A scowling, gray-haired man wearing a medical tunic snatched the datapad from him. "I want him under guard while I examine him."
"I'll be good!" Luke vowed, looking away from the stern physician to his new friend Piett. But the captain didn't look too friendly right now. "Honest. No guards required."
"I'll have a trooper posted outside the door," Piett told the doctor, then frowned at Luke. "Please do not attempt any more Jedi tricks or I will be forced to restrain you."
"I won't. Anyway, I can only do little tricks. I'm self-taught," he added proudly.
Piett folded his arms. "Proceed with your examination, doctor."
The doctor wore no name badge, so Luke decided to call him 'Doc'. "What're you going to do to me, Doc? I'm ticklish, y'know, so be careful."
"On the table and remove your shirt." The eyes were steel-gray and expressionless.
Luke fidgeted under that gaze. "Umm... why?" he asked, stalling. If the doctor saw the bruises, there would be questions.
"Captain," Doc said in an exasperated tone.
"Do as the doctor asks," Piett commanded.
"He didn't ask," Luke pointed out. But they continued staring at him, so he hopped onto the exam table and unbuttoned the tunic as slowly as he could, hoping they would get tired of waiting and tell him to skip it.
Like so many of his desires, it was evidently going to remain unfulfilled. He let the tunic drop around his waist and looked down, not wanting to see their expressions.
"I see you've met the Sith Lord," Doc said, chuckling unpleasantly.
"Doctor," Piett scolded, imitating the physician's earlier exasperation.
"Captain, this examination will proceed much faster if you don't interrupt. I suggest you wait outside."
"Very well." Piett hesitated when Luke sent him a horrified glance. "Don't be afraid, you'll be fine."
"I'm not afraid!" he lied stoutly.
The doctor waved his hand at Piett. "Go on, I won't kill him."
"That's reassuring," Luke mumbled, wishing Piett wouldn't leave. "I won't mind if you want to stay. Really."
The captain walked over to the door, paused to study him, then remained inside the infirmary, arms folded, watching them. Luke felt better. The doctor grumbled something inaudible.
As it turned out, Luke had been worried for no reason. He'd never had a physical, but it was simple and painless. Even the blood test didn't hurt, and he couldn't help comparing the Alderaani bloodsucker's technique with this doctor.
"You're relatively healthy," Doc finally pronounced. "Vader will love your blood sample."
Luke had no idea what that meant. "Why?"
"I'm sure he'll explain before he kills you," Doc said mildly. "You can put your shirt back on."
Quickly he thrust his arms into the tunic, managing to twist it while he wriggled. "I'm just a kid, he wouldn't kill me! I don't think."
"Kill you or keep you prisoner. Either way, the end result will be the same. You never should have let yourself be captured by the bounty hunter."
"What bounty hunter?" Luke exclaimed.
"Doctor, enough!" Piett said sternly. "If you are finished, I'll take Luke now."
"Not quite." Doc handed Luke a small packet. "Put one of these patches on your chest before retiring for the night. Be sure to use them all."
"What for?" He turned the packet over, bewildered.
"Spice withdrawal causes night terrors. These will ease the symptoms. Now get out of my sickbay." Doc waved them away.
Luke followed on Piett's heels, barely holding in questions until they were in the corridor. "Are you spying on me at night? So I had a nightmare – big deal! I don't need these patch things!" He was furious, embarrassed, and hurt. "I'm not an addict! He's a liar!" He tried to corral his emotions but that was doomed to failure. "What bounty hunter? What's he talking about? Vader caught me and Jas, not some bounty hunter! I hate it here!"
The captain sighed. "Luke, please settle down. The doctor was referring to the Falleen, but we have no indication that he was a bounty hunter."
"What about the spying part?" he asked suspiciously.
"You are monitored in your quarters," the captain conceded, sounding as though he would add more but evidently thinking better of it.
"I don't like that," Luke replied flatly. "And I'm not having withdrawal. That doctor should be punished for saying so."
"He was only interpreting your blood test," Piett said firmly.
Krit! It was so humiliating! Spice was supposed to be relaxing, just for fun. "Everybody does it," he muttered. "It's not supposed to be...addictive." Get real. You know it's bad for you, he scolded himself. You don't want to admit it, but you know.
He came to a sudden halt.
"What is it?"
"He's coming." It was like standing in the desert and feeling an approaching sandstorm throbbing beneath his boots. He couldn't see it or hear it or smell it, but he knew it was coming. He had that feeling now, only the throbbing was in his heart instead of his feet. "Vader."
"Try to be more circumspect than you have been," Piett advised.
"My thoughts exactly," and he chanted to himself: Perfect Son, Perfect Son, Perfect Son. Perfect Spice-Addicted Son.