Chapter 29…
Two days in space. Normally the galaxy, with its endless array of stars and planets, was comforting—even peaceful. Void of worries or problems, the universe glided on like a speeder across an empty horizon. Nothing was there except the continuing ride.
The agony in Luke Skywalker's body was reaching a new limit. If it wasn't his disease, it was the cold. It wasn't just freezing on the Falleen vessel—it was stale. If it wasn't the cold, then it was the numbing of the Falleen on the ship. Pace's ailments. Ross' burns.
From time to time, he felt more plagued by the Force than assured by it. Everyone was suffering, and Luke couldn't aid them.
In total, ninety-five percent of the vessel's power was gone. The heat managed to stay inside, but with each passing hour, it slowly faded into the void of space. Oxygen was trickling short as well. With the lack of recycling filters working on the vessel, carbon dioxide was suffocating as the oxygen disappeared. It wouldn't be long before the hope of rescue passed.
With Luke and Matic Pace's help, the Falleen had secured the bridge and two compartments by its side. No one was interested in killing each other. They were no longer enemies, but survivors merely attempting to continue their survival. They had managed to tow out some heat blankets, and emergency lights for the ship. It didn't provide much comfort, but certainly assisted.
A few of the Falleen even asked for Luke's help to keep warm. It was a useless feat. Luke's energy was dedicated to Ross and himself. He could keep the boy warm, but that was all. Even the idea of aiding anyone else—even Pace—wasn't possible.
Therefore, Luke sat beside Ross inside one of the two compartments beside the bridge, and meditated. His concentration prevailed, but his power wasn't expanding. Instead a long, overwhelming cough spasmed up his throat. Reopening his eyes, Luke gripped a hand over his lips. With each cough, his head pounded. With each breath, he felt the chills of fever sprint through his body. Even with antibiotics and his own healing, he wasn't getting close to curing himself.
In all essence, the cold and Ross' dependency to him was slowly killing him. He needed a healing trance. He had needed one for two days. Nonetheless, he remained beside Ross and coughed instead.
From his side, there wasn't a cough, but more of a gag. Reaching out with his abilities, Luke forced his chest to relax. It took a minute…longer than he desired. The spasms stopped, however. Slowly, Luke twisted around to the right.
There, Matic Pace lay. A heat blanket cloaked his entire body. The cover didn't provide much comfort. The sweat glistened off his brow. His face, the only thing sticking out from the blanket, was a pasty green shade, masked with the red splotches of broken blood vessels. His eyes were blood shot. His expression trapped in a daze. And, there, quietly running down his lips to the floor was a gentle stream of blood. It merged to the reeking mass he had gagged up only an hour before.
The picture sent a wave of nausea to Luke's stomach. He closed his eyes. It wasn't due to mere disgust at Matic's current appearance. The commander had been swiftly declining throughout the course of the two days as if he were already decomposing. Every antibiotic Matic swallowed was as affective as sipping a cup of sugar water. Desperate, Luke had even tried putting the other man into a trance. With his abilities kept to Ross, however, the Jedi-induced coma did nothing but stop the Commander from breathing, and drain even more of Luke's powers snapping the other man out of it. It hadn't been a good mission for Matic Pace. It hadn't been a good mission for any of them.
As if reading his thoughts, the commander's eyes abruptly found the Jedi's. Even with his sickly features and poor eyesight, Matic grinned.
"You can say it," he rasped softly into the room.
Licking his lips, Luke merely shook his head. "I wasn't going to say anything."
"Oh." the commander paused as if thinking, and then muttered, "Okay. I will, then. Yuck."
Not expecting the declaration, a tiny grin formed on Luke's face. He immediately dropped it.
Matic Pace merely breathed out a faint laugh. "You try to hide it. Jedi or not, I can tell that's what you were thinking."
With that, Luke finally turned back to him. "I don't think your pain is funny—"
"Too bad. I do."
Luke sternly lowered his eyebrows. "It isn't funny, Matic. It never is."
"Perhaps not to you," the commander countered, "but, look at it from my perspective. The irony. I've spent over ten years of my life going on crazy missions…risking my butt for the thrill. Not for anyone, really—just the thrill. I love the thrill…" he trailed off, his eyes slowly shifting their daze toward the ceiling.
The room was still again. Even the Falleen on its far side were sleeping—quiet. Inhaling a breath, Luke went back to Ross. The Jedi closed his eyes—
"I can admit that," Pace's voice interrupted the silence again. "You know, like admitting if you liked killing someone during battle. It's nothing you should be proud of, but…" he stopped himself again. After another instant, he spoke, "You ever liked the adventure, Master Skywalker? The thrill of the fight?"
With that, Luke sighed. Eyes remaining closed, he came back, "When I was younger. About Ross' age. It was before I became a Jedi."
"You're not allowed to like the thrill now, are you?"
Luke shook his head.
"You ever wish you could?"
"There's nothing to like," Luke replied, and stretched out with the Force to check Ross' vitals. "Killing—death. It's all death and destruction. That's not my way. Not anymore."
"So, why do you still do this?"
