TWENTY

Luke slept through the entire trip to the Redemption as well as 2-1B's examination. He continued to lie in slumber as the droid approached Han and Leia to give his diagnosis.

"Commander Skywalker has suffered a serious concussion, as well as various contusions, cuts, burns, and a traumatic amputation of his right hand. All but the concussion have either healed or are in the process of healing, but the buildup of scar tissue over his wrist suggests minimal medical treatment. He is also slightly dehydrated and suffering from low blood sugar. Judging by the mental state in which he was found, the amount of adrenaline in his system, and extreme fatigue, initial observations suggest torture," explained the droid.

Han closed his eyes upon hearing the news while Leia stood with fists clenched, cursing Vader. "Will he be all right?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice even.

"His physical recovery seems certain with enough rest and nourishment. A bionic prosthetic will of course be offered to compensate for the amputation. Mental and emotional recovery may take longer. Counseling is strongly recommended. He will need his friends."

Leia was unable to respond again beyond a stiff nod. "We'll be here for him."

Han held her close and nodded to the droid. "That goes double. Let us know when he wakes up, will 'ya?"

2-1B nodded. "Of course, Captain Solo."

Standing together, leaning on one another for support, Han and Leia watched Luke through the observation window. He looked so young...so fragile...so vulnerable. It was gratifying to see the peace on his face as he slept, but that did not erase what had happened.

Han swore. "Why you keepin' Vader as a prisoner?"

Leia rubbed her temples and shook her head. "To be honest, I'm not sure...but we can't just kill him."

"Why not?" Han wanted to know.

"Han, he's second in command to the Emperor himself. If anyone could predict Palpatine's next move, Vader could. Any information he could give us would be invaluable. Besides...even prisoners have rights. The Alliance doesn't execute prisoners without a trial." Leia spoke these words as if she'd learned them by rote. She personally had no use for keeping Vader alive...save a very un-diplomatic desire to repay the Dark Lord for everything he had done.

Han scoffed and crossed his arms. "Right. Even if he does talk, you can't trust anything he says."

The former princess let out a heavy sigh and opened her eyes. "We have to try, Han. At least, where he is, he can't hurt anyone else."

Clearing ones' body of toxins or other substances with the Force was difficult, but possible. Anakin had learned the trick as a Jedi and put it to good use with the heavy amounts of sedatives in his system.

Upon awakening in the brig, however, Anakin's first thoughts were of Luke. He worried about his son's recovery and tried sending his thoughts in that general direction, but found Luke still unconscious. Maybe that was for the best. He has his friends now. He'll be all right.

Anakin tried to rise...and found himself thoroughly bound at elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles, further secured to the cot by long, thick straps. All he could move was his head. He paused and sighed. This is fair. They may always see me as Darth Vader. In which case, I'm fortunate they've left me alive.

His left arm was already throbbing. Even flexing the muscles of his bicep sent waves of agony from elbow to collarbone, and he winced. His internal bio-monitors were already broadcasting the alarm of infection. He knew if his arm wasn't set and cleaned soon, he'd end up losing the rest of it. The fever and blood loss had made him weak. He wouldn't have been able to resist arrest if he'd wanted to, though of course his captors didn't know that. Hopefully the rumor's of Luke's defection wasn't affecting his treatment. At least he's resting. The man took the opportunity to look around.

Anakin had been in quite a few unsavory places in his life both as a Jedi and a Sith lord. The brig aboard the Liberty didn't even rank in the top fifty. As a matter of fact it was almost pleasant. Clean, dry, well-lit, with such amenities as a thinly padded cot, a refresher, and regularly circulating air, the tiny room would have been nice...if he wasn't bound so tightly.

Just as Anakin was making the attempt to call on the Force to ease his pain, he sensed a presence outside the door...three, actually. The door slid open, and they stepped inside.

