Jedi Healer

by Michael Reaves

  fast and run for it. He didn't expect to meet anybody, however, and as he

  reached the ship's lock, he began a sigh of relief.

  "Hey, is that you, Bogan?" somebody yelled from behind.

  An icy shard of fear stabbed Kaird, killing the relief stillborn. He

  took a quick breath, and turned just enough to allow a glimpse of the mask.

  He waved at the speaker, who was thirty meters away. Then he quickly entered

  the access code on the keypad.

  "Don't hit the walls on your way out!" the speaker called, ending in a

  laugh.

  Kaird made a hand gesture of questionable taste, and the voice laughed

  again, louder.

  The hatch unsealed and opened. Kaird moved hurriedly up the steps. Once

  inside the ship, he dropped the case of bota and hurried to the cockpit

  area. He punched in the security codes, powered up the mains, and began the

  launch sequence checks.

  Flight Control came on the comm: "A-one, this is Flight Control; we

  show you powering up. That you, Lieutenant Bogan?"

  Here was another tricky part, but one that Kaird had planned no less

  carefully than the rest. He could imitate Bogan's voice-humans were easy,

  with their limited vocal cord system-but doing a mask good enough to fool

  somebody .looking at you on a ship's holocam was problematic at best. On

  Coruscant, with a face-mold and a good skin artist to do the hair and

  coloring-and a few hours of makeup time-it would be no problem, but here in

  the wilds Kaird didn't have that option, and they would want to see his

  face. Bogan's face, rather.

  He quickly loaded a chip and tapped a control. The image of the human

  pilot, wearing the air mask, appeared on the cornm's monitor, fuzzing in and

  out.

  "Yeah, it's me," Kaird said in Bogan's voice. "I-kark! The cam's

  messing up." With that, he cut the transmitter off. It had only been on a

  couple of seconds, just long enough so Flight Control could glimpse a human

  face. That, along with Bogan's voice, should be enough to convince them that

  it was who they thought it was.

  "You're just gonna have to imagine my handsome face, Flight."

  The controller chuckled; a human female, Kaird realized. "I've seen

  nerf herders who were more handsome. In fact, I've seen nerfs who were." The

  voice grew more serious. "What are you doing, Bogan? We don't show any

  flight plans for the admiral today."

  "I need practice time," Kaird replied as Bogan, "if I want to fly

  commercial liners after I get out of the navy. I'll only be gone a couple

  hours. A few loops, a couple of rolls, I get to log it, everybody's happy."

  "And the admiral doesn't mind?"

  "He said he wasn't going anywhere. I think he was headed for the soak

  tubs after I saw him, but you can call him and clear it, if you want."

  "Get the admiral out of a soak tub? Yeah, right. Give me the airlock

  codes."

  Kaird grinned his raptor's grin and rattled off the code.

  "Check," Flight replied. "Cleared to vacuum chamber."

  The doors between the pressurized chamber and the airlock opened. A

  slight breeze stirred bits of trash as Kaird rolled the ship into the

  gigantic lock. The massive doors shut behind him, a warning siren hooted,

  and a red light flashed. The comm's autovox said, "Warning, warning-hold

  depressurizing. All unprotected personnel must clear the chamber

  immediately. Warning, warning-'

  The voxbox repeated its alert drone until the siren stopped and the red

  light went out. After another moment the outer doors opened, revealing the

  blackness of space, with its pinpricks of distant stars.

  "A-one, give me your launch codes."

  Kaird complied.

  "A-one, you are cleared for launch. Try not to hit the walls on the way

  out."

  Kaird grinned again, and reached for the controls. The ship began to

  ease out of the lock. He was leaving Dron-gar, by the Cosmic Egg, and

  bearing valuable gifts for his masters-gifts that would soon free him, and

  let him go home at long last. What could be better?

  34

  I here wasn't much to pack-Den's years as a field correspondent had

  taught him how to live lightly. It wasn't down to the point where all he

  needed was his dewflap brush, but it was pretty close. His multiclimate

  clothes were all compressible fabrics, his voxwriter not much bigger than

  his thumb. Two pieces of luggage, both small, were all he needed. Load it

  up, move it out. He'd done it a thousand times. At least.

  The announcer chimed.

  "Come in."

  The entry panel slid open, revealing I-Five.

  "Just the droid I was looking for," Den said.

  I-Five's left photoreceptor made the droid equivalent of a raised

  eyebrow. He looked around. "You seem to be packed and ready for

  departure-though it's somewhat difficult to tell, given the general . . .

  ambience."

  Den grinned. "I'm not the best housekeeper on this planet," he

  admitted. "Probably not on most of the known planets. Or, I expect, the

  unknown ones."

  "Oh, it's not that bad," the droid said. "Give me thirty minutes and a

  flamethrower attachment, and-"

  "You know, there's still one more transport lifting soon, with the last

  of the entertainers. I'm sure a droid who does stand-up would be high on

  their list of needs."

