[i]"Corporal, are there any medics aboard this craft? We need a few more sets of trained eyes on our injured."[/i]

As the Feeorin padawan, who had emerged as what seemed the foremost medical authority among them, directed his question at the corporal the voice of another man answered. [i]"Go get the MD droid and bring it here to help out the Jedi,"[/i] the newcomer directed, identifying himself without words as someone in charge. Just as the Feeorin's blood-stained appearance shattered many of Zak's illusions of the Jedi as invincible champions, it was likewise jarring to the young boy to go from outright massacre to... adults talking. Granted, in a contest between the two options, Zak would have opted for the latter, it was still strange to now be standing witness to casual conversation when, not minutes before, they had been in the fight of their lives.

Looking back at the LAAT, the young Nautolan felt a twinge of guilt for the fact that he wasn't doing more... except, Zak really didn't know [i]what[/i] to do. Sor-Jan was still there, passing out bandages, but that wasn't really helping anything. Bandages only helped if it was like a [i]not-bad[/i] cut. These Jedi had broken bones, blaster wounds, and problems that the youngling was quick to shut out from his mind.

They were Jedi. They were the guardians of peace. Bad things like this... weren't supposed to happen to people like them.

So, instead of going back inside of the LAAT, the young amphibian took a step outside. Cautiously, the child's large, black eyes swept between the Sector Ranger and the Jedi. No one was telling him that he wasn't supposed to be on the transport. Another step. Then a second, tip-toeing further and further away from the LAAT. Again, no one told him to come back. 

The first rule of Clan Womprat: The lack of express disapproval is implicit approval.

Zak could, if he had wanted to, asked a padawan or a knight if he could go exploring, but then someone would have the option of telling him [b]no[/b]. In contrast, the lack of a stated [i]no[/i] was the absence of evidence that he [i]couldn't[/i] go exploring. Plus, the padawans and knights had better things to do right now. Like talk with the Sector Rangers. So by not asking permission, Zak was actually just saving them time so that they could do... whatever adults did. Wait, what did adults do? Talk. That.

...and, besides, the Thisspiasian clan master was dead, so Zak didn't know who was responsible for him now.

Bare, webbed feet padding over the military deck plating, as the boy did a jaunt around the launch bay where the LAAT was now secured. His gait was staggered as his head turned every which way, so that it seemed he paid scant attention to what was in front of him or where he was going. Zak had lived at the Jedi Temple since he was three years old. Most youngling clans got off Coruscant for field trips, but the Clone Wars had kept the boy planetbound for the danger posed by the Separatist Rebellion. There had been one time, a trip to [b]Deneba[/b], before the war had begun but... he'd been six years old then. He barely remembered any of it, and hadn't been able to appreciate traveling by starcruiser because they'd been told to meditate on this, or reflect on that, or review their history notes on the Jedi Con... [i]Convo...[/i] something-or-other. Conversion? No, that wasn't the right word... 

...the big [b]Jedi meeting-thing[/b] on Deneba, whatever that was supposed to be called, when they'd regrouped there during the Krath Holy War upteenth-[i]bajillion[/i] generations ago.

A door opened nearby, the sound attracting the youngling's fickle attention, as a medical droid entered the bay. Probably the one the Sector Ranger had mentioned, but that wasn't what really had Zak's focus at the moment. Instead, he was more interested in the open door which led to somewhere other than this launch bay.