Jedi Healer

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Jedi Healer Page 5

by Michael Reaves


  space. She mentally applied the Force to the wound again. The edges seemed

  to draw together a bit, but then gaped again.

  "Better let me take a look at that," came a voice from one side. She

  looked up, surprised. It was Lieutenant Divini, the new surgeon.

  "I can manage it," she said.

  The boy-Uli, she remembered-whose issue coverall was clotted with swamp

  mud to midthighs, stepped forward and peered at her foot. "Looks as if you

  nicked a couple of tendons. They'll need to be synostatted, plus you're

  going to need three or four staples and a der-maseal, at the least. Lot of

  nasty little microorganisms swarming around this place." He waved his hand

  to encompass the entire planet. "Better patched and sealed than infected and

  sorry, don't you think?"

  He was right, of course. Barriss nodded. "And how do you propose to do

  this?"

  He grinned. "No problem-I'm packing." He patted a small pouch on his

  belt. "Got my trusty kit right here." He gestured at a relatively dry spot

  of ground. "Be seated, m'lady."

  Barriss sat, restraining a smile, and Uli squatted nextto her in that

  relaxed, rear-on-heels position available only to those with flexible

  ankles. He opened the medpac, laid the sterile sheet out and triggered it,

  then slipped into a pair of thinskin gloves while she positioned her foot.

  The field tickled as she extended her leg through it.

  He used a flash-sterilizer on the wound, the bright strobe of actinic

  blue and the accompanying zap! indicating that the injury had been cleansed

  of bacteria and germs, then reached for a sprayer of nullicaine, "I won't

  need that," she said. "Right. I forgot."

  He put the anesthetic back in the kit. He lubed a resec-tor with

  synostat, and used a hemostat to spread the cut wide. Bending close, Barriss

  could see that the tendons leading from her toes had small cuts in the

  sheaths, revealing a pair of paler, pearly white ellipses. She concentrated

  on keeping the pain at bay. Uli dabbed synostat onto the cuts and waited. Jn

  five seconds the cuts changed color to match the uncut tendon sheaths.

  "You forgot what?" she asked.

  "I did my internship at Big Zoo, on Alderaan," he said, reaching for

  the biostapler. "I treated an injured Jedi once. Great body control-the

  ability to stop minor bleeding, shut off pain-very useful."

  He inserted the tip of the stapler into the wound and triggered it. The

  staple-which, Barriss knew, was made of a biodegradable

  memory-plastic-formed a tiny ioop, It would hold for a week or so, then be

  absorbed by her body. By then the wound would be healed.

  "How did that happen?" she asked, referring to his story. "The Jedi

  have their own healers on most of the Core worlds, including Alderaan. They

  don't usually see outside doctors."

  He dialed another staple into the applicator's tip. "One fine evening,

  a bunch of drunken hootyboos decided to take apart a cantina in downtown

  Aldara. Started a riot that boiled out into the street. The Republic Senator

  was passing by, and her flitter got caught in the melee. She had a Jedi

  protecting her. There were thirty, thirty-five rioters who took it upon

  themselves to turn her flitter onto its back. The Jedi-a Cerean, as I

  recall-ah . . . objected to this action. The mob decided to teach the Jedi a

  lesson."

  "What happened?"

  He laughed as he triggered the third staple shut. Barriss looked at his

  face, thought, Someday, when he's old enough to have laugh lines, he'll be

  stunningly handsome.

  "What happened was, four surgical interns-including me-and two

  residents spent the rest of the night reat-taching hands, feet, arms, and

  legs to the rioters. Lightsabers leave neat, surgical cuts. Every bacta tank

  in the place was fired up. The Senator wasn't hurt, but they brought her in

  to check, of course, and her bodyguard came along. He had a vibroknife wound

  on one arm, good-sized laceration, all the way to the ulna. Wasn't bleeding,

  though, and it didn't seem to be bothering him. I cleaned and stapled it for

  him."

