SUMMARY: While hiding his involvement, Luke tries to mitigate the consequences of the disaster he created.
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The smoke was acrid, smelling bitter and tasting foul on his tongue. It clung to his lashes and burned his throat. Luke retched, trying to spit out cinders, and used his forearm to wipe them off his face. He succeeded only in smudging ashes into the tears that stung his eyes. All his senses were alert and heightened, which made working much harder. Everything demanded his attention— every ominous creak of disintegrating wood, every sudden spark that glowed orange despite the slippery layer of foam retardant, every splinter that reached for him. He tore away boards, using the Force only when he was certain no one would notice. His clothes were ripped and coated with dirt and soot and other people's blood. One boot had been scorched when he'd fallen through a loose timber and a flame had flared. There was a nick in the synthskin on the back of his hand, but he couldn't stop to smooth it down. Not when there were still people alive in the ruins.
There were people still alive, weren't there?
Son, be still and you can sense them.
He stopped, panting, and tried to focus on any flickers of life. He was grateful that his father was omnipresent offering guidance, but he needed him to be quiet now.
"Luke, get down from there! It's going to collapse!"
He raised a hand in the air, both to silence Commander Narra and to command attention. "Quiet! EVERYBODY, QUIET!"
Miraculously he was obeyed, and the rescue paused like a switch had been thrown. Luke closed his eyes, concentrating, trying to listen and feel for….
There was nothing.
Nothing.
He sagged, chest caving and shoulders slumping. "There's…. That's all. We got out the survivors. There's no one left alive."
The rescue crew ignored his assertion and went back to digging. Why should they believe him? They didn't know he was a Jed… Force Adept. Despairing, he began to edge off the pile. A board split and sent him sliding down a few feet before he recovered himself.
"Careful. It's not secure," General Rieekan stated, his face pulling into a grimace.
No shit. Luke completed his climb off the heap, jumping the last distance. "There's no one else," he repeated miserably.
Narra looked up from the victim he was comforting and exchanged a glance with Rieekan. The general raised his voice. "Everyone off the debris—now! I want Hazard Control to stabilize this before we search further."
Some protests were accompanied by full-throated curses, but the rescuers obeyed. "You shouldn't have gone up there," Rieekan admonished Luke. "We're not in the habit of risking our few pilots on ground missions. We have trained rescue personnel for these kinds of situations."
Luke sighed and wiped his hands on his pants. "How's Boss— I mean, Commander Dreis? Is he okay now?"
"Apart from the broken leg, he will be, apparently thanks to you." Narra joined them after watching another injured officer carried off on a gurney. "I won't ask how you healed that impalement, and neither will anyone else."
"I guess he should've stopped talking about broken legs. It was like, you know… be careful what you wish for," Luke said, brushing aside the undeserved praise and trying to lighten the bleak mood. Judging from Narra's expression, it didn't work.
"There is another problem," Rieekan said to the commander, both of them either ignoring Luke, forgetting he was there, or not minding that he listened. "The entire medical database is gone, wiped out. Blood types, everything. That's complicating the initial treatments."
"What? How the hell did that happen? Where are the backups? They weren't stored here in the barracks— were they?"
Double shit. Luke made himself as small and inconspicuous as possible, not wanting to be exiled from this conversation but certainly not wanting to join it. He pretended to be engrossed with watching Kodra as the Zabrak climbed down from the wreckage and shot a concerned glance at Luke. He nodded reassurance.
"They shouldn't have been, but the techs can't find the backups either. It looks like some kind of virus was initiated over the last few hours."
How could they know that? Luke frowned.
"Could there be a connection between the virus and the explosion?"
"Too soon to tell, but a simple coincidence seems doubtful. Intelligence is already looking at the computers, and I'll put them on searching for a link here as soon Hazard has the debris secured. A computer virus and arson—nothing we ever expected to occur in a single act of sabotage."
"Maybe the explosion was accidental."
"We'll see." Rieekan, who evidently hadn't forgotten about Luke, addressed him. "You're certain there's no one left alive? We're still missing five officers."
He nodded, then shook his head, not sure how to react. An ensign came around carrying out a box filled with water and protein bars. "Take one," Narra ordered as he helped himself. "None of us finished breakfast. We need to keep up our strength."
Eat it. And drink the water, his dad commanded, but he didn't really need the command because he was swaying from exhaustion and emotional overload.
I did this.
You don't know that for certain, Bug.
