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| - The sound of whirring and beeping of passing medical droids and diagnostic equipment fills the resting room of the New Republic Military Bay's wing. White washed walls and sheets hanging from angled rings line a long walkway, often traveled by busy nurses and their assistant droids. However, the afternoon is sparse as few injuries had been sustained in the recent days save for one... Sitting upright in a cot halfway cloaked from the main view of this particular wing of the infirmary, Flight Officer Raxis L'ygr lies resting physically as his mind is caught in a trap of both regret and bitterness. A patch of white plasti-bandages cover the fractured rim of his left eyesocket, healing rapidly with the best bacta the military could offer. His face lined with bruises, and a small white-winged bandage crossing over the bridge of his formerly broken nose, Raxis simply sits...staring out the window in a sullen manner. Lulls in appointments are to be treasured and used wisely. Senator Marx isn't entirely sure if visiting the two officers who she'd caught in a bloody brawl the day before counted as 'wise', per se, but Del is a curious sort. She's guided through the compound to the medical bay by a uniformed marine who has managed to pull 'keep the visitor out of trouble' duty, and once she spots Raxis near one of the windows, Del smiles at the marine and gestures towards him. "Thank you. I'll try not to keep you too long." After the marine has given her a polite but curt nod in reply, she makes her way towards Raxis, hands loosely clasped behind her back while her escort hangs back by the door. "What's the damage?" she asks lightly, tilting her head and offering him a wry smile. "You're looking a little less slippery today." Mustering a slightly bemused grin, Raxis lifts a bandaged hand in a weak gesture of greeting. Having spent the day with so many dark emotions while dreading the wrath of his superior officers, the coy remark from the Senator finds him off mark. "Well..." he begins, letting out a slow breath. "A hairline fracture at my eyesocket, a broken nose, facial bruises, and two split knuckles." He replies, stopping for a moment to reflect. "Ma'am...I'm so sorry that you witnessed that. I want to say that this is -not- the conduct of Ghost Squadron..." He begins, backtracking into apologies. Chuckling, Del holds up her hands to try silencing the apologies before Raxis can hit her with two many of them, stepping over to claim herself a free seat near the injured pilot. "I'm sure it isn't. Everybody has their bad days. This was.. particularly bad, perhaps, but I promise you I've seen a lot worse." Smiling wryly, she takes a quick look around the infirmary before returning her focus to Raxis. "I've got to admit, I'm curious to know what exactly was going on, but I'm not about to bug you to tell me if you don't want to. It's between you, Mister Corbet, and your CO." A beat. "And Ipex's stun rifle, technically." In reflection, Raxis pauses for quite some time, chewing at his bruised lip as he rolls with how to respond through his mind. Before long, Raxis lowers his voice in a reply. "Truly, ma'am...I blame myself," He starts, shifting slightly on his elevated cot before continuing. "I...was supposed to be mentoring Corbet. My commanders put me in charge of being an example of what a good soldier's supposed to be and, well, here I am right?" "Well, that's.. sort of an answer," Del muses, still smiling wryly. Still, she inclines her head, her expression thoughtful. "Being a mentor can be hard. Especially if someone /needs/ the mentoring," she says, lifting her shoulders in a helpless shrug. She looks him over curiously before squinting a bit. "I don't think I got a clear look at your pips.. what rank are you, if I can ask?" "Flight Officer, ma'am" Raxis replies, resting his bandaged fists at his lap with a smirk. "They wouldn't let me hang any of my gear in the room. What's been spoiled is being repaired right now." Brushing a lock of hair from his eye, he takes a deep breath and begins to speak again. "I don't mean to seem...skittish. I'm just trying to replay what happened in my head, and on some level I'm trying to blame myself and not Lance." Del's smile goes sympathetic. "I think I can understand that. A responsibility was placed upon your shoulders that was.. a little different than the ones officer's training and the pilot's school likely trained you for. Unfamiliar territory is always difficult to get the hang of. But I think maybe Corbet beat you up enough that you shouldn't try