"Understood."

The droids were, as expected, coldly professional. The only point of contention--keeping his shed clothes and personal effects available for retrieval. If possible, he would hold onto all of them as a back-up, including the wealth of hidden equipment within. The droids, meanwhile, wanted the area as sterile as possible. They finally compromised on placing his clothes in a sealed case. An odd, but acceptable exchange.

The wounds were not so dire as to necessitate a full bacta treatment, but the blaster burn was still raw and vulnerable to infection. Thankfully, the droids numbed the area before cleaning and sanitizing began, but even so the feeling was unpleasant.

The scalp wound was also sprayed clean with a dilute bacta solution, and patches and bandages of various strengths and formulations were placed over his burns and deeper bruises. They'd limit his range of movement a little, but he could adapt.

He declined to submit to a blood test, prompting another round of resistance from the droids. "Deferred, pending authorization" turned out to be the phrase that finally got them to leave off. With a few more tests and tweaks, he was released to collect his new uniform and the sealed case full of his old clothes.

Imperial uniforms were always somewhat restrictive in the shoulders, even more so now that he was wearing bandages under one. But with enough adjustments and the proper posture, he looked as if he belonged in it.

While he couldn't do a thing to dye his wounds yet, the gash on his scalp had closed over already. A small application of dye would solve that, and he hid the spot under his uniform cap to soak in the false skin tone. As a bonus--it hid what a mess his hair was by now. He needed more fixative, but that would have to wait for later.

Once he emerged from the changing room, the droids immediately and unceremoniously announced that they had contacted the Admiral.

Today was going to be such a long day, wasn't it.