Chapter 34

Telle had been watching the battle from the runway of her Father's cruiser. She had seen the small Gladbron-78 zip past the enemy ship and wondered why it would make such a foolish attack. Then, out of nowhere, the entire enemy fleet had suddenly blown up in a fantastic display of orange fire and grey, flaming metal. The sudden victory had been completely spontaneous and unexpected, and the crew of the Liberty had simply stood in awe of the sight before them. A grin slowly appeared as it hit her. It was over. The Battle of Malastare Narrows had been won. From here, the Republic starfighters could trash the few remaining Vultures left around the Liberty. She studied the space above her, full of debris. She could spend a few minutes watching the sceptical before reporting to her fathe… the Admiral. But then she saw something else. A small dot that seemed to be falling straight towards her. Falling fast.

"Bomb!", she shouted, "Bomb! Clear the hanger now."

The word 'bomb' created panic, sending crew members and technicians running for cover. They too looked up to see the object falling towards them. Telle leapt over a pile of crates braced herself for the impending explosion. After a few seconds, she glanced up to see the 'bomb' flop awkwardly onto the deck, bouncing several times before it rolled to a stop, a few metres from where she was hiding. Cautiously, she peered over the crates, and felt her eyes widen in disbelief. Lying on the ground was the same person who had saved her life on the Reborn. The foolish young Jedi, alive. A cracked, broken helmet framed his face, and there was a frozen trail of blood dribbling from his nose. He was blue, from his face to the visible areas of his arms. Perhaps he wasn't alive, she amended. He was obviously unconscious, and probably in pain. She turned back to the men around her, peering out of their hiding places.

"Come on, people. Are you blind? We have to help him.", she yelled. She ran to the limp body and placed her hand on his throat, feeling for a pulse, and finding none. "Get me a medic here now!"

A man ran up to her, pushing through the crowd that had formed around them. She looked at him and saw the red symbol on the shoulder of his white uniform. A field medic. He quickly studied Caloc and pressed his hand against the blued wrist.

"Hydrothermia.", he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Hydro-what-ia?", Telle asked.

The field medic barely gave her a glance before rummaging through his bag. "He has no blood flow, so there is no air going into his lungs. I need to make a precise cut between the ribs and into the lung to get the airflow restarted. The tools I need are in the medical suite. I can't do it here without the tools or I may shatter the heart entirely. If he doesn't get air soon though, he will die."

"What kind of tool do you need?", Telle studied the tiny instruments set out before the man.

"I need either a precision laser or a trugatha blade.", the man answered, "It needs to be thin, strong and precise."

Telle looked at him, "And you don't have anything that could do it?"

The medic shook his head regretfully.

Annoyed, Telle shook her head and unbuttoned her sleeve, "Then looks like it's up to me."

Ignoring the confused look on the medic's face, she rolled up the long sleeve of her tunic and tensed up, focusing on the anger and excitement she still felt inside from the battle, and directed it through her body. Thoroughly stigmatised, her quills pushed out of her skin and extended about thirty centimetres from the arm. She centred it above where she supposed his lung would be located. "About there?"

The medic nodded, perplexed, "A little to the right. What are you…?"

He blanched as she stabbed down, puncturing the skin. Unlike a regular blade, the Calacran quill still had nerves, and Telle could feel her spine graze the edge of a rib, before slipping through the lung. Immediately, she slipped it out. No blood followed. She gestured at the medic, "Is that good or bad?"

The man studied the hole in the boy's chest. After a minute, he sighed dejectedly. "No, that's not …"

A massive gasp interrupted him, and they both looked down at the still form. Caloc's chest shuddered violently, and his eyes fluttered open. They blinked and flitted about, disorientated. His head began to rise, but fell back to ground with a sickening crack. The blue tone faded from his face slightly, blood rapidly seeping from the hole in the chest and soaking into his robes.

The medic smiled at the lieutenant, "He'll be fine, ma'am. Just had hydrothermia, remember. Means the blood in his body is moving slowly. We have to get him to the med bay now to warm up."

