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| - Coruscant: Medical Center and Academy - Reception This tall office is brilliantly lit from long glowing lamps set abut the junction of the walls with the floors and ceilings. The entire facility has been paneled completely in white plasteel, differing only in the black plasteel trim around the lights, and everything is kept clean and polished to sterility. The cleanliness coupled with the intensity of the illumination makes the whole area seem to glow with a light of its own. A long series of desks dominate half of the northern end of the office, and they are manned day and by a team of professional, fresh-faced young medical students and nurses. Transparisteel display boards stand up from the desks before their eyes, displaying data for patient histories, appointment schedules, and emergency medical requests from all over the planet in sharp green. The other half of the northern wall is set with many clean white double doors accessing repulsorlifts, each of which is large enough to hold a repulsorbed or other heavy equipment. The southern half of the office is filled with white chairs and long benches, all mounted to the floor and modestly cushioned in black. Outside it is hot, /too/ hot. People have fled indoors, for moderated temperatures. The medical center has a great many patients, most of them suffering from pseudo-heat stroke. One particular female, a fat twi'lek, fans herself while huffing loudly. "Oh, my dear!" she complains, closing her eyes. "I think I am going to.." A Rodian beside her suggets, "Faint?" as her massive body tumbles forward and splats hard against the floor. Standing far over to the side, and hooded, is a man with a bandaged hand. He surveys the crowd slowly. A crowd of sentients in white lab-coats turn around when the Twi'Lek falls. "There goes another one," grins a dark-haired man. This earns him a narrow look from a blonde woman nearby. Her hair is loosely tied up, hairdo bordering on sloppy, but there is nothing sloppy about the sharply professional look that she gives the fallen female. "I'll look into it," says Felicia and crosses the floor. She kneels down next to the fainted patient, attempting to turn her over. A gaze is flicked at the Rodian. "Help me?" Some people have their own ways of dealing with the heat. Excessive, improper, some might call it, but being one of the best surgeons on this side of the Galaxy, Dana Sherikk, M.D., can sometimes get away with working with a glass of iced Corellian whiskey in one hand, and a cigarra between her lips. "Let her stay on the tiles, they're cooler," the woman suggests from her stool at the reception desk. It would be much too bothersome to get up and help, especially off-duty. Instead, she beckons one of her students to help, the poor, overworked Liam L'hnnar, who despite his good name and titles, has to slave overtime, as part of his punishment. "Can I help with anything? Get her some ice, maybe?" The boy offers, bending at the knee to help. The Rodian holds up his hands and says, "She is too fat! My arms are so skinny.." he shies away, unhelpfully, and scratches his jaw. The fat twi'lek, meanwhile, breathes evenly and slowly, her massive gut allowing her to tip over onto her back. "My dear," she breathes out, "get me a box of chocolates, some Corellian wine, and a nice truffle frog. Oh yes, I could use the sugar.." The hooded man focuses on Sherikk and walks in her direction. Also off to the side, seated by their lonesome, are two men in black suits and black fedoras. They read from a datapad, and have barely moved in several hours. Most people ignore them. "You can prepare the paper-work for a stretcher." Felicia looks up at Liam, nodding at the boy. "She's not too hot, but she forgot to drink. She's to be given liquid intravenously until she's up and about again." "No sugar for you, it will drain the water out of your cells." Felicia's voice goes from calm at the twi'lek to a sharp yell into the room. "Will someone fetch me a drop of liquid, saline water, zero point nine percent. Hop to it!" Liam narrows his eyes at the Twi'lek. She could smell it on him, no doubt. That delicate aroma of Sugar Snaps, even contained in their pretty, ornamental, durasteel case. Sugar was sugar, and it called to some. Given orders, the boy practically jumps to them. "I'll get the saline drip. And get the droids to do the paperwork for the stretcher." Dr. Sherikk readjusts herself in her seat, watching the scene with dry amusement. Two fingers draw the cigarra from her lips, followed by a long exhale of smoke, then a palette-cleanser of whiskey. She catches a cube of ice with her teeth and rolls it in her mouth with a casual laze of a sprawling housecat. The twi'lek's upper lip, which is as fat as a pillow, quivers at the news of no candy. "... but!" she objects tiredly as the men in suits grumble and frown. "But how will I regain my energy!" she argues. She attempts to turn over, grunting. "Doctor Sherikk," the hooded man says. "I would like to review your medical examinations of patient two-zero-one-one-five-nine-seven. I believe you examined him yourself." Grey eyes, perfectly recognizable, focus on the reclining doctor as a bandaged hand rests on a counter. "And I would also like you to page a Doctor Felicia, if that is not too much trouble." Felicia smiles at Liam before she turns her attention