to help him finish the job," she adds with a teasing smile. Blinking a few times, Raxis looks down at the bandaged hands in his lap and runs a finger over the plastic of the bandages at his knuckles. "You're probably right but I feel terrible." He mutters, shaking his head in a self reflecting manner. "I don't know if it's right to say this, ma'am, but I came at him. I was told to mold him, and I came at him. Right now I'm just...embarassed. My father'd kill me himself if he were here. Does it make sense that I feel like I let -him- down?" "It makes sense," Del confirms, nodding slowly and running a hand back over her hair. "It's.. well. You're an officer. You've been trained to lead. Leaders often feel responsible for the people placed in their charge that way. It's not a bad thing." She spreads her hands. "A very stressful thing if you let it run you down, mind you, but not a bad thing." The door to the medical bay opens and in strides one First Lieutenant Kesander Beysarus. The Corellian wears a rather neutral expression. His demeanor is fairly business-like. After spotting the rack in which Officer L'ygr finds himself, the pilot of Ghost 7 directs his steps in that direction, coming to a halt at the foot of the bed. He nods with respect to the Senator, but does not add any words to the greeting. For a few moments, the blond-haired man surveys the younger man and his injuries. "Well you look like you're going to live, I guess that's something," observes the X-Wing driver dryly. "Just two things, Raptor and then I'll leave you alone to recover. First, you need to submit a full report regarding your fight with Officer Corbet to Major Sh'vani. There'll be a droid provided to assistance to you since your hands aren't in great shape. Second, as soon as the flight surgeon says you can be released from med bay, you're confined to your quarters outside of duty hours. This is effective until further notice. During duty hours you'll report to the droid maintenance center. They'll keep you busy, I assure you. Any questions?" Gulping at the sight of the intimidating Lieutenant, Raxis ushers a shake of his head in response, trying to avoid eye contact. "No sir...no questions." He says clearly, with a tone of defeat in his voice. "I'll have the report to Major Sh'vani right away. Del straightens slightly in her seat when Kesander arrives and she returns his silent greeting in kind. Someone evidentally knows when it isn't her place to speak up, and figures this is one of them. She simply sits and gives the pair of pilots the opportunity to converse - sort of - and turns her attention to her hands, perhaps trying to afford Raxis something resembling a little privacy. "Just between you and me, Raptor, I'm glad you're not in any worse shape," says Kesander, his business-like tone moderating slightly. "But don't expect to be flying again for a while. Major Sh'vani is in a high karking hover right now. I've never seen her this angry. Fortunately for you, I think most of her back-blast is going to be aimed at someone besides you. Of course that depends in part on what you put in your report, but I assume you'll be truthful as usual." Lowering his eyes, Raxis nods and finds himself unable to shuffle his feet in his half-elevated position. Fumbling with his hands, he finds the internal strength to look up to Kesander's eyes. "Sir, I want to take full responsibility for Lance Corbet's actions." He blurts out, biting the side of his lip. "Sir...I'll be more than honest on the report, but he was supposed to be in my care and I kar..." He stops himself from swearing, glancing to the Senator. "I messed up bad sir, and I'm sorry, but I want to take this in the full." At the aborted swear from Raxis, Del develops an odd smile, leaning forward in her seat. "I used to live on Nar Shaddaa. You can say karking," she tells him quietly, giving Kesander a quick, apologetic look for the interruption before she leans back in her seat again. "Honorable of you, L'ygr," says the Corellian with a sort of muted approval. "Anyway, you'll have your chance to tell your whole side of the story. This business will probably end up in front of a court-martial. But that's ultimately up to Major Sh'vani, I'd guess." Pausing for a beat, the pilot looks over at the Senator, perhaps mildly surprised at hearing one of the legislators of the Republic use such an oath. But he seems to shake it off quickly. "Anyway, I won't keep you any longer today. Get well fast, Raptor. I don't want your flying skills to get *too* rusty." And with this, the Lieutenant turns, with a nod of farewell to the