"One of the doctors is among the missing." General Rieekan frowned. "Between that and the lost data, we're going to have a hell of a time treating medical issues for awhile."
"Yeah, you're vulnerable," Luke agreed helpfully. They looked at him. "I mean, not vulnerable. I mean… you've… we've lost some officers… but… well, at least we're safe. We won't be attacked. Unless there's a rogue Imperial who doesn't… isn't…."
"Take care of that hand and cover it," Narra said sharply. "It'll be awhile before anyone is available to repair it."
He gnawed on his lower lip. Weren't they going to thank him for…? Well. Maybe not.
"Thank you for your assistance," General Rieekan said. "Go clean up and rest."
This time he nodded and didn't speak. His fellow Rogues were listening nearby. Even Hobbie looked concerned.
"They should've let us help!" Wedge glared in the direction of the destroyed barracks. "They needed more people to dig!"
"It was unstable," Luke disagreed wearily. "What was left of the structure was too damaged and weakened. It couldn't have held much more weight."
"You did a good job," Zev said seriously, placing his hand on Luke's shoulder and guiding him away from the site. "Let's get you cleaned up and then we'll all go eat. It's been hours. Life and lunch must go on."
"For some people," he muttered bleakly. Yeah, I did a good job, all right. A thorough job.
He's right, you did well, his father soothed in his mind. Unexpected casualties often occur in war. And these were not civilians, they were military.
Yeah, but….
Look at the positive, Luke.
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to stare back over his shoulder, trying to keep his dismay invisible to the others. There's a POSITIVE?
Yes. If Andres had backups of his personal records, they're gone.
Stars. That's cold.
It's practical. At any rate, you can't be sure this is your fault. The explosion could have been a coincidence, unrelated to a gas leak from a small heating unit.
And banthas can fly. He resumed walking, and the pilots respected his silence. Dad, the entire THING is my fault, starting with my big mouth! And now— with the database gone, they can't treat the injuries that I caused— I made a mess of everything. EVERYTHING.
Luke, you're talking to the King of Messes. Wait for the results before you blame yourself. And...we may need to interfere in the investigation if it gets too close to you. I suggest that you—
No, no, no! No more interfering! Stop being such a— Could you please stop interfering! "Kritpeth, Sithspawn—"
"It'll be okay, hon." Wes stopped and embraced him. "You did everything you could."
Yeah. "I sure did." Everything. Absolutely everything. "Let go of me."
# # #
He could have stayed in the shower forever, but the water turned cold eventually. The towel— why had he never gotten his own towel, this one was thin and scratchy— snagged on his prosthetic several times. He smoothed a bandage over it and, after he redressed in a fresh jumpsuit, he slipped on one gold glove.
"Good that you can still manage a fashion statement in a crisis." Hobbie was slouched and frowning.
"It's not fashion, it's practical. The synthskin ripped." And a golden glove protected his hand every bit as well as a heavy work glove would have.
You can't help that you're instinctively fashionable, Bug.
"It's torn again?" Wes asked.
"Same place. They did a lousy patch job." When he got to the Executor, they would fix it properly. But he wasn't ready to go yet and hoped his dad didn't argue about it.
Still…maybe he should take Berrie and his favorite clothes to Yahoo like his dad instructed. Just in case.
"Let me know if you need help brushing your hair," Wes teased, then sighed. "Sorry. I can't stop thinking about Dr. Andres. He seemed like a nice guy. And those bickering majors, too. I forgot their names. The ones who were always fighting about Naboo or Alderaan or whatever. I guess they haven't been found either."
"Wilsee and Priyah. There are five missing. Well, four. I think… I think they found one." Luke moved restlessly. He wanted to eat but didn't want to pass by the wreckage of the barracks. The tomb, if they couldn't find the officers' remains. Cris Andres's remains.
It didn't seem real. If he swung by the medical office, Cris might be there, triaging patients and wearing his hideous, garish outfit. Now those awful clothes would be sent to his family.
Did he even have a family?
Bug…. Don't.
"Do you think it was an attack?"
"Maybe Luke can ask his father," Hobbie snipped.
Luke shook his head tiredly. "No, it wasn't Imperials. I mean, I don't think so. It could have been an accident." No harm in hoping, even if it was improbable.
"An accident?"
"I heard that one of the survivors said they smelled gas before the explosion," Wedge offered. "Kerosene or something like it."