  "No doubt. And, as it happens, I will be on the next shuttle after

  that."

  Den nodded. He'd expected as much. "You have your mission from Barriss,

  then?"

  "Yes. Information-eyes-only, very hush-hush-and a vial that I must also

  deliver." I-Five extended a hand. "I came to say good-bye."

  Den did not take the droid's hand. "No need. I'm coming with you."

  Another subtle shift of luminosity, this one registering surprise.

  "Indeed? To what do I owe this honor?"

  "To the fact that, very soon, this place will be overrun with

  Separatist droids, meres, and anything else they've got that's smart enough

  to move and shoot at the same time." Den explained briefly about the bota

  mutation, and what the likely outcome would be once this became common

  knowledge.

  "The mutation comes as no surprise," I-Five said. "This entire planet

  is one huge transgenic experiment. Given all the cross-pollination of the

  spores and the un-differentiated potential of the local DNA, I'm only

  surprised it remained stable for this long."

  "Well, stability is a word that won't be bandied about too much in the

  next few days. Which is why I'm headed back to Coruscant." Den shrugged. " I

  thought maybe we could travel together."

  "I have no objection. Though I doubt most of the other droids will

  speak to me if I'm accompanied by an organic."

  "Y'know, you might want to prune back that prickly side of your

  programming just a little. Otherwise, someone's likely to do it for you-with

  a vibroknife. Very few people like a smart-mouthed droid." - "As you might

  imagine, you're by no means the first person to tell me this. However, I

  find it adds a bit of piquancy to an otherwise bland existence. And I can

  take care of myself, thank you."

  Den looked at his
chrono. "Just about nine hours before the shuttle

  lifts. Any plans for the interim?"

  "It would seem appropriate for me to spend it in the operating theater,

  aiding Jos and the others. That was, after all, my primary assignment."

  "Myself, I have another destination in mind. But even though we'll be

  spending our last hours here in two separate locations, there is one thing

  that both places have in common," Den said with a grin.

  "Alcohol." The droid paused. "Are you planning to tell anybody about

  your knowledge of the bota mutation?"

  Den regarded I-Five. No doubt about it, he was as sharp as a

  lightsaber, this one. "Officially-no. And if I put fire gnats into any ears

  among the staff, that wouldn't do much good, since they aren't in a position

  to do anything about it except worry."

  "I sense an unspoken addendum."

  "Yeah, well, some of the card players and I have gotten friendly, and

  I'm thinking maybe I don't want them to be caught from behind."

  "But if, as you say, they can't affect the situation, why say

  anything?"

  Den shrugged. "Wouldn't you want to know?"

  "Of course. The more data one has, the better equipped one is to

  function."

  "There you go." Den started for the door. "I'm going to have a drink or

  six, then tell my friends the news. See you at the pad."

  35

  Barriss tried her communicator again. Whatever conditions had blocked

  her attempts to establish a connection with the Jedi Temple had been

  constant for days, and she didn't want to get her hopes up too high. She

  remembered something Jos had said one night while playing sabacc, quoting a

  homily he had gotten in a restaurant once: "Minimize expectations to avoid

  being disappointed."

  There's a realistic philosophy, she thought.

  Then, perhaps because she wasn't expecting it, her comm went through.

  The holoproj flowered at one-sixth scale, and Barriss found herself looking

  at the image of Master Luminara Unduli. She felt a surge of joy at the

  sight.

  "Master!"

  "Who else? You did call me, didn't you?"

  Barriss grinned, anticipating the moment of sharing this great and

  terrible secret. Astonishing how mental and spiritual burdens could be made

  lighter by dividing them up, just as physical loads could be.

  "Yes." Abruptly, Barriss felt as if her mind was too full and jumbled

  to speak. She hesitated. She had to sort it out, had to make sure she was

  presenting it properly. This secret had the potential to affect the entire

  galaxy, after all .

  Before she could speak, Luminara said, "Barriss, what is the situation

  there? Are you all right?"

  "Oh, sorry. I'm just trying to figure out where to begin. There's, uh,

  there's a lot going on here."

  "Pick a starting point." Was that the slightest hint of asperity in her

  Master's voice, or merely a glitch in the transmission? The latter, she

  hoped. "You can go forward or back from there," Master Unduli continued.

  Barriss took a deep breath. "Very well. I've discovered something

  remarkable about the bota ..."

  Quickly she laid out her experiences, telling her Master the story,

  trying to keep it coherent. Trying also to convey, not just what had

  happened, but also how she had felt, the sense of total connection to the

  Force, the wonder of it all.

  Master Unduli listened without interrupting. Now and then she would nod

  encouragingly, but she remained silent, not prompting Barriss whenever the

  latter paused to collect her thoughts.

  "-and that's pretty much all there is to tell," Barriss finished.