Senator, and strides towards the exit from the Med Bay. Cringing, Raxis waits until he hears the door of the infirmary slap shut before he lets out an exhausted breath and seems to fall back onto his pillow. Rubbing his sore face, he peeks an eye at the senator with a slightly bashful look. "Would it help if I begged to please not let this fight affect your opinion of StarOps? I swear, ma'am...this whole thing is highly uncharacteristic." There's a little twinkle in Del's eye when Kesander looks towards her, but she doesn't say anything, or even grin - though she probably wants to. Once again, she returns his nod and offers him a polite wave when Kesander turns to leave, resettling her attention on Raxis just as the door is closing behind him. "It hasn't affected my views of any branches of the Republic's military, I promise," she tells him, finally letting that grin out. "Granted, my view of at least one of the higher-ranking officers is a little.. weird, now, but that's no fault of yours or Mr. Corbet's. It's his own fault for cheerfully leaping into a bloody fray in the middle of the military compound rather than attempting to break it up." While her expression and tone are still friendly and conversational, there is.. something. Not exactly disapproval, not exactly exasperation or confusion, but something in between all three when she mentions Ridge's part in the tussle. With a bit of a shrug, Raxis watches her calmly as he reflects back on the fight. "Well. I think on some level I owe that man a debt of gratitude." He pauses, chuckling. "I was getting my ass handed to me." "You owe Ipex more for shooting them off of you and ending the fight," Del laughs, shaking her head. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone go down that fast.. really, though, it's a matter of protocol. I'll admit right off that I've never been in the Republic's military, but I don't /think/ officers are meant to join brawls, so much as they're expected to stop them. Again, though, I may have missed a memo," she says, holding up her hands and smiling wryly. "It just struck me as odd. Not something I intend to pursue in any way." "Yeah, well I think before long if they need -any- help cleaning their droids I'm going to be the man to see. Then again, I can't speak much for Lt. Colonel Archilles, but on some level my pride really hopes he didn't join in because he felt sorry for me." He grins impishly, blushing. "Did I really look as pitiful as I felt?" "I don't know, it was hard to see through all the blood," Del replies in a deadpan, propping her chin up in a hand and winking at Raxis. "You were all looking pretty sad by the time it got broken up, but I don't think Lance's insistance on repeatedly punching you in the eye did you too many favors." She glances around before she lowers her voice. "Next time, just aim for the crotch. It isn't fighting dirty. /Any/ fight is a dirty fight by its very nature." "Oh c'mon you know I can't do that." Raxis laughs, starting to feel a little better. "I see it this way. They -told- me to basically show him what a good soldier acts like. I think I have a pretty good reputation around here for being a stand-up kind of guy. I fly, I work in the bays, I even have a confirmed kill on one of those Nexu that got caught in the Reprisal's guts." He adds, narrowly avoiding a bout of shameless self-promotion. "But seriously, what would I be teaching Lance if I gave him a punch there? That's making it personal." "I was thinking a hard knee, but a punch would work too," Del muses, glancing towards the ceiling. She thinks for a moment before she looks to Raxis again. "It wouldn't be making it personal. It would just be efficient. Look, talk to Lieutenant Ipex about it sometime, I guarantee you that she'll back me up." "I'll do that." Raxis replies with a chuckle, shaking his head at the humor of all of it. Pausing and reflecting, he turns to look back at the senator. "So if I may ask, what prompted the visit?" "Mostly? I was curious," Del admits, offering Raxis a self-depriciating smile. "And maybe your slurred insistance on taking responsibility for it after -- I'm really sorry -- getting the ka--" It's her turn to stop shy of cursing, and the smile turns even /more/ self-depriciating. "--...crap kicked out of you stuck in my mind a bit." A wry grin forms over Raxis' face, folding his arms for a moment before running his hand through his hair. Forgetting his bandages knuckles he winces, mouthing the word "ow" as he slowly shakes his hand at the wrist to wash away the sting. "Well, miss," He begins, making a face reminiscent of both a grimace and a playful scowl as he regards his hand. "If they ask me I'm still going to take it. I'm not going to lie. I don't owe Lance anything and it would also be a lie to say that he didn't directly punch me in the face for no good reason. To take it even further, he did it unprovoked and has a serious attitude problem. But I chose StarOps for two reasons. One...it would have made my parents proud to see me in uniform, and two...because I believe in what we do. They made him -my- responsibility and if there's any chance of repairing that messed up head of his, even if that means I get my ass kicked weekly, I'm going to go through with it." He pauses, daring to edge into a nearly flirtatious tone. "Now...if you'd told me -earlier- to try to knee to the groin before this all happened, maybe I wouldn't be in this predicament, eh?" "I'll try to show up before the fists start flying next time," Del promises, grinning roguishly at Raxis and folding her hands in her lap. "Your intentions are admirable, don't get me wrong.. but it's important that the officers who /need/ the discipline actually get it. If he deserves the heat for this one, he needs to take it himself, whether he's your responsibility or not." She shrugs helplessly at him, her grin almost bordering on apologetic. "If you take all of his heat for him, all that's going to change is that you'll both be sent packing, not just one of you, and that does noone any favors. Least of all yourself. /Try/ to be objective in your report and let the Major make her own decisions as to who's getting raked over coals? Don't offer to light them for her." "I've already decided that I'm just going to lay it out on the line for the Major. I wouldn't dare lie to them." Raxis replies, regarding her as thoughts seem to be racing past in his head. "I'm going to do what I can for him still, but you're right. Either way it's up to them, the best I can do is hang on, be honest, and start to consider what I'm going to do with my life if I get court martialed." Stopping to scratch his forehead, he takes a glance out the window, and then back to the senator. "I mean, I was telling him that if he didn't shape up he was going to risk getting washed out of StarOps, and then bam.." He emphasizes, slow-motioning a punch. "...guy just turned on me..." Del grins sympathetically. "If, for whatever reason, you wind up out of work, the government complex is right through Organa Park," she offers. "I have no idea what sort of work I could find for you, but I'd certainly be willing to try. I think it'll be moot, though. If all you did was try to talk some sense into him and got clobbered for it." "Well," Raxis smiles, nodding thankfully to the senator. "If you find me wandering about in Organa Park you'll be the first place I go to. But if all works well I'll get back on the flight rotation and back up into six hour patrols and recon duty to make sure that nice people like yourself are well protected on this nice planet." "Which is very, very appreciated," Del replies honestly, grinning lopsidedly at Raxis. "I don't know how you guys do it, but I'm very grateful that you do. Maker knows you're braver than I am." She casts a quick look back towards the infirmary door before she smiles oddly, thumbing towards it. "I should probably get going before my escort dies of boredom," she muses, shifting to get to her feet. "If it dulls the pain at all, know that I will never let Lance live down the fact that he was taken down by a five foot nothing twi'lek girl with a sugar deficiency. I intend to mock him for quite some time." Grinning, Raxis but can't help but reply with the first thing that comes to his head. "Well if you can, get me a picture of that hyper twi'lek girl so I know when to run screaming. After all, your beloved 'knee defense' won't be as effective." Smiling, he lifts his bandaged hand in a wave as she stands. "I appreciate you coming down here ma'am. I don't feel so bad at the moment. Thank you." "For someone so short, Wrista is a hard lady to miss," Del muses, inclining her head to Raxis. "Gray skin, red eyes, and usually marine fatigues. She sticks out. Just don't call her short where she can hear it. She's thrown me across a room before." She lifts a hand in a casual, lazy approximation of a salute. "Anytime. Now rest up. Next time we chat, I expect a lack of broken bones to be involved," she says cheerfully, waggling her eyebrows before she turns to make her way towards the door. Time to apologize profusely to the nice marine for taking so long.
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