not seen hard work in some time. Bipedal medical droids, their polished silver bodies reflecting the fires burning in the cityscape, walked behind them, each pulling a treatment cart with a tri-level gurney behind it.
Malgus rose and approached them. The doctors’ eyes widened at his appearance—his scarred mien alarmed most—and they gave crisp salutes.
“There are several wounded within,” Malgus said. “The Twi’lek female is my servant. Care for her as you would me.”
“An alien, my lord?” asked the older of the two men, his jowls dotted with a day’s growth of gray beard. “As I’m sure you know, Imperial medical facilities in-theater are restricted—”
Malgus took a step toward him and the doctor’s mouth snapped shut.
“Care for her as you would me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord,” the doctor said, and the medical team hurried past.
More explosions rocked the urban landscape. A bomb struck a power station, and an enormous flare of plasma jetted half a kilometer into the sky. A flight of ISF interceptors, notable for their bent wings, streaked over the Temple. The Sith around him cheered.
Eleena emerged from the Temple, her mouth tight with pain. The doctor trailed after her, worry creasing his brow.
“Please, mistress,” the doctor said, eyeing Malgus with terror. “Please.”
Eleena’s eyes widened as she took in the scale of the bombardment, the destruction. Malgus stepped before her.
“Go with the doctors,” he said. “There’s an Imperial medical ship, Steadfast, in orbit with the rest of the cruiser fleet. Await me there. I will come when I am finished here.”
“I do not require care, Master.”
“Do as I command,” he said, though his voice was not harsh.
She swallowed, smiled, and nodded.
“Thank you, my lord,” the doctor said to Malgus. “Come,