"What would they be doing with gas in there?" Porkins finally spoke. "And what happened to the medical records? Seems weird, two bad things at one time."
"Bad things come in threes."
"Shut up, Klivian!" Zev snapped. "Or the third bad thing will come at you!"
"Can we— Can we go eat and not fight. I'm so tired. I want…." Luke ran out of words. I want to redo the last twelve hours.
Cheer up, his father hissed darkly. It could be worse. I want to redo the last seventeen years.
Luke coughed against his sleeve, pretending to clear ashes off the roof of his mouth, but really wanting to hide his reaction. Dad. Stop! You're not helping.
I'm trying to give you perspective. Would you prefer that I leave you to face this alone?
He shook his head. No. But I… Dad, I need your support, not your… you know, your quips.
You're calling my wisdom QUIPS? Sorry. Not.
Geez. No wonder Anakin drove the Jedi crazy. I didn't mean to take their medical database. We need to give back— NOW! It's an emergency!
All right.
"What?"
"I said, let's go." Porkins poked him with his elbow. "I'm hungry too."
"Right. Right." Distracted, he followed the others outside. Are you serious? You'll give it back?
Yes. We will remove your information and return it to the Alliance. So they will have all their data… except for yours. Does that sound like a wise, subtle move?
Honestly (and he protected this thought) it was not surprising that a Jedi had tried to kill his dad. You're being a pain in the you-know-what. Fine. It's time for a brilliant idea from yours truly.
Have at it, Son.
Don't erase my data, just change it. Delete the midichlorian count. There are probably lots of people with blood from mixed species, right? I can still be part 'unknown'. If some people remember that I said 'Energy', I'll just be… more energetic. They don't really believe in the Force anyway. And you can eliminate anything Andres might have added about my wounds healing too fast, stuff like that. Captain Gallia can do it, can't he? Then he can stick it somewhere so they find it right away!
Stick it somewhere, his father repeated and hesitated, but thankfully continued seriously. Actually, that's not a bad idea. I've sent for him.
Yay, he got praise! Great! And make it snappy!
That got a silent chuckle from his dad. Yes, 'your lordship'. Now eat a healthy meal and go to bed early.
"How long do I have to hold this door for your lordship?" Wedge asked.
"Until I go through it," Luke instructed loftily, but his few seconds of relief faded when he looked behind at the crooked, smoldering piles of wood being pushed aside by dozers. Fire crew used shovels to uncover hot spots. Rescue Team waited to be allowed access again. To look for the missing. The bodies. Actually, he supposed it was the Recovery Team, not Rescue. And what would be left to find after the dozers pulverized everything?
"Do not grieve." Kodra had approached soundlessly and paused by his side. "You did what you could. You saved many."
Luke nodded, pretending to accept gratitude that was undeserved. The lost lives were on him, but no one else could ever know. Only his father and him. Another tie that bound them together. Another Dark link.
By the time he got food and sat down, he was starving. It felt obscene to gorge himself when people who were here a few hours ago were dead because of his actions, but he scraped his plate completely clean, ate the pie, then sent Wes a look of entreaty.
Janson made a disgusted sound. "Fine, take it. I need to watch my weight anyway."
"Thanks." He made short work of the second slice. It was some kind of fruit that he hadn't seen before. Not surprising because when did he have time to explore the jungle? Never! He was too busy with sabotage and murder.
How could he think that way so easily? There really was something wrong with him. Dad… I can't tell if I'm honestly feeling bad, or if I'm making myself feel that way because I should. What if I'm faking it?
He heard the unheard sigh. Resist the temptation to over-analyze, Luke. Accept what you feel— or don't feel. There are parts of ourselves that we can't change or avoid or deny. Any changes will come naturally. We cannot force them.
That was something to think about. Or maybe he should stop thinking entirely. His brain constantly got him in trouble, and now it was dragging other people along.
They lingered over caf (and two more cups of milk for Luke because he was so thirsty he couldn't stop drinking). No one seemed to want to return to the barracks. Or maybe they, like him, didn't want to go outside and face the wreckage again. Although they had no reason to feel guilty. Finally Wedge began to rise, but sat immediately. "Here comes Narra."
Luke fixed his gaze on his plate. He was pretty sure he didn't look guilty… although he wasn't sure how to not look guilty because usually either (a) he was guilty or (b) people mistakenly assumed he was guilty based on past behavior. This time it was (a).
"I have good news, bad news, and uncertain news. Which do you want first?" Narra joined them, elbows resting on the table.
