Jedi Healer

by Michael Reaves

  did is still wrong."

  "Obviously, I see things differently." Merit spread his hands. His

  right arm was now aimed directly at Jos-all he had to do was flex his wrist.

  "So. What are you going to do, Jos ? Shoot me ?"

  "I honestly don't want to, Klo, even after what you've done. But I

  can't let you leave. Barriss went to tell Vaetes. Security will come for you

  soon."

  Merit shook his head. "But I won't be here, Jos."

  "Yes, you will."

  Only a few moments ago Merit had been sure that Jos would shoot him.

  But now, after hearing his story, the minder could sense that something had

  changed. The man's resolve was not quite as adamantine now. "You won't use

  that blaster, Jos. I know you. You're a doctor, a compassionate man. You

  save lives, you don't take them. I've seen you during times when you've been

  on your feet all day, completely exhausted, barely able to stay awake, just

  to save the life of one single clone. You can't do this. It's against

  everything you are."

  Jos was not a blasterslinger. Merit knew he could kill the man before

  he realized what was happening. But he didn't need to. Jos wouldn't fire.

  Merit started backing up toward the far door.

  "Don't do it, Klo!"

  Jos aimed the blaster at Klo.

  "Don't do it, Klo!"

  The big.Equani kept going.

  Jos remembered looking down at Zan, lying dead on the floor of the

  transport. Jos had been wounded himself, concussed, barely able to move. It

  had taken everything he had just to crawl across the deck to his friend's

  side.

  Killing Merit wouldn't bring Zan back. Revenge wouldn't bring any of

  them back. And Klo was right: Jos was a life giver, not a life taker.

  But if Klo got away, he would continue to work for the Separatists,

  continue to do harm to the Republic. How many others might die as a result

  of his hatred, of his need for vengeance? And no matter if that number was

  one or a thousand, if Jos allowed him to escape, those deaths would be his

  responsibility, too. Because he could have stopped Klo Merit. Right here.

  Right now.

  "Klo-!"

  Merit backed up another step. The rear door's proximity sensor

  registered his presence and opened the portal.

  Jos took a deep breath, aimed the blaster-

  And fired.

  There was an explosion, a crushing clap of thunder, a blinding light.

  Pain seared into him. He cried out, felt himself falling . . .

  41

  The force-dome blew.

  Ironically, it was a lightning bolt, rather than a beam, that finally

  overloaded the breakers. It was fortunate in a way, Den was to reflect

  later-though the bolt was powerful enough to stand everyone's hair, cilia,

  or sensory stalks on end, it wasn't accompanied by the really nasty stuff,

  like gamma rays. But thanks would have to come later, as well-at the moment

  Den was too busy cowering under a table in the cantina to think about much

  of anything except escape. The transports had been ferrying up patients for

  the past hour, and next in line, he knew, were civilian noncoms like

  himself. Then came the officers, and finally-assuming there were any left by

  then-the clone troops.

  That order worked just fine for him. He intended to be the first in the

  noncom line.

  I-Five was crouched beside him under the table. The droid's

  photoreceptors were dark; he'd elected to turn himself off when the play of

  elemental forces began to crest. While his shielding was usually sufficient

  to withstand electromagnetic pulses, why take a chance? He'd just gotten his

  memory back, and he didn't want to lose any of it again.

  Den flicked the master switch on the back of I-Five's neck. "Time to

  go," he said.

  "For you, maybe. The droids are scheduled to depart after the troops,

  if I recall correctly."

  Den grabbed I-Five's hand and pulled him along toward the door. The

  cantina was just about deserted; the staff and tenders were already at the

  launch pads, waiting to board. He eyed several containers of vintage wines

  and liquor that he would love to bring along, but somehow he doubted they

  qualified as essentials.

  "You're not a droid," Den said, as the two emerged from the building

  into the smoke-filled afternoon.

  "I'm not?"

  "Nope. You're a diplomatic envoy on a mission for the Jedi. Moves you

  right to the front of the line." A mortar blast less than a klick away

  showered them with dirt. "Assuming we reach the line," he added.

  "Didn't we go through this already, a few months back?"

  "Yeah. Except that last time they were just trying to move the front

  lines back so as to claim more bota. This time they want to wipe us out.

  They've got little left to lose."

  Another explosion, this one entirely too close. There was little

  attempt being made to dismantle the camp this time, Den noticed; the worker

  droids were concentrating on saving supplies and whatever viable bota was

  left.

  Den stumbled and nearly fell into a crater. Only I-Five's quick grab

  for his arm kept him upright.

