All previous disclaimers apply...

Dark Times: Chapter One

Network

Part two

He didn't understand, too frightened, too sore, his body shaking violently. What was happening was slow and surreal like a dream, like he was watching from far away and apart from it. A soldier near him removed his helmet, revealing a shock of red hair, and reached into a locker above him and took out a bag. Another trooper, the one who had spoken to him, was freeing the binders from his wrists and asking a question.

"What?" Luke managed to say. He massaged his wrists. Even after only a few moments the restraints had chafed his skin.

"Where are you injured?" the man repeated.

"I...I'm not... Uh...my ankle, I think. Ribs...and my shoulder..." Luke studied the white of the helmet, the black of the eyes, trying to assimilate events. As he spoke some clarity began to form in his mind. "Who are you?"

"Here," the red headed soldier said, squatting down. "Let me see this ankle." He withdrew a pair of cutters from the bag and lifted Luke's leg. "I'm going to cut the boot off. It'll hurt," he warned.

"S'okay," Luke told him, immediately bracing himself, as the man began to cut the bloodied footwear. He looked back to the soldier beside him, looking for an answer to his question.

"We're the Network," he was told, again.

"Resistance?" Luke asked, hopefully, recalling the mission briefing and that the information passed to Alliance Intelligence came from Resistance operatives. Then he had to bite back a cry of pain as the boot was slipped off his foot, followed by his flight suit. His sock, crimson with blood, was also removed and the cuffs of his pants rolled up over the wound. Luke glanced away, feeling nauseous, faint. The tingle in his legs had become stronger, but his ankle didn't feel quite as sore now thathis boot was off.

"Resistance?" he repeated hoarsely, trying to keep his attention focused away from the ministrations of the medic.

A nod was his reply.

Luke grimaced, heaved in a breath, as the medic finished cleaning the wound. "How did you know where to find me?"

"We listened into the battle transmissions," the man informed him. "Are you going to be sick?" he asked, a little anxiously. Luke shook his head unconvincingly, and the soldier continued answering his question. "We have an operative in communications who relayed us your position. We mobilised with the rest of the squads and made sure we were the closest to you. Unfortunately we picked up a few uninvited guests for the journey back."

He nodded, indicating the dead.

Luke paused as he considered the man's words. "But, how could you? Unless... You're Imperials!" He was surprised, incredulous, a little confused and still sick.

There was laughter from the soldiers around him. Another stood up and started to remove his armour, revealing civilian clothes underneath.

"Some of us have positions in the military, yes. But most are natives who take exception to the Imperial presence."

"You?"

There was a smile in the reply. "That would be telling."

The medic looked up. "Bleeding's stopped. I'll field dress this for you just now. We'll have a doc check you out at the safe house."

"Thanks," Luke offered as the vehicle began to slow. Relieved, overwhelmed at the turn of events, he allowed a smile to curl his lips.

A tinny voice sounded over the tannoy. "We're nearly there. No pursuit and scanners show no other activity, but it won't stay that way for long."

The trooper beside him gestured to the tall, slim and dark headed man now fully dressed in civilian clothes. His face was full, rounded and his hazel eyes danced in the artificial lights of the carrier. "This is Taln. He'll take you to the safe house and stay with you. Follow his directions and you'll be safe enough."

"I'm finished here," the medic announced standing. "The doc'll fix your other ills. Just keep your arm up, like this," he said strapping Luke's limb with a make shift sling. "That'll lessen the strain."

"Pain killers?" Luke asked, wondering how he was going to be able move at all. His now supported and strapped up ankle felt a little better, but his shoulder and ribs were a constant ache punctuated by lancing pain whenever he moved. His lower back didn't feel much healthier.

"Sorry, kid. Those come from the doc," he was told with a smile.

"Come on," Taln instructed him, helping him up and placing his left arm around Luke's waist. Luke placed his right arm across the man's shoulder, using him as support.

The hatch opened and was Luke carried out into the night. They were in a suburban street, the dark softened by lights from windows of homes and by the glow of a huge fire somewhere to the west. Muted alarms klaxxoned in the distance.

"The weapons plant?" Luke asked as they moved off.

"Yeah, you hit it pretty hard. Knocked out the research lab, ignited the explosives warehouse. You have a lot of people pissed at you. You're lucky we found you first."

Taln glanced around nervously. "We need get off this street. Patrols will be increased when you don't arrive at the prison and they realise what's happened. This way."

Taln lead him down a small alley to a large town house. There was a side door slightly ajar which Taln pushed open with his hips and, with effort, he helped Luke down a steep set of stairs. Going through another door, they entered a small dark, stone corridor. Taln produced a small flashlight shining it at the floor, which sloped down as they walked.

"Okay?" Taln asked.

"Any... other choice?" Luke gasped, clinging tightly to the man's jacket. He was breathing heavy with exertion and pain.

"No."

They turned a corner, walking on and down. More stairs, steep and narrow. If Luke had been fit enough he would have marvelled at the number of twists and turns they took, the steps they went down, then up, the contrast of the tunnels' walls, roughly cut stone, ancient brick work, packed dirt. The whole place smelled musty and dry.

"Where... are we?"

"Under the city."

More turns, then Luke found himself being carried through another doorway and into a warm hall. A Twi'lek female appeared from another entrance and beckoned them over then turned away assuming they would follow. Luke found himself being manoeuvred down yet another flight of stairs.

The female turned. "In here."

The room they entered was small and sparse, furnished only by washing facilities, a straight-backed chair, a small bureau and a cot - which Luke thought looked incredibly inviting. The adrenaline caused by the last few hours seemed to be wearing off and he was left feeling unbelievably tired and intensely sore. He wished to do nothing more than to lie down and sleep. Taln sat him on the cot then turned to the woman. "Where's the doc?"

"He'll be here when he can," she told him, eyeing Luke with some suspicion. Luke met her gaze. She was middle aged, rotund, and dressed in a loose fitting dress and apron, her tentacles hanging over her shoulders. "There are a lot of casualties at the factory. He's needed elsewhere."

She turned to the other man. "I don't like this, Taln. Not here. The master is in residence."

"Last place they'll look for him then. That's why we chose it," Taln informed her. "It's only for a few days."

"By the looks of him it'll be more than a few days! And all our lives should he be found."

Luke groaned, leaning back against the wall, head throbbing, body aching. "Look, you owe me nothing. I know. I don't want to be any trouble. Just let... me sleep and then I'll leave."

"Ah-uh," was the laughed reply. "And where," she asked as she helped Luke turn and lie down. His head sank, thankfully, into the pillow, "... would you go, young man? And how would you get there?" She didn't wait for a reply. "Like it or not you are trouble."

Luke closed his eyes with relief, then opened them with a start. "Artoo!"

"Artoo?" Taln questioned, frowning.

Luke struggled to sit back up, but the woman placed her hand lightly on his chest. "No, you don't."

"My droid," he explained concerned, but exhausted. "He's still out there... I think. I hope. If the Empire gets a hold of him..."

"Droids don't concern us, Lieutenant-Commander," Taln told him. "Snatching you from the Imps was risky enough with out going after a droid."

"No," Luke protested, tiredly. The cot was feeling comfortable. His injuries thrummed, throbbing, telling him to lie still. But this was Artoo, he couldn't leave the little droid to the Imperials. "You don't understand. He knows so much about the Alliance. I have to get him back."

Taln blew a sigh, exchanging a glance with the Twi'lek. "I'll make some enquiries if I can. I'm not making any promises, and no-one," he emphasised, "is going back out that