  Barriss smiled. She wondered who the Jedi had been. Ki-Adi-Mundi was

  the only Cerean Jedi she knew, and the talents of a Jedi Master would not be

  squandered on a bodyguarding assignment these days, even for a Senator.

  Probably one of the many who died at Geonosis, she thought. We are so few

  now, so few . ..

  Uli put four staples inside, then looked at the external wound edges.

  "Even with a dermaseal, I'm thinking a couple of extra staples to close the

  skin," he said.

  She nodded. That would keep the strain off the edges of the healing cut

  when she walked.

  He began the external repair, his movements very neat and precise.

  "You do nice work, Doctor Divini."

  "Call me Uli," he said. "Doctor Divini is my father. Also my

  grandfather. And my great-grandfather. All of them still in practice

  together."

  "Disappointed them when you didn't go into the theater, did you?"

  He laughed. "A Jedi with a sense of humor. Will wonders never cease."

  After he finished, she thanked him. He stood and gave a grandiose bow,

  "Glad to be of service," he said. "It's what I do." He watched her with a

  speculative frown as she put her boot back on. "Now, an ordinary human or

  humanoid, it'd take five, six days to heal. With you ... what? Three?"

  "Two. Two and a half, at the most." Uli shook his head. "Wish we could

  bottle that." The unsettling image of beings dying in the OT arose unbidden

  in her mind, and she could see by his expression that it had in his as well.

  She changed the subject.

  "You spend much of your time slogging around in the swamp?"

  He smiled, and once again he looked about fourteen. "My mother collects

  Alderaanian flare-wings," he said. "Some of the bugs on this world look very

  similar; might be panspermic relatives. Thought I'd bag a few for her."

  Suddenly his name sounded a chord of recognition. "I saw a display

  once, in the Coruscant Xenozoology Museum. The most extensive collection of

  flare-wings in the known galaxy. Filled up three of the biggest rooms in the

  building. Presented by the renowned mudopterist, Elana Divini. Any

  relation?"

  "Mother never does things halfway." He looked at his chrono. "Gotta

  run. I'm back on duty in ten minutes."

  "Thanks again for the stitchery."

  "Thanks for the opportunity."

  After he was gone, Barriss walked around the clearing. Her foot was

  fine, and it would heal quickly. But that sudden cold wind she had felt was

  nowhere to be found now. She'd been on this hothouse world for so long she'd

  almost forgotten what cold air felt like. How could a cold breeze possibly

  be produced anywhere on Drongar, without mechanical aid? And inside a

  force-dome? It was human body-heat temperature out here within moments of

  sunrise, and it never got much cooler than that, even at night.

  More importantly, even if a chill breeze had touched her, how could she

  have allowed her concentration to lapse to the extent that she had cut

  herself with her lightsaber? The last time that had happened
, she had been

  nine years old-and it had been a nick on her wrist, nothing nearly as bad as

  this.

  No two ways about it-she had reacted like a rank amateur.

  Barriss started back to her kiosk. This was a bad sign. The longer she

  stayed on Drongar, the more she seemed to be moving away, not toward, her

  goal of becoming a Jedi Knight.

  She shivered. For a moment it seemed that she could feel that chill

  breeze again-not on her skin this time, but in her heart.

  7

  The cantina was fairly busy, it being one of the rare times when the

  spore-ridden skies were not full of medlifters, themselves full of wounded

  clone troopers. At their usual table sat Den Dhur, Klo Merit, Tolk le Trene,

  Jos Vondar, I-Five, and Barriss Offee. These were the regulars for the

  twice-weekly sabacc game. Occasionally others, like Leemoth, would sit in,

  but for the most part it was the same six. The game was a way of relaxing,

  of rebuilding themselves for the next onslaught of blood and pain. They

  could never forget about the war, but for an hour or two it would not be

  uppermost in their minds. The air coolers were working fairly well, which

  was also unusual-the filters in the refrigerating units were especially

  susceptible to spore-rot, and, because all the other Rimsoos on Drongar had

  the same problem, replacement parts were on constant back order. Even though

  spores couldn't penetrate the force-dome when it was lit, there were

  pass-throughs for incoming and outgoing vessels, plus all the local flora

  and fauna that were already there when the dome was first triggered.