  "The pad's up ahead," the droid said. "Fifteen meters, no more,"

  Den tried to respond, but suddenly there was acrid smoke everywhere,

  filling his nostrils. He coughed, struggling for clean air, and finding

  none.

  Abruptly, he felt himself being lifted. I-Five was carrying him, moving

  rapidly in long strides toward the launch pad. Den kept trying to breathe,

  and kept failing miserably.

  He's carrying me a lot easier than I carried Zan's que-tarra case, he

  thought. It was the last coherent thought he had for a while.

  42

  Look-he's coming around," Barriss's voice said. It sounded hollow, as

  if echoing from a well. Jos tried to open his eyes, but white light seared

  them.

  "Zan," he croaked. "Don't do this. Don't die . . ."

  But it was too late. Jos knew that, if he opened his eyes, he would see

  Zan's lifeless body lying there on the deck. He didn't want to see it, not

  again . . .

  "Jos." He felt gentle hands on him. "Jos, it's Barriss. Everything's

  all right. Come on back to us."

  Jos opened his eyes. The light wasn't so bad this time. He blinked and

  focused on Tolk, who grinned tearfully at him. "Where are we?"

  "Sickbay One, on MedStar," she said.

  Jos raised himself on one elbow. "Ow!" His head hurt. He touched the

  synthflesh bandage on his head. Uli pushed him gently back down. "Easy,

  hotshot. You're lucky to be alive. The roof came down on you. You've got

  another concussion."

  "Merit," Jos whispered. "What happened? Is he-?"

  "He's dead, Jos," Barriss said gently.

  Jos saw Colonel Vaetes and Admiral Kersos standing behind Tolk and

  Barriss. He said, "Merit was trying to get away. I shot him."

  Vaetes said, "You did the right thing, Jos."

  "Yes," Uncle Erel added. "You stopped a dangerous enemy agent from

  escaping, at the risk of your own life.

  "When Uli and Security and I got there, we found you unconscious, and

  Merit dead. He had a hold-out blaster up hi
s sleeve, but he didn't get the

  chance to use it. Uli patched you up on the transport." He raised his right

  hand in a slow salute. "Well done, Captain." He lowered the salute and

  added, "I'm proud of you, nephew."

  "I'm not sure ..." Jos said.

  "About what?"

  "Whether I did it because I knew he was going to cause more death and

  grief, or ..." He trailed off.

  "Because of Zan?" Tolk said.

  Jos nodded.

  "It doesn't matter. He had to be stopped. You did it. You can work out

  the rest of it later. We'll have plenty of time."

  It was true-he did it. He had killed another sentient being. Never mind

  why, never mind if there was good and proper reason for doing so. He, a

  doctor, had destroyed a life, Jos knew there would be some sleepless nights

  for him as a result of that.

  But, as Tolk had pointed out, what else could he have done?

  Jos started to shake his head in confusion, then groaned. "Easy," Uli

  said. "Give the glue a chance to set."

  "And the Rimsoo? What happened?"

  "Take a look." Den's voice came from nearby. The reporter and I-Five

  had just entered, and Den was pointing at a viewport. Tolk and Barriss

  carefully helped Jos to his feet.

  The lower quadrant of the southern continent seemed to be on fire-thick

  clouds of smoke spread in the upper atmosphere, drifting out over the

  Kondrus Sea.

  "Bye-bye, bota," Den murmured.

  Vaetes said, "The Separatists are also on the run. We managed to save

  most of our troops."

  "How?" Uli asked. "It looked like they were rolling right over us."

  "That's how," Vaetes said, pointing to another port. Uli moved to it

  and looked out. "Whoa!"

  Barriss looked through the port at the gigantic, wedge-shaped ship,

  bristling with weaponry, cruising slowly toward them. "That's a Republic

  Star Destroyer," she said. " Venator-class."

  "The Resolution. Sent here to mop up and escort us back to the Core

  systems," the admiral said. "The Battle of Drongar is over. There's nothing

  left down there to fight for now. We came out of it with about two metric

  tons of bota, which our droids are sealing in carbonite as fast as they can.

  No Intel yet on how much the Separatists got."

  "Given the intensity of their saturation bombing, I'd be surprised if

  they got much," Vaetes mused.

  "I have to lie down now," Jos said. "I'm a little tired."

  Barriss and Tolk eased him back down on the bed. It felt wonderful. He

  closed his eyes, and the various conversations around him merged into a

  faraway buzz, like the sounds of wingstingers and fire gnats on a hot

  Dron-garan night. . .