Caloc woke up on a really hard mattress. It felt like a brick, hard and unpliable. Slowly, he opened his eyes, surprised by the effort it took to pry them open. He was in a metallic room, illuminated only by bright white lights. His brain was pounding against his skull and noticed a glass of water sitting on the table beside him. A tiny groan escaped his mouth as he tried to move his arms, which was heavier than it should have been. Hands covered his own, restricting his movement, and he heard a voice, dulled and unintelligible, speak softly to him. Suddenly, the lip of the glass was at his mouth and he drank greedily from it. However, a few sips in, the glass disappeared. He groaned and shifted uncomfortably, wanting the sweet taste of water to again slither down his parched throat. The groan was rewarded with another few sips.

"You can't drink it all.", a hollow voice said. He glanced up as a face appeared above him. A young girl, probably a few years older than him. Her ears were pointed and dirty blonde hair poured over her shoulders. There was the faint, almost indistinguishable outline of quills on her forehead.

"I know you.", he croaked, but with the dry throat and pounding headache, it came out as, 'Ach ow gue.'

A quiet chuckle sounded from the girl as she pulled the cup away again. She placed a hand gently on his head, running her fingers down the braid that ran over his shoulder. "I have no idea what you just said, my friend.", she smiled, "But I'm glad to hear even that gibberish."

"Lieutenant?", he managed to croak out, finally recognising the face above him.

"Oh good.", she chuckled, "You can make sense."

"You made it, huh?", his throat managed a feeble laugh.

She chuckled, but he heard a touch of relief behind her laugh. "You're alive! Thank Scart.", her quills extended slightly, and she pushed her eyebrows together in anger, "You are such an idiot, you know. You could've killed yourself doing what you did."

"Yeah but I didn't.", painfully, the padawan managed to push himself into a sitting position, "Where am I?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're in the med bay of the Liberty, my father's ship."

He shook his head, slightly confused, "Father?"

"Yeah, Admiral Yularen.", Telle answered, "You knew that when you entered the bridge of my cruiser."

"Oh, did I?", Caloc asked, "Did I meet him? I can't remember."

Telle looked at him, worried. "You don't remember?"

Caloc shook his head, painfully.

"You saved the fleet.", Telle said, "I don't know how you did it, but your fighters attached explosive mines to every cruiser. You somehow, without a ship of any kind, managed to destroy one of the engines on the enemy flagship. Then you miraculously survived the massive explosion and crashed onto the deck of our hanger. I found you, and we helped you here."

Caloc blinked uncertainly, "I got none of that. Can you recap what you just said, but slower?"

Telle stepped back, shocked, before nodding slowly. "Alright. How much do you remember?"

Caloc frowned uncertainly as he tried to remember, "I think I remember getting you off the ship. I seem to remember a cold chill on my… everywhere. Then, nothing."

"The medic mentioned this might happen.", Telle muttered, "Memory loss."

"It's not loss.", Caloc interrupted, "I can still see everything, but I can't make sense of it. I need a… a translator."

"Then I'm your translator.", Telle grabbed his hand. "You somehow survived the explosion on my cruiser. How, I don't know."

"I slashed the window of the bridge and escaped into space.", Caloc muttered.

"Then, your pilot's report hearing you claim to have severed one of the engines from the ship.", she glanced at the bandages wrapped around his arms. "The medics found burns covering your arms consistent with ion radiation. Then, you ordered them attached explosives, mines, to the ships and somehow survived the explosion afterwards. You crashed into this ship not long after, unconscious and with no oxygen in your system. You were clinically dead."

Caloc nodded. He reached towards a table in the corner, where he saw his lightsabres rested. He pulled one towards him with the Force, making it hover in front of him. "I remember the explosion. I remember a few things. Your name is Lawell, right?"

"It's actually Chan Tellerant Lawell. I prefer Telle though. It's easier to remember.", she smiled slightly, "You saved my life, you know. You took over my cruiser while I took your starfighter. I thought you died when it blew up."

Caloc looked down at himself, noticing the massive bandages wound tightly around his chest and arms, "Well, obviously, I didn't. Now is there anything else you need help with, cause I'm meant to be leaving to continue with my mission."

"No, you're not.", Telle stated.

"I need to.", He swung his legs over the side of the mattress.