Slowly, Luke opened his eyes. He turned to face the commander. "It's something that needs to be done. Quite simple, really."
"Why can't someone else handle it?"
"I don't know, Matic. It's just that…I can feel when something horrible is happening. All Jedi can. Almost like it's calling for you, telling you it needs to be fixed."
"Visions?"
"Sometimes. Other times, it's just a feeling."
"I bet it feels good when you fix it."
"Of course."
"So, you do it for the accomplishment."
Luke hesitated at that. Blinking, he deviated his eyes away, gazing at the floor by Ross' feet. Truly, he hadn't thought about it that way.
Matic Pace coached a chuckle. "It feels good to do good, Master Skywalker. No harm in it. You should be proud. You've saved a lot of people."
"Possibly, yes. Humans." Luke spoke grimly. "I don't know. I've learned to follow the Force…my feelings, but—"
"It's war."
"Fhamir didn't deserve this," Luke muttered back. "Not even Jeire. They were fair people with unfair choices. I couldn't imagine the Force would lead them to such consequences."
"Nope," Matic spoke sluggishly. "Nope—nope…a twisted Senator did that. Not your fault. Actually, I think we did pretty-good."
With that, Luke turned back to him with a tiny smirk. "There were several parts at play. I merely hope Mara and the others were able to hold up theirs."
"You miss her?" Pace abruptly questioned.
Again, Luke gawked at him, perplexed. The commander's face was practically dazed as he peered up at the ceiling. Truly, Luke didn't know just how much of the commander's facilities were still in his grasp. Nonetheless, Luke answered, "She's my wife. I always miss her when she's not with me."
"She's quite a handful…isn't she?"
Luke attempted not to smile, but the statement was so direct, his lips couldn't help but lift upwards. After a second, he finally conceded, "Always."
"She's so different from you. You know—loud. You're not loud. How did you two end up together, anyway?"
"We were friends for a long time," Luke replied as he directed the Force to Pace. The commander's breathing was rasped and imbalanced. The Jedi Master's continued, "She found a way to trust me, and I admired her spirit. Typical things."
"I wouldn't like a girl like that," Pace mumbled. "You know—loud. I can't stand the yelling. Gives me headaches."
"Well…" Luke leaned forward with his eyes intently hooked to Pace's, "she normally doesn't yell at me. She's honest, and from my experience, finding a woman who can be honest with a Jedi Master is rare."
"She nags."
Huffing out a laugh, Luke replied, "She makes me happy. In all truth, that should be explanation enough."
To Luke's surprise, the commander frowned. His eyes still hung on the ceiling, a tiny tear ran down the other man's face. It was mixed with a diluted red from his blood stained eyes. Quietly, Pace sucked in a quivering breath. He explained softly, "I have a daughter."
Luke narrowed his eyebrows. He spoke nothing.
After another second, the commander continued, "She's about five now. Lives with her mother."
"I'm sorry," was Luke's only response.
To his surprise, Matic Pace's face softened. "Well, I'm not. My wife was loud. Always yelling about this and that. A handful. Be careful, Master Skywalker. Don't turn your eyes from your wife for a second. She'll stab you right in the heart."
"I've learned my lessons for Mara long ago. But, thank you."
"Only good thing that came from that marriage was our daughter. Crisa. Isn't that name beautiful? I picked it."
"It's beautiful."
Silently, another red tear emerged from the commander's eye. "That's all I gave her. That, and some money to help her mother. Never see her anymore. What type of father does that?"
"One that doesn't think she needs him."
Pace sniffled back a breath, and nodded. "Thanks for the attempt. You're too kind, sometimes. Gets annoying."
Ignoring the comment, Luke said, "I'm sure she's fine with her mother. You were trying to help the galaxy. She'll understand one day."
"Really annoying."
With that, Luke huffed out a breath. Silently, he shook his head at the commander, and then twisted back to Ross. Pulling with the Force, he hovered both hands above the boy. The healing sticks were performing their job nicely. Preventing infection—even mending some parts of his body. It was better than what Luke was doing. Making sure Ross was breathing correctly and that he was warm enough was all the power Luke had left. He was so tired. Sleep hadn't found its way into his schedule for so long, he could hardly recall what it was like.
From his side, there was another gag—louder now. Yanking his eyes open, the Force rippled down Luke's back like a cup of cold water. He shot a look at Pace. By that point, the man had already finished. Chin covered in crimson slime, his glazed expression turned to Luke. The pile of blood was large enough to expand, reaching the edges of Luke's blanket. As stale as it was, the air still managed to blend with the fluid's stench. The Jedi Master ignored it, and kept his eyes intent on the other man.
Laying his head back down on the floor, Matic Pace went back to his original position—face aimed towards the ceiling. For a moment, Luke wondered if the other man would speak. Laugh. Cry. He didn't do any such thing, however. He merely gazed.
Licking his lips, Luke brought his attention back to Ross—
"You ever done a mercy killing?"
A dark shiver jostled up Luke's back. He spun back to Pace, and narrowed his eyes nervously at the man. It took him a moment to reply. Gently, the Jedi Master asked, "What do you mean, precisely?"