  Consequently, most of the time, rooms filled with cool, clean, and dry air

  were few and far between.

  In addition to the heavenly coolness, the cantina had recently acquired

  a few other luxuries, either by accidental consignment or through the

  efforts of the new quartermaster, a Twi'lek named Nars Dojah. One was a

  de-jarik game, complete with holocreature generator, which was being played

  at one table now between two human female nurses. Another was a new

  autochiller for drinks. But the most impressive was a perky TDL-501 unipod

  waitress droid, whom Den had promptly nicknamed Tee-die, and who scooted

  adroitly around the crowded room on one wheel while balancing trays of

  drinks.

  Teedle pulled to a quick stop in front of the sabacc table and placed

  drinks before Jos, Tolk, Klo, and Den. "One Coruscant Cooler, one Bantha

  Blaster, one Alder-aanian ale, and a Johrian whiskey," she said briskly.

  "Seventeen credits, folks."

  Den waved one hand in dismissal. "On the tab."

  "Whose tab, hon? Your bill's higher'n a skyhook already." A static pop

  accompanied every sentence, sounding almost like a wad of dreamgum cracking.

  Den turned slowly and looked at Teedle. "I beg your pardon?"

  Teedle jerked a durasteel thumb toward the bar. "Mohris says he can't

  float you anymore. So you either pay up or bring a repulsor next time."

  Jos saw that the other patrons of the table, with the exception of

  I-Five, were having just as much trouble holding laughter back as he was.

  "Put his on my tab," he told Teedle. "He's covered for tonight."

  "You got it, Cap'n," the waitress droid answered, and zipped away.

  Den gave her a sour parting look, then said to Jos, "Thanks. It's hard

  to program good help these days."

  Jos was about to respond when he noticed I-Five staring after Teedle.

  The others had noticed it as well. "Anything wrong, I-Five?" Klo Merit

  asked.

  "She's beautiful," I-Five said reverently. Everyone stared. Jos put his

  cooler down so hard it splashed onto his pile of chips. "I-Five ... are you

  saying you're attracted to Teedle?"

  The droid continued to look at Teedle-then abruptly turned back to

  study his cards. "No," he said lightly.He glanced up, and Jos would have

  sworn that those immobile features had somehow contrived to look sly. "Had

  you wondering for a second, though, did I not?"

  The others burst into laughter. Jos grinned. "Why, you chrome-plated

  water heater-I oughtta-'

  "You ought to shut up and play," Tolk interrupted good-naturedly. She

  looked around. "Where's that CardShark?"

  The cantina's other new droid-and as far as Jos was concerned, the jury

  was still out on how much of an actual improvement this constituted-was an

  automated sabacc dealer, an RH7-D CardShark. A smaller, mobile version of

  the big casino automata, the droid now floated down from the ceiling to

  hover over the table via repul-sorlifts. It shuffled the deck in a blur of

  motion, then slapped the cards on the table. "Cut," it said to Jos, its

  electronic voice raspy.

  Repressing his annoyance at the droid's tone, Jos cut the cards. The

  CardShark quickly dealt two rounds with its manipulator appendages. "Bespin

  Standard," it announced. "First hand. Place your bets, gentlesirs."

  "Hey," Tolk said sharply, looking up at it. "Clean your photoreceptor

  and try again."

  "Your pardon, madam," the CardShark said crisply, "Bets, please, gen

  tie beings."

  "Not much improvement," Tolk grumbled as she checked her cards. They

  had been talking about the newest addition to the surgical team. "One

  problem with the new guy that's obvious from the start," Den observed as he

  tossed a cred chip in the pot. "He's too young to come into the cantina. So

  I guess he won't be playing sabacc anytime soon."