Telle shook her head, "You have several severe injuries. Didn't you notice the bandages? There were some serious blaster burns on your shoulder. Recent, but probably a few days old. That's only partially healed. You have cuts and bruises all over your body too. I assume you got in a fight with someone made of rock. They have only started closing. Plus, you're still recovering from having hydrothermia. There are third degree burns on your arms. You need to stay and rest or you could die regardless of the help we've given you. You can't even sit up properly."

"No! I need to find my Master.", Caloc sighed deeply, painfully sitting upright. "I'm going to Leogam. She is meeting her there, unless a call came for me while I was out."

Telle smiled. "This ship is one of the fastest in the Republic fleet. You droid is refuelling your hyperspace ring in the hanger. If I ask my father, we can take you to Leogam while you heal."

The padawan looked away from the girl. "I get it, I'm not in perfect condition."

"That is the understatement of the century.", Telle muttered, "Like I said, you could die if you left without healing first."

"OK", Caloc sighed, "I will take you up on your offer then. But I need to be better by the time we reach the system. I'll need a favour."

"That's fine.", Telle nodded, "Name it. You saved my life after all."

Caloc's eyes grew serious, "I need you to go to my ship and get a blue liquid vial from under the pilot's seat."

Telle looked wary at the request. "A blue vial? What's in it?"

Caloc smiled slyly, "A poison. It's Klipton Fuel."

Branol brought the Neebray, his personal ship, down to land in the landing zone on the edge of Corinth, the Capitol of Menach. He flicked the engines off and opened the cockpit, jumping out onto the volcanic rock below him. Pulling his red helmet over his head, he grabbed his blaster and slipped it into the holster on his hips. Walking casually, he made his way through the massive golden gates, his every move watched by the gold-plated soldiers. Corinth was a big city, divided into five sections by the water irrigation system, a series of moats that ran towards the city centre. What little water was on Menach was in those moats, processed by factories on the edge of the city. Further in, the buildings became the tall, multi-storey structures that held the populace. The market came after, with hundreds of fruit, vegetable and other produce stalls line the busy area, surrounded by the oily taverns and other shady establishments of the city's greedy. Branol moved towards one such building, an old structure made of blackened stone with the crude depiction of an Acklay hanging above it. The establishment's inhabitants were moving slowly, hulking brutes illuminated by the forges inside. He paused to watch them work. They may be slow, but they were powerful. Massively built, the men and women were smashing away at slabs of metal, shaping them into weapons. Swords, axes, spears and shields were taking shape as he watched. Finished products hung at the back of the shop. He grinned. The Acklay Blacksmiths, best on Menach. He walked in and every eye turned towards him.

A massive, muscular Dowutin, an ugly species of troll-like beings with stunted tusks on their chins, walked over to the bench. Massive hands slammed into the hard, wooden counter. "You aren't from around here.", he said bluntly, "We don't serve strangers."

He turned to walk back to work, but Branol removed his helmet and raised his fingers to his lips. A piercing, sharp whistle stopped the Dowutin. "Listen up. I was sent here by Caloc Tiac. I think you know him. The Tamer of Nexu."

The Dowutin turned back, laughing softly. "The Nexu Knifeman? How is he?", he chuckled, "Still alive I presume. What does he need us to do huh?"

Branol smiled, relieved at the sudden hospitality, "I need this sword… um I don't know what, but Caloc wanted this as part of my payment for a job."

"Ah, I know what he meant. Let me see your sword." He studied the blade as it was handed to him. "Ah, yes. The curved blade of the Cotellians. This will take a couple of days. Our lines are currently full with the Pit competitions starting next week, but I'll see to it personally that it is reinforced and hardened."

"Ah yes, the Pit. Heard a lot about that. Thought they were rumour. They're starting again, huh?", Branol asked. The blacksmith shook his head, indicating the matter closed. Branol shrugged. "I'll be back in a few days, then. Be seeing you."

He turned and walked out of the shop. What he didn't see however, were the eyes watching him. One pair shaded by a wide-brimmed hat, one pair hidden by a veil, and one pair watching from under a blue helmet. And all three were watching with hostile eyes.