"You know…like a friend, or family. Or…," he paused, and licked at the blood on his chin, "commanding officers?"
"No."
"Oh," Pace spoke lightly, and readjusted his body underneath his covers. The room was silent. Eerie. Luke didn't go back to Ross. After another minute, Pace's calm expression crumbled. His breaths became heavy. Taking in a deep handful of air, his eyes finally twisted toward Luke. They shimmered with agony. A plea for help. Luke's heart began to pound. He raised his eyebrows at the other man, but couldn't find the will to speak.
His face serious, his eyes red, but alert, Matic Pace finally asked, "Would you mind doing one?"
Luke was already shaking his head.
The commander merely smiled. "I don't suppose I could argue that I'm dying anyway?"
"We don't know if someone's coming or not," Luke countered. "What would happen if someone found their way here, and…," he closed his mouth.
The other man maintained his grin. "You honestly think they could help me? By this point?"
"I…," Luke paused, and sank his eyes to the floor. "We don't know yet. A healer—Mara, or another Jedi could be on the ship. We just don't know."
"And, of course, she or another one of them would just leave you lying on your back, right?"
Luke kept his eyes downward. "If I asked—"
"Great. Then, I would be responsible for the death of a legendary Jedi Master."
Luke turned to him with a firmer stare. "You're exaggerating this, Matic. I can take care of myself."
"For now."
"You're making excuses."
"Of course I am. I'm coughing up a half gallon of blood every few minutes—my entire body feels like a throbbing glob of pudding. You'd make excuses, too."
Scanning his eyes around the room as if attempting to find logic dangling off one of its walls, Luke shook his head again. "I can try putting you in a healing trance again. Just to see—"
"Great, so I can choke to death on my own blood. A nasty way to go, but…"
"I'd monitor you this time. Just like Ross."
"Will you have to take some of your concentration off of Ross?"
"There's only one of me here, Matic. You know I'd have to. It wouldn't work otherwise."
"Then the answer's no. I'm not gonna let him die after all this."
Finally, Luke's jaw clenched. He aimed a glare as harsh as Palpatine's to Matic. "What makes you think I need your permission?"
Luke assumed the other man's confidence would crack—his eyes full of concern, but leeway. No, not Matic Pace. The commander was able to keep his expression still for a solid half-second before a belt of laughter shot out from his blood-covered lips. "Oh, man! Your wife is right, Master Skywalker—you pull off a devious glare about as good as a baby Taun-taun."
Luke rolled his eyes away. "Oh, shut up, Matic. I'm not playing here."
Matic stopped his chuckles; he kept his grin. "I know. You don't think I know? I see you—I see how much you hate the idea of it. But, I'd be the one dying—remember? What about what I want?"
"You don't know what you want. You're sick and impatient, and it's a simple as that."
"I know you wouldn't force me into a coma if I didn't want it. It's not your style."
Luke closed his eyes. "You're asking me to go against every moral I possess."
It was then that Matic's lips fell. He paused for a moment, blinking calmly as if chitchatting about an idle day. After another second, he nodded. "I realize that. I'm sick—not stupid. A cure couldn't help me by this point. I wouldn't expect a Jedi to do better. Don't you think I can feel it? I don't need the Force to understand my body's dying. A cure's only good if your body can recover after. Am I lying?"
With that, Luke's eyes found the floor again. "Please don't ask this—"
A hand came out of Pace's blanket. Covered in green and red, it held tightly to Luke's wrist. Quietly, Luke turned to look at the commander in the eye. The other man's was already there, shimmering with more awareness than Luke had seen in them for the past day.
"I'm suffering," Pace finally declared. His hand gripped to Luke's arm, not painfully, but with a hope. Luke frowned at him, but didn't answer. Taking in another breath, the commander added, "I'm not like Ross, Master Skywalker. I know what chances I take with each duty I perform." He paused again, and pulled Luke toward him.
Pace was weak; any attempt to force Luke wasn't possible. Nonetheless, the Jedi Master leaned over. Softly, Pace spoke into his ear, "I'm not afraid to die."
The words were so gentle, it took Luke a moment to truly grasp their meaning. Eye to eye with the other man, the declaration roamed through the Jedi Master's mind like a stranger that had lost his way. More than the words themselves, was their faith. Their sincerity. Matic Pace had meant what he had said. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't worried. He trusted his life—his death—to the Jedi. The light in him was dimming, and Luke could do nothing to stop it.
Slowly, Luke placed his hands on the other man's face. Without a word, the commander leaned back, and peered at the ceiling again. Reaching out with the Force, Luke closed his eyes, drawing out all the energy—all the strength he had remaining.
"Close your eyes, Commander Pace. Close your eyes and listen to my voice. Only my voice. There is no pain. There is no more disease. You can feel the breaths entering, one by one. One by one. Each filling your lungs, lifting your chest…"
"It's time to sleep, Matic Pace. To fall back. You're tired. You need to sleep…"
"Listen to my voice, Commander Pace. Listen to my words. There is no more pain. There are no more breaths. Don't be afraid. Allow them to pass. Allow them to go. You don't need them anymore. Matic Pace."