  "He's not that young," Barriss said. "And he's a long way from home."

  She added her bet to the hand pot, then noticed Jos, Tolk, Den, and Klo

  grinning at her. "What?"

  "For shame," Den said with mock severity. "And you a Jedi."

  "I'm shocked," Jos added. His grin grew wider at the blush that spread

  over her cheeks. It contrasted nicely with her facial tattoos.

  "I didn't mean-" she started, then glared at Den. "Mind in the gutter,

  Dhur," she said. "Again."

  The reporter shrugged. "Hard not to be when the whole planet's a

  gutter."

  "I just meant," Barriss continued, "that we should do our best to

  include him in things like this. Make him feel welcome."

  "She's right, of course," the Equani said. "Adolescence-particularly

  human adolescence-is hard to endure without support."

  "Just how old is he?" I-Five asked. "I confess that estimating age

  differences isn't something I'm extensively programmed for." ,

  "You'd make a terrible nanny droid," Tolk told him.

  "For which I thank the maker devoutly."

  "He's nineteen standard years," Klo Merit said. "Something of a

  prodigy, Fm told. Aced all his courses, graduated with the highest honors.

  Interned at-'

  "Big Zoo," Jos finished. "Hey, most of us have seen Wonder Boy work.

  He's very good."

  "I can vouch for that," Barriss said. "I fold."

  "Please shift hands, ladies," the CardShark said.

  Everyone stared at the hovering droid. "Sweet Sookie," Jos said,

  shaking his head. "Whoever dumped this one on Nars saw him coming,"

  Den looked around. "Maybe the new droids will earn their keep," he

  said. "More people in here now than I've seen in a while. And som
e of 'em I

  don't even know." He indicated a corner table, where three beings were

  engaged in intense discussion.

  Klo Merit looked, and frowned. "I recognize two of the species, though

  not the individuals. The Kubaz, of course, and the Umbaran. But the other

  I'm not familiar with."

  "She's a Falleen," Jos said. "They tend to be insular; outside of some

  high mucky-mucks on Coruscant, you don't see a lot of them offworld. Wonder

  what she's doing here."

  "Just don't get too close to her," Tolk warned him with a grin.

  Den looked puzzled. "Falleen exude pheromones," Jos explained. "Strong

  stuff, crosses most species boundaries. Usually signaled by cromatophoric

  changes in pigmentation. It's said that they can mix precursors and

  influence endocrine levels." "Thanks. It's all clear as swamp water now."

  "They can manipulate how you feel by what they sweat," Tolk told him.

  Den blinked. "They must be real charismatic in this weather."

  I-Five dropped a chip in the sabacc pot. "Raise."

  Jos looked at his cards, frowned. "I think you're bluffing, tin man."

  "And I think you're sweating, puny human."

  "Who isn't? I call."

  The players spread their cards. Jos grinned. He was holding a Commander

  of coins, a Mistress of sabers, and an Endurance of staves. He put the hand

  into the interference field broadcast by the CardShark, freezing it. "Anyone

  closer? No?. That's what I-"

  "Unless my math module has suffered severe damage," I-Five said, "I

  believe my hand beats yours."

  Jos looked down. His jaw dropped. The droid's hand consisted of an

  Idiot, a three of staves, and a two of sabers. An idiot's array. The one

  hand that beat all others, even pure sabacc.

  "That's not fair," Jos said mournfully as I-Five gathered in his

  winnings. "What does a droid need with credits anyway?"

  "Didn't I tell you?" the droid replied. "I'm off to see the Sorcerer of

  Tund to buy a heart and brain."

  Jos didn't reply. The remark had suddenly put him in mind of CT-914,

  the clone trooper whose life he had saved in the OT, only to learn later

  that the vat-grown soldier had been lost, along with his entire garrison, in

  a surprise Separatist attack. It had been Nine-one-four and, to a lesser

  degree, I-Five, who had raised Jos's consciousness to a level including the

  awareness that clones, and even, under certain circumstances, droids and

 

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