risk of burning down her house.
One way or another, she would have to make a decision soon. Because one
thing she was certain of: time was running out.
38
Jos was in the middle of shrapnel removal from a trooper. In this case,
a bowel resection was necessary. The building's refrigeration units were
offline again, so the air was clammy and hot, and the necessity of being up
to his elbows in the trooper's pungent intestines wasn't helping things any.
It was, Jos thought, as he wrestled yet another chunk of durasteel from the
recumbent abdomen before him, mimn'yet surgery at its best. Or worst.
And yet, even as Jos worked away at his grisly task, he was smiling.
His heart seemed to have its own tiny anti-grav unit; it threatened to burst
free of his chest and float away,, up to the bands of rust and verdigris
girdling the sky. He felt like he could handle any case, repair any injury,
no matter how extensive. The reason for this sense of joy was quite simple:
He and Tolk were back together again.
Uncle Erel had been as good as his word. He had fixed that which had
been broken-in this case, Jos's heart.
He could feel her presence beside him, attentive and ready to hand him
whatever surgical tool was needed. They hadn't had a chance to speak all
that much before the incoming medlifters had driven them into the OT. Just a
whispered apology, a quick kiss, and then they had to scrub and gown up.
That was all. But it was more than enough.
He finished the resection. The trooper was stabilized and gurneyed off,
making room for another, this one's chest raddled with dried blood.
"Y'know what?" Jos said to the room in general. "I think this galaxy
would be a whole lot nicer and more pleasant place to live if we could all
just stop killing one another. Who's with me on this?"
A few chuckles and a couple of faux cheers were the response.
"You're a visionary," I-Five told him.
"Float it past Palpatine, see what he thinks," Uli suggested.
Yes, it was gallows humor, but at least it was humor. There had been
other smiles in the OT, if only for a moment.
Jos and Tolk grinned at each other through their masks. Jos felt six
meters tall and invulnerable. He was back with the woman he loved. That was
all he needed-he knew he could handle anything thrown at him now.
Something smashed into the force-dome and exploded.
Outside, the rain had stopped, and Barriss waded through puddles from
the OT to her practice spot. She had allowed herself to feel fear, worry,
and she knew that only a calm mind could allow her to regain her mental
balance.
With the lightsaber in hand, she danced. She put everything else out of
her thoughts, shut it all out, and focused entirely on her moves. Trust the
Force.
After a few minutes, she was sweaty, but doing something she had not
been able to do of late-she was not thinking, only doing.
Her spirit calmed. The Force was there. Not the bound-
less power she had felt before, but the familiar, comfortable beacon in
the darkness, the presence that had been with her since she'd been a child.
An old friend with hand outstretched, offering what Barriss sorely needed:
Peace.
And with that peace came a clarity. Not forged of durasteel, not
announced by the clarion shouts of trumpets, as it had been when she'd been
tossed in the tumultuous current of the Force, but rather a still, quiet
confidence: she could do this. She could do what she needed to do.
Barriss switched the lightsaber off and hung it at her belt.
These people had become part of her responsibility. She had the tools
to protect them, she knew, even without the bota. She was a Jedi. Maybe
still only a Padawan, but she still had abilities most people did not.
There was a spy in the camp, of that she was sure. Who was it? If she
could puzzle out him or her, or it, she could likely find out what the
coming danger was.
She had been here on Drongar long enough, and her use. of the Force was
certainly developed sufficiently that she could eliminate some people as
suspects. She was a healer, and that gave her a connection to others that
even Jedi more senior than her, who were not healers, sometimes did not
have. She had been in close proximity with many of the medical staff, and
their essences-their thoughts and feelings-were apparent to one with her
training.
There were too many people in this Rimsoo for her to personally speak
to them all and use the Force to try to read them. But she could eliminate
some here by common sense: the spy, whoever it was, wouldn't be a trooper,
was unlikely to be a droid, and had to be somebody in a posi-
tion wherein he or she could access valuable information. Somebody in
authority.
And here in Rimsoo Seven, that meant it was very probably somebody she
knew.
Barriss started toward her kiosk. She did not know who the spy was, but
perhaps, by the process of elimination, she could determine who it wasn't.
First, it had to be somebody who had been in place here before she had
arrived on this planet, because suspicious actions had already happened.
Certainly the explosion of the bota transport had taken some time to
arrange.
So that immediately removed Uli from the pool, since he had arrived
only recently.
Jos? No. She had been with him long enough to know it wasn't in him to
be a murderer.
Zan was dead, and his heart had been too pure in any event.
Colonel Vaetes? He was in a position to gather intelligence, better
than anyone else here, perhaps, but-no. He had no thoughtshield, and she
sensed no great malice in him.