"How about bad, uncertain, and work your way up to good?" Zev suggested.
"Yeah," the commander said, and Luke snuck a quick look at his face. "Bad news: Commander Dreis is going to be out of commission for several weeks. It's not a simple break, he needs surgery on his leg. He'll have to go to another base for that."
"That sucks," Hobbie declared. "But at least he's not dead."
Luke kept his head down.
"The uncertain news: I'll be splitting my time between Rogue and Red Squads until they find a temporary replacement. If they find one. How do you feel about that?"
A dozen thoughts raced through Luke's head beginning with Yay freedom! and ending with… well, pretty much ending there.
"That will keep you busy," Janson commented diplomatically, and the others nodded.
"I can see it breaks your hearts. Senesca, you're in command of Rogues when I'm not available."
Zev nodded. His eyes darted to a few others who were smirking. Luke looked at him and nodded solemnly, finally daring to talk. "So what's the good news? Or was that it? About Zev, I mean."
"The good news is that the medical database has been recovered."
Wow! Dad! You did it! "That's great," he enthused. "How did they find it? Where was it?"
Narra shook his head. "I know very little about the mysteries of data storage systems. And apparently neither do the professionals. The lead geek speculated that the explosion jarred loose some contacts. Or severed them, I don't know. Anyway, it turned out to be right where it was supposed to be."
"That sounds reasonable," Luke said quickly, before deciding that he should add, "although I don't know much about that stuff either." No, it was Captain Gallia who was the expert.
"Also…." Narra sighed, looking like he wasn't done imparting Bad News. "We've only recovered one body so far."
"Whose?" Wedge asked immediately.
"Identification was not possible. Now that they have the database back, Med can use DNA comparisons."
Luke flinched. "So there are still four officers missing."
"Yes. One of them may be Dr. Andres." The commander's lips compressed. "I'm sorry, Luke. I know you were establishing a bond with him."
Is THAT what I was doing? "I guess. Sort of. Although he wasn't really—"
Bug, please, please do not have an episode of verbal diarrhea that puts you in a questionable position.
"—a friend yet. I was just getting to know him." Subdued, he stared at his plate again. He'd eaten every crumb and swiped off every smear of gravy. If he could lick it, it wouldn't even need to be washed.
"Any more indication of the cause?" Zev asked after a moment of silence. "Someone said they smelled gas."
The commander shook his head. "Body recovery comes first, then the investigation. Maybe we'll know more by tomorrow. In the meanwhile, the entire base is on high alert so act accordingly. Be aware and be cautious. If this was sabotage, it may not be over." Narra stood and stretched with a groan, arching his back.
"Are you hurt?" he asked timidly. Every injury from today was going to make him feel guilty. Guiltier.
"No, Luke, just old and weary. All right, I'm heading over to Red barracks to see how they're doing and maybe catch a nap. I'll be pulling duty tonight. Senesca, they're all yours."
After the commander left, Janson smiled at Zev. "All yours," he repeated. "To do with as you will."
"No special favors," Zev said sharply.
Porkins groaned. "There's a new sheriff in town." When they looked at him, he added: "What? I heard it on a show. Fits the situation, doesn't it?"
"I don't know why Narra didn't leave me in charge," Hobbie mumbled.
No one bothered to answer. Luke rubbed his face. "I'm going to see how they're doing. If they've found anyone else. Maybe I can help."
"The only place you're going is back to the barracks," Zev said. "You're going to rest and preferably go to bed. You've done enough today."
You don't know how true that is, Luke thought, and realized how many more of his thoughts he was going to have to keep to himself after this fiasco. "Okay," he agreed, because he was too exhausted to argue. His brain was blank. But the idea of sleep was terrifying, because he knew what he would wake up to in the morning— deaths that were his responsibility. And injuries— he hadn't even thought to ask how bad the injuries were!
You'll get used to it, his father said flatly, though with a measure of sympathy. It's part of military life.
No, not this time. This time was because Luke Skywalker hurt others to protect himself from his own big mouth.
To protect you, me, and the entire galaxy.
Yeah? Well, I'm getting kinda tired of carrying the galaxy on my back! (He wanted to say 'you got us into this galactic intrigue in the first place' but figured his dad didn't need reminding.) I just want to get your surgeries done and for us to defeat Sidious. And then everything will go back to normal.
Whatever normal is, came the thought from both of them.
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