  "Well, except that a protocol droid called I-Five will likely show up there

  eventually with an encoded message covering what I've just said. I was

  worried that something might happen to keep me from passing this along, I've

  been unable to reach you via comlink, and I-Five needed a reason to get to

  Coruscant anyway, so we joined forces. He's a most unusual droid, and he has

  a connection to the Temple-he once belonged to the father of one of our

  Padawans. You may find him useful." She realized that she was babbling

  somewhat, and stopped.

  Master Unduli stood quietly for another moment. Then she said, "You

  feel certain that what you experienced was not some kind of ... illusion?"

  "It was no illusion, Master," Barriss said. "It was a joining with the

  Force more powerful than I could ever imagine possible. It was real. Of

  that, I am as sure as I am of speaking to you now," More so, she wanted to

  add, but didn't.

  Her Master nodded. "An extraordinary event." After a moment, she added,

  "Master Yoda and several others on the Council mentioned recently that they

  sensed-not a disturbance, exactly, more like a surge-in the Force. Perhaps

  this is the explanation."

  Barriss waited a moment, but the other woman remained silently

  preoccupied. At last the Padawan said, "I feel great danger for these

  people, Master. As I told you, the 'accident' aboard the MedStar was no

  accident. Whoever is responsible will strike again, and I also feel-no, I

  know-that, using this new connection, I can prevent it. I have not the least

  doubt of that. The power is staggering. Even now, I feel the echoes of it

  reverberating within me.

  "Why have you not already used it toward this end, then?" Master Unduli

  asked.

  "Because I'm not qualified-I don't have the experience or the wisdom to

  make this kind of decision, or to take this kind of action." Barriss spread

  her hands. "Master, what should I do?"

  The small hologram of her Master stood silent for a moment. Her

  expression, given the image's size and resolution, was hard to fathom. Then

  she said, "This is not an easy question to answer, Barriss. You are there, I

  am here, and I cannot know your situation as you know it. But, taking that

  into account, I think that you should-

  The hologram wavered, blinked, and scan lines ran up it in a pulsing

  wave. Master Unduli's voice warbled, cutting in and out: "-try-find-know the

  truth, because-" Then the image vanished and the voice stopped.

  No Barriss wanted to scream. Come back!

  She tapped the controls on the unit, her movements just short of

  frantic, but it was no use. The connection was sundered. Gone. ' Gone.

  Barriss ran her fingers through her hair distractedly. The weight of

  responsibility she had thought she was about to have lifted, or at least

  partitioned, settled down on her again, even heavier than before.

  What was she supposed to do? Had any Padawan ever been given such a

  thorny problem to solve?

  There was but one bright spot, and that one wasn't as bright as all

  that-at least the Jedi now knew the situation with regard to the bota.

  Whatever happened here on Drongar, they would be able to consider and make a

  decision, backed by the wisest and most adept of the Jedi Council. That

  didn't make her personal choice any easier, of course, but it was something.

  And, she reminded herself, eventually l-Five will get there with the

  full story, and the vial full of extract. Surely I have fulfilled whatever />
  my obligation is regarding the Council's knowledge of this. It isn't just on

  me anymore.

  But the weight she felt seemed no less. Indeed, before it had seemed

  like a yoke of wood; now, like one of stone.

  She wondered how much longer she could stand beneath it.

  36

  Once he had cleared the last of the picket ships, Kaird felt a definite

  sense of relief. Yes, he was a professional, and facing death was ever a

  part of his life. He wasn't afraid of the return to the Egg, Sooner or

  later, all must make that journey, and he had put the trip off many times

  more than most. Still, being in deep space and about to make the jump to

  lightspeed meant that he had once again survived, and feeling a certain

  pride in so doing was permissible.

  He was going back to Coruscant, bearing an extremely valuable gift for

  his chosen flock. There was a sense of accomplishment in that, as well. He

  had made the best of a bad situation, had managed to salvage something out

  of what had initially seemed to be complete disaster. Truly, it was as the

  old saying put it: there was no carrion so bad but that it offered some

  scavenger sustenance.

  With the ship on automatic pilot, Kaird refreshed himself, ate a meal

  of synthesized bool grubs, and went through a short series of martial

  exercises. Feeling less stale with his muscles warm and his breath deepened,

  he went back to the entry lock in which he had left the faux case with its

  precious cargo. He would rather have it where he could see it, even though

  he was alone on the ship. The fewer things left to chance, the fewer things

  that could go wrong.

  The case was where he had left it. It was heavy-not so much that he

  couldn't lift and haul it, but enough so that the set of wheels on it was

  useful. Kaird rolled it back toward the control cabin.

  The ship boasted a series of pressure doors down the main corridor. In

  the event of a hull breach, these doors would quickly and automatically seal

  to maintain integrity in the separate compartments. Each had a slightly

  raised threshold to better effect an airtight seal. The ridges were only a

  couple of centimeters high, but he had to remember to step over them to

  avoid tripping when the A-Grav field was on. Kaird did this almost

  unconsciously after years of space travel. Luggage makers were well aware of