Who did that leave? Den Dhur? The reporter posed as a cynic, but
clearly was not; nor did Barriss feel he was evil enough to kill people.
So. Of the people that Barriss had contact with, who would be in a
position to gather the most useful information? Who could coldly murder
people with whom he- or she-worked?
Nobody she had touched via the Force was capable of that. These were
doctors, nurses, medical techs-all of them people dedicated to saving lives.
She had felt that imperative strongly within each of them, and the Force
didn't lie.
Wait. It was true that the Force didn't lie-but it didn't always reveal
everything, either. There were two people here whom she knew, but could not
scan deeper than the surface: Tolk le Trene, the Lorrdian, who could read a
face like a child's textbook, but who kept a tight cover over her own
thoughts and emotions; and Klo Merit, the Equani minder, who also had, by
dint of assiduous training, a thoughtshield that protected his thoughts and
feelings, hiding them behind his smile.
Tolk was a lieutenant, a nurse, but it wasn't impossible for her to
gain access to privileged intelligence, especially given her face-reading
abilities. Merit, as a minder, was well positioned to do so.
But how could it be either of them? Tolk and Jos were in love; Barriss
could see that in their every gesture and glance toward each other. Cou
ld
somebody who could love another like that be capable of wholesale murder?
Yes indeed, if history was to be believed. You could love your sister
and still kill your brother. It happened all the time.
Still, Barriss did not want to believe this of Tolk. If she were a spy,
that would mean there would be at least one more death on her conscience-for
the revelation of her perfidy would surely kill Jos. If not immediately,
eventually. He would never recover from such a wound.
And Merit? The minder who healed psychic injuries, who soothed anguish
and psychological pain day in and day out? How could be possibly be the one?
Both candidates seemed impossible. And yet, as Barriss considered it
with all the calmness and dispassion at her beck, it seemed more and more
likely to be one or the other.
She suddenly recalled another fact-both Tolk and Merit had been on the
MedStar when the explosion had occurred. Tolk had come back changed. She had
withdrawn from Jos. That now seemed to be on the mend, but-what did it mean?
Had Tolk been genuinely traumatized by the disaster? Or was she wracked with
guilt?
Merit had not spoken of his feelings about the sabotage, that she was
aware of-certainly not at the sabacc games. As far as she'd been able to
tell, the big Equani had maintained the same, somewhat bland and
professional concern for his patients after his trip upstairs that he had
before. But did this indicate the callousness of a professional killer, or
simply the ability to disconnect and so avoid burnout, which was a constant
threat to a minder?
At this point, she had no proof that would convict either of them.
There would be records-if anybody else in this Rim-soo had been on the
orbiting ship when the sabotage had taken place, they'd have to be included
on the suspect list. But if not. . . ?
Tolk? Or Merit?
The more Barriss thought about it, the more it seemed to her that the
secret agent had to be one or the other. Nothing else made sense. Any killer
with a mind open to her touch would have been like a black lamp among alt
these healing folk. She couldn't have missed it.
There was, she knew, an immediate way for her to find the truth. She
stopped walking toward her kiosk, turned, and headed for the OT. A simple,
direct way. Often these were the best-
A flash of light flared overhead, followed almost instantly by a loud
boom! Barriss looked up and saw the heat-wash of an exploding artillery
round splashing against the force-dome.
They were under attack!
She ran for .the operating theater.
Den ran out of the cantina, drink still in hand, and cleared the
building just as another mortar shell impacted on the force-dome above,
filling the air with eye-smiting light and noise.
He grimaced. It looked like he wouldn't have to tell anybody about the
bota going roots-up after all. It seemed pretty obvious that word had gotten
out.
A small unit of troopers double-timed along the dome's inner perimeter,
heading for the exit, along with a couple of small vehicles hauling spare
ammunition and armor. Outside the dome, larger forces had also begun to
gather.
Den stood and sipped his Bantha Blaster thoughtfully. "Looks like my
flight's going to be delayed," he murmured.
In the OT, as the echoes of the latest explosion slowly died, Jos said,
"I'm getting really tired of this mopak." He looked up at the roof and
yelled, "Hey! We're a medical unit-we don't have anything worth blowing up
in here!"
Another explosion came, but it didn't seem to affect the OT much. A few
bedpans rattled, and the bacta tanks sloshed.
"I don't think they heard you," I-Five said.
He saw Tolk smile through her mask. It felt like sunlight. He didn't
want anything to happen to her, but if he died now, he'd do so a happy man.
He glanced up, and saw Den Dhur's face outside the viewing window of
the OT's door. The little reporter must be standing on a chair or something.