There were two well-armed security guards and one young, freckled, redheaded medic, who carried a sizable medpac over one shoulder. The latter paused at the doorway, biting his lip and radiating nerves. "That figures. A whole ship's worth of medics and droids, and I'm the one they sent over here," he whispered under his breath. Glad I wrote up my will, he thought as he stepped inside. "Darth Vader, I presume."

Anakin cringed, wondering when he could drop his former moniker without arousing too much suspicion about Luke. "My name is Anakin. And you are?"

The medic swallowed, edging up to his charge. "Lieutenant Sal. I'm, ah...ordered to give you whatever medical care you need. Standard procedure for prisoners. If you don't cooperate, they have orders to shoot," he warned, motioning to the guards.

Anakin nodded once. "Understandable. I give you my word not to cause any problems."

That doesn't make me feel any better. Sal continued inside at a snail's pace, edging carefully up to his patient. His found his hands shaking as he pulled out a portable health scanner. "I'd...heard that Darth Vader was just a droid...a machine that couldn't be hurt or killed," he remarked nervously.

Anakin nodded again. He knew about the rumors surrounding his former life as a Sith Lord. He was feared throughout the galaxy. Sal was broadcasting it like a beacon. "As your scanners can tell you, I'm not all machine. There is still some human left."

Sal pursed his lips. Biologically, at least. 'Human' was too kind a word for this...thing. His brows knit as several injuries registered on the scan. "That blood is yours, then?" he motioned to the bandage.

"Yes." Anakin bit down on a cry as the bandage was removed. He sensed surprise as Sal examined the wound. "You didn't expect me to feel pain?"

"Well, you still have nerve endings, so..." Sal grimaced despite himself at the ugly wound. "I'm more surprised you were able to move your arm at all. It's a real mess. I don't suppose you'd tell me how this happened?"

"My arm was crushed by a large stone during a groundquake on Sheol," answered Anakin. He clenched his teeth as Sal continued probing the wound. It was a struggle not to revert to his old habit of choking someone who caused him pain.

"That would explain your prosthesis. I doubt even our techs could fix this," he remarked doubtfully. Sal's frown deepened. "Yup. It's infected, all right. Temperature, 41 Celsius? Oh, boy..." He pulled a comm from his belt. "Your Highness, this is Sal. We've got a situation here. Your prisoner is going to need a full medical team."

41? No wonder it's so warm, thought Anakin distantly. His skin was so damaged that he couldn't sweat, but the heat radiating from his body was very uncomfortable. The suit could only do so much to regulate his temperature. He heard Princess Leia's exasperation on the other end of Sal's comm.

"Lieutenant, I'm going to need a very good reason why we should expend our resources on...him," said Leia.

Sal cringed. "The short answer is without prompt attention, you're not going to have a prisoner in a few days. He has a severe compound fracture to the left humerus, resulting in a Class 2 infection. His fever has already spiked past 41."

Leia hesitated, as if weighing her options. "What kind of treatment are you talking about?"

"Surgery. We need to realign the bones in the humerus, drain, and treat the infection. We should also remove the lower prosthetic, as it's been crushed beyond use."

Anakin took the news calmly. He couldn't blame the Princess if she said no and just let him die. It was no less than he deserved. His only worry was Luke...

Meanwhile the Princess sighed heavily. When she spoke, it sounded as if she was loathing her words. "Very well. Whatever helps you keep him alive, I'll authorize it...but I'm not letting you move him until you're absolutely certain he can't hurt anyone. Knock him out, if you have to."

Sal nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He turned to Anakin with lifted brows. "You're in luck. She wants you alive. Are you going to cooperate?"

Anakin nodded. "Yes. You've nothing to fear from me; I don't intend to harm anyone."

Yeah, when ugnaughts fly. Sal shrugged and fished out an old-fashioned hypodermic with a very long needle. "Well, just to make sure, you're getting another nap." Quickly he injected the solution into Anakin's arm.

Tired as he was from infection and blood loss, the sedative worked quickly. Anakin drifted back to the world of unconsciousness.