back to the fat sentient on the floor. "Don't worry," the doctor says. "You will be better soon. However, I must stress how much damage you do to your heart and veins by consistently clotting them with fatty acids. Now, this here is a student of ours, Liam. He'll be placing the drop." The woman's grey eyes turn to Obi-Wan with a surprised expression. "I am doctor Felicia," she says, levelly. "How may I help you, sir?" The cigarra held lightly, Sherikk flicks her pinky against the burning tip of paper, showering hot ashes down to the white floor. The ice cube gets pressed to a corner of her mouth, against the cheek, in a slow motion, a long silence stretches as she does so, long enough to blankly stare at the Jedi for it to be poignant. "Right." Holding the frozen chunk, her tone comes out wet and muffled. "Felicia is here." Crack. Ice crushed between teeth as the other woman introduces herself. "Perhaps, we'll go up to the labs, where it's quieter?" A lazy blink directed to the sweaty crowds. Liam's return is prompt, hands occupied with a simple saline drip - something he's only performed a time or two, but considers himself quite the expert on. "We'll have a stretcher out here in a moment, but if you could just sit still, I can get the drip set up for you," the boy speaks evenly and calmly, perhaps too much so for a child his age. Were the Snaps that visible in his coat pocket? It sure felt heavier than before - a delicious, sugary burden to bear. The fat female continues to roll about, her lekku twitching. "Oh, my dear boy, a candy and some wine!" she complains. The men in suits continue to scowl at her, frowning deeply, as the sound of fat slapping against the floor makes some of the visitor's rather nausious. The hooded man turns to Felicia, then nods to Sherikk. "I must speak with you both about this patient. It will only be a brief interruption. If you will lead the way, doctor." He nods to Sherikk again and waits. "Lie still." Felicia places a calming hand on the twi'lek's shoulder, still looking to Obi-Wan. "Liam, let one of the other students tend to her and come with us. This may prove useful for your education." The blonde doctor flicks an annoyed look at the two men in suits. "And for goodness' sake, will someone tell them to remove those hats? Black suits in this heat... I don't know what they are thinking." "M'am, you are clearly in need of the restaurant, rather than the hospital." Or, perhaps you should cut back on the candy. Liam's had his fill of poor diplomacy today. "We'll arrange for a car to take you over there." The boy nods to a silver protocol droid in charge of such things - C2-MD, before turning his attention to Doctor Felicia. "Yes, m'am." Cordial enough, yet to see the Jedi's face. "Estimation: Arrival time of vehicle, two minutes, thirty-three seconds," C2-MD informs everyone within earshot. The longest two and a half minutes of their lives, with the sounds of flesh on tile growing progressively louder. Sherikk sighs sadly and makes her descent off her chair a long and laborious process. The others should know how big an inconvenience this impromptu meeting was for her. A second cigarra is drawn from the pocket and lit on the burning butt of the first - itself than promptly discarded into a passing service droid. Up the Repulsorlift, through a narrow corridor, and into the seclusion of the labs, quiet, at this hour. Sherikk turns back to the others, then, looking to the Jedi expectantly. The hooded man follows, letting each of them settle. "I will be brief," he begins. "Somehow, one of the Cassidy model's siblings knew it was me that kidnapped Cassidy, and immediately sought out the Jedi Retreat where she captured seventeen children, and my former Padawan Anakin Skywalker. I have two theories for this. The first is simple: the guards, where I captured Cassidy, simply told her my name. The second, that one of the medical staff who entered to check on his condition revealed this information to her." Obi-Wan sets down a folder on the table. "Thus, from now on, all research on the Clones will no longer be done in a Civilian center. It is simply too dangerous. Copy, and then delete every file you have generated on the Cassidy clone, and any file that references him, immediately. Return those files to me. Research will continue at a private facility inside the Unified Command Building. I am sorry for the inconvenience." "Along that same line, I suggest you be wary of any medical staff that spoke with the Clone for over five minutes, while not performing a medical procedure. I am also investigating military personnel who had access to him." "Finally," he focuses on Felicia, "the Cassidy Clone has accused you of "hurting" him. His sibling, Darla, has demanded your death. As a result, I will be transferring you permenantly to the UCB and arranging a new identity for you." Obi-Wan frowns. Felicia gives up on the troublesome twi'lek and follows the others into the conference room. With her hands calmly pocketed in the white lab-coat she listens to Obi-Wan's words, a frown deepening between her brows as the man carries on. "I only took a few blood samples," she states, somewhat defensively. "That is barely hurting a sentient being, he was treated well. But, I concur that the clones seem to be lacking in the department of logical and ethical thinking." The doctor tilts her head at the Jedi. "I am glad that