  Barriss listened to the various conversations around her with half an

  ear while she mused on the way things had turned out. Two metric tons of

  unspoiled bota seemed a small reward for all the coin paid in death and

  pain. She noticed Den watching her, a slight smile on his face, and smiled

  back.

  I-Five moved over to her. "I assume my mission to Coruscant is no

  longer the priority it was," he said, "since you're returning there as

  well."

  "True. But keep the vial of extract. It's still a good many parsecs

  from here to the Core, and much could happen."

  I-Five hesitated. "As you can imagine, I'm not usually prone to saying

  this. But something impels me-

  "Intuition?" she interrupted, with a smile.

  "Perhaps. In any case-may the Force be with you, Jedi Offee."

  She nodded in acknowledgment, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Good

  luck in your quest, I-Five. May the Force be with you, as well."

  He moved away, and she turned to look through the viewport once more.

  They were leaving orbit, she saw; already Drongar was receding, as the

  MedStar frigate, accompanied by the Resolution, moved away into

  interplanetary space.

  Her assignment was over. In a couple of standard days, if all went

  well, she would once again stand before Master Unduli in the Jedi

  Temple-this time not as a Padawan, but as a full-fledged Jedi Knight. She

  wondered what new assignments, what new adventures, awaited her after that.

  Whatever they might be, Barriss Offee knew that she would face them,

  secure in the protective embrace of the living Force.

  "Well," Den said to I-Five, "looks like your trip to Cor-uscant won't

  be costing you that much after all."

  "All it took was the destruction of half a planet. Expensive, if you

  ask me," the droid replied. "And what of you, Den Dhur? What's your

  destination?"

  Den fluttered his dewflaps thoughtfully. "I really ought to be on my

  way to Sullust. I have a very attractive fern, and her warren-clan, waiting

  there,-you know. They think highly of me on the homeworld."

  "So you've said-several times."

  Den sighed. A life of patriarchal reverence and hushed esteem. It had

  been easy to be nostalgic about his home-world when he was sweating half his

  body weight away on Drongar. But now he remembered a major reason why he'd

  left in the first place: Sullust was boring.

  "Then again, Eyar won't get there for a while yet. No hurry."

  "One could make money in the Southern Underground on Coruscant, if one

  was, say, in need of a dowry," I-Five said. "And I wouldn't mind a partner

  to keep authorities from worrying over my ownership. Galling as I find such

  a subterfuge, it's sometimes necessary."

  Den nodded. There were always easy marks to be found at the sabacc

  tables in places like the Outlander Club. No harm in making some creds while

  he thought about Eyar's offer some more . . .

  He looked up at the droid. "I-Five," he said, "I think this could be

  the beginning of a profitable relationship."

  EPILOGUE

  Later, after the others had left the room, Jos Vondar and Tolk le Trene

  held each other and watched the starfield through the viewport as the ship

  left the Drongan system. "You're sure you want to do this?" she asked.

  He nodded. "I'm sure. Are you?"

  She grinned. "Where you go, I go. Just promise me that I don't have to

  be the cook or the maid."

  "If it gets too tough, we won't stay," Jos said. "I won't make you live

  the life of a pariah. But I owe it to my family-and to you-to at least try."

  A voice came from behind them. "You'll have one family member on your

  side, at least." Surprised, Jos turned to see Great-Uncle Erel smiling at

  them from the doorway.

  "I've requested reassignment to Borellos Base on Corellia," he said.

  "If you can go back there and face this prejudice down, Jos, I can hardly do

  less."

  Jos stared incredulously. "You're serious?"

  "Absolutely. I've spent practically my entire life alone. Now that I've

  finally found some family, I'm not going to give it up."

  Tolk hugged him. "Welcome home, then, Uncle Erel."

  And, looking at the two of them, his betrothed and his uncle, Jos

  realized that, in one respect at least, all the fighting and hunting done on

  Drongar for the miracle drug of the age had been pointless. Because the real

  panacea for the troubles that plagued humanity or any other senti
ent

  species, organic, cybernetic, clone or otherwise, had already been

  discovered, millennia ago, back when sentients still peered suspiciously up

  at the stars. Call it the Force, call it love, call it what you will-Jos

  knew that it could be found, not in the swamps of a distant world, but in

  the unexplored reaches of the heart.

  The comm crackled. A voice warned them to prepare for the jump to

  hyperspace. Jos took Tolk's hand as the ship's hyperdrive activated, and

  then they hurtled away from the Rim, toward the bright center of the galaxy.