Den raised a glass full of something greenish and offered Jos a silent
toast, then drank.
Jos nodded at him, then turned back to his work. He was almost done
with this patient. Best to get him patched up, then try to figure out what
was going on.
Barriss reached the OT. She saw Den standing on a table in front of the
viewport, and moved to him. It wouldn't hurt to double-check what she
thought she already knew.
"Den, I need you to do something for me."
"Name it."
"Open your thoughts to me."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Please."
"All right. But if you see anything embarrassing, it's your own fault."
She extended the Force toward him . . .
This was a person who had risked his life to save Zan Yant's musical
instrument, a selfless act of heroism he continued to deny. She felt his
mind-sharp, agile, bright. There were dark areas in it as well, regrets and
loss, but nothing as dark as murder.
"Thank you," she said.
Another explosion rumbled over them. Den looked up, then back at her.
"Two-hundred-millimeter mortar. They can throw those at us until the local
sun burns out-won't dent the shield. But when they crank up the charged
particle spitters and the gigawatt lasers, then we'll be in trouble. And
they'll crank 'em. They're just pounding us now to get our attention, soften
us up." He paused, finished his drink, and threw the glass at the nearest
wall. It was made of something tough-it bounced, but didn't break.
"Why do you say that?" she asked. "Do you know why this is happening?"
"I've got a pretty good idea. Not that it matters now.
The bota is going bad, losing its potency. The new plants are morphing
into something that won't work as a drug anymore. I'm guessing the
Separatists figured it out and are coming to try to collect whatever's
left."
"How do you know this?"
"It's my job to know things, Barriss. I was gonna tell the gang before
I-Five and I shipped out, but ..." He shrugged and looked up. "Someday
you'll tell me what that open your mind stuff was all about, right?"
"Someday," she promised. If we survive. Then she moved down the hall
and into the OT scrub room, slipped into a surgical gown, but didn't bother
to scrub or glove. She wouldn't be getting that close to a patient.
She headed for Jos and Tolk.
"Barriss. What's twirlin'?" Jos said. She could hear the change in his
voice. Whatever his demons, they had been greatly diminished.
"I need to speak to Tolk for a moment."
Tolk raised a quizzical eyebrow.
Barriss took a deep breath. Here was a risk. If Tolk was the spy,
asking her to drop her thoughtshield would give away the fact that Barriss
suspected. She might have a weapon, and if she was the spy, she wouldn't
have any problems with using it. Barriss could protect herself-she could
reach her lightsaber under her surgical gown through the slit on the side in
a heartbeat-but it might put the others here at risk. A stray blaster bolt
could hit anybody.
/>
Another mortar round impacted upon the shield. Den was correct, the
dome would shrug it off-assuming it didn't malfunction again-but it was
nerve-wracking, to say the least. And there was no way to tell when the
attacks would escalate.
The confrontation was a risk, but Barriss felt it was a small one. And
she knew she had to take it-life was not always about safe harbors.
Sometimes you had to sail on stormy seas and risk the chance of sinking.
There was no time to wait for a more opportune moment. Who knew what other
vile plans the spy might have already put into play?
"Barriss?"
"Tolk, I need you to drop your thoughtshield and open yourself to me.
It's important."
Tolk did not hesitate. "Okay."
With that single word, Barriss knew she already had her answer. The
mind-probe merely confirmed it. What poured from Tolk was suffused with love
for Jos Vandar and her own self-respect and pride in herself as a healet. It
had nothing to do with espionage or sabotage.
That meant there was only one person left who was a reasonable suspect.
"Thank you, Tolk,"
Tolk said, "And we're doing this . . . why?"
Barriss looked at her and Jos. Decided they deserved to know-Jos,
especially.
She took a deep breath, and told them.
Klo Merit-also known as Column and Lens-looked around his office for
the final time. The artillery rounds bursting more or less harmlessly
against the protective force-dome were no threat, but once again nobody had
bothered to let him know precisely when they would begin their real attack,
and it was irritating in the extreme. He was a valuable resource to the
Separatists-why did they continue to risk him so?
Well. He would take that up with them later. For now, he had a bribed
driver standing by. He would sneak out in a supply vehicle and get away from
the Rimsoo. Once he was out of range, he would get rid of the driver, then
trigger his coded transponder. Any battle droid that came across him would
recognize him as a friendly, not an enemy, and he could make his way back
through the lines with no trouble. Hardly the same as having a parade thrown
in his honor when he arrived, but that was a spy's lot. In quietly, out
quietly, and if you did what you were supposed to do, nobody ever knew who
you really were.
"Time to go," he said out loud. He had done what needed to be done, and
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