you will arrange such for me. But it strikes me that you says Darla 'demanded' my death... surely noone in the Republic will take such a demand seriously?" Sherikk settles her iced whiskey on a lab table. "Done." With a wave of the hand. "The blood and tissue samples collected by myself will he transferred to the Unified Command Building. But, I cannot abandon my work here." More like, nowhere else would let her get away with the bantha poodoo she pulls. Ashes pepper the white flooring again, for emphasis. "Speaking of personnel that had spent too much time with the clone... Boy, come here." She beckons with a pinky to Liam, who had, up until now, been trying his darn hardest to be as slow and unnoticed as humanly possible. The blonde child in his oversized white coat approaches like a man approaching death - dragging one foot behind the other to stall. Between a rock and the 'Wrath of Sherikk' - a term used freely by the other students - the young nurse keeps his eyes on the floor, hands in his pockets, one wrapped protectively around his box of Snaps. "Yes.." he sighs out. ".. Spent quite a while with the clone, actually. Got all chatty, didn't you? Two hugs away from matching necklaces?" Now, she was just being mean. "They enjoy testing and torturing others," Obi-Wan replies. "I made the mistake of allowing him care. I should have done it myself, and not involved anyone. For that, I apologize. You have a good heart and have done nothing wrong." Frowning deeply, he continues, "Do you know how many greedy, backstabbing bastards there are in the Republic? You're going into hiding, you'll likely never leave the UCB for several years, and you can expect regular checkups," he finishes grumpily. Then, turning, he looks from Sherikk to Liam, whom he had not noticed. His bandaged hand grips slowly, pulling on the straps and tape... which pop. Obi-Wan's jaw sets, and he breathes slowly outward. With a jerk of his hand he pulls out a holo-image, then flips it forward so Liam can see. "Look at this photograph, Liam L'hannar," the Jedi Master says. The image of seventeen children, bound with super-refined tibanna explosives, is what the holo image reveals. It changes suddenly to a small boy, bound to a tree on a desolate world, who is also bound with explosives. And then to a handsome man with blonde hair, also bound with explosives, standing next to Cassidy and a woman with blonde hair. The blonde doctor looks somewhat crestfallen at the Jedi's words, but she does nod her agreement. "I hope that I will, at least, be able to continue my studies in the UCB." Felicia casts a disapproving look her colleague before turning to the holo-image, curiously. "Just ask the boy what you want to know, Sherikk, he is quite bright. Besides, if anyone let a child spend time alone with the Cassidy clone it is on their heads, not his." Sherikk shrugs. "I needed a smoke." Serious surgery requires a serious smoke break. "The clone didn't seem to keen on doing anything with the boy but talking." And /maybe/ she got distracted by a particularly good-mannered Republic Guardsman. She'd never tell. "Just because I don't like you," Liam raises his gaze to meet the Jedi's, after a brief glance to the holoimage. His gray eyes are cool as stone, a bitter contrast to the temperatures outside. "doesn't mean I'm stupid and blind to what they're doing." He leaves it at that, a stubborn set to his jaw. It would have earned him a slap on the neck from Sherikk, but she's getting a scolding of her own. Obi-Wan's hand shakes slightly, his grip tightening, before the holoimages cease. "You could have put /nineteen/ lives in danger," Obi-Wan says, looking between Liam and Sherikk. "And your excuses are.. requiring a smoke, and that you can see." The Jedi frowns. He focuses on Sherikk. "If I find you've neglected this child, or any child again, especially while working on a prisoner of /that/ level of threat I will have you arrested. Your negligence could have cost the lives of /nineteen/ people, eighteen of them children no older than Liam himself." He focuses on Liam. "As for you. Keep your mouth shut. Do you hear me?" Felicia remains quiet throughout the conversation and the Jedi's anger. Her eyes rest solemnly upon Obi-Wan, the doctor patiently waiting until he finishes speaking. "I shall go and start the deleting of the files," she says, quietly. "Master Jedi, I shall go to the UCB once I am done .. unless there is more I ought to do here first, before leaving." And with that she spins about and leaves the room. Liam was /done/ talking, anyway. He makes that very clear with a roll of the eyes and turn of his nose, lips drawn into a tight line. "Our students are perfectly capable of handling themselves. Of course, I had hoped your guards would be more competent." Sherikk takes poorly to criticism of her person. "The clone took a liking to the boy." The woman reaches down to draw the container of Sugar Snaps the boy had diligently been hiding in his pocket. "Delivered today, courtesy of your prisoner." She indicates the box. Poor justification for her actions, at best. "I will be speaking with my guards soon," he remarks. Obi-Wan takes the snaps and stares. He looks them over with a scowl, then hands them back to Liam. "Enjoy your treats, Liam." Afterwards, he steps to the side, and moves out through the blast doors.
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