"What the hell, you should be dead!"

'A credit for everytime someone's told him that....'

"Oh, stuff it."

Kal blinks and shakes his head, "Not you." He adds to Morad, who may well have thought the nasty remark was directed at him. Though given there was no one else the clone should be talking to, that might not come as a comfort.

"The Kaminoans gave Commandos a way to process pure bacta. We didnt need to find human-specific strains durring combat; any form of bacta would do." He explains breifly. "It's one of the ways we're superior to Troopers." Kal cant help but sound a little smug, there. What, a man couldnt have a bit of pride in his genes?

He pulls the needle out once the bacta has drained and flexes his fist. The blood has stopped trickling from his wounds, and he seems to be breathing easier, standing straighter.

"Much better." Though he frowns down at his DC-17, now annoyed with the blood-soaked and filthy state of the weapon. But it would have to wait.

He tosses the canister asside and starts moving again, gesturing Morad foreward. This was going to be a long walk.

"This should take us into the refugee sectors, right?"