The three Rogues and Colin sat in Med-bay, as an Em-dee droid placed bacta patches on the cuts and bruises that Wes and Wedge managed to accrue during the stint in the hanger bay.
"Stars, it’s only 0900 and we’re in Med-bay." Wes grimaced as a bacta strip was placed on a cut on his cheek.
Wedge gave Hobbie, who was sitting with Colin in a hard-backed chair looking at a picture book, a hard look.
Hobbie, sensing a bad-mood, looked up at his commanding officer. "What?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" Wedge asked tersely. "I’m sitting here with bacta patches over two tenths of my body and all you can say is ‘What?’"
Hobbie shrugged. "Not my fault that Wes weighs more than he looks."
Wedge snorted incredulously. "Hobbie, Colin almost destroyed the hanger. Now I’m not sure if you noticed, but the X-wing that he was using to turn the squadron X-wings into slag, was YOURS."
"You have kitchen duty for a month."
"What?! Wait a minute! No fair. If I get kitchen duty so do you."
"I beg your pardon?" Wedge carefully slid off the cot and walked over to Hobbie. "By your rank insignia, Klivian, you are a Major," Wedge stated, pointing to the row of pips on Hobbie’s uniform. "I, on the other hand, am a General. I out-rank you. You can’t give me orders." He hissed.
"Fine, though next time I suggest that you watch what you say around those under the age of five. ‘Nerfsith’ is hardly a word to be teaching kids."
"Nerf…" Hobbie clamped a hand over Colin’s mouth before the tot could finish the word.
A slow smile spread across Wedge’s face, causing Hobbie swallow hard. He gave the General a questioning look and removed his hand from Colin’s mouth.
"Well then. By that standard, I guess I’m not allowed to swear around Wes anymore then, huh?"
Hobbie snorted as an indiganant "Hey!" emanated from Wes.
Continued in Part Seven