was in the shape of a thin knife.

A hand suddenly rested on his shoulder. “Dav?”

Gavrisom’s face was filled with concern. The procession was over, and the men involved were gathered around in a large circle. Aerin didn’t know how long he had been standing there at rigid attention, and he didn’t really care. He seized Gavrisom in a vice-like hug. “Don’t let go, Sturm,” he sobbed. “Please, by the Force, don’t let go.”

Comments

[Mr Dorito]

I hope the Imperials destroy the ponies.

If they absolutely have to to prevent a defeat, Vader or a Grand Admiral should be sent with their fleets.

[Fluttercoat]

Okay as much as I want the imperials to win I draw the line at some point and that point is when Dashie got hurt in the way she did. I still want the imperials to win but now I want the inquisitor dead.

[Atlas55]

7810517 I also want the Empire to win and for the Inquisitor to die but that wont happen as the Emperor wants the inhabitants of the Planet under his control and he will sacrifice anything and anyone for that.

[Fluttercoat]

7810828 meh true enough. I was just so shocked at what happened to Dashie that is instantly like okay that basterd needs to die. I was also mad when Flutters got shot cause she's my favorite and Dashie is my second favorite

[Atlas55]

7810837 Meh, I could care less about the Ponies. I just want the Inquisitor to die because he's a dick.

[Anon ymous]

>People getting this emotional over a sub-human pony.

I for one, accept our new imperial overlords.

[Neo-Scott-Lightning]

God fucking damnit! Why the hell is orramas still alive, traitors everywhere! Why can't you ever just have loyal boys willing to fight for the empire *grumbles*

Man the empire better win! And i hope to saint fucking Lucifer himself the empire opens a major can of Woop ass on these little shits.

And yes malen is a dick, but the dark side does that.

[211]

The number of people who are on the side of the genocidal Space Nazis is frankly quite disturbing.

[Black Jack]

7984136
I know right I just wish more people wanted the ponies to win like I do

[batran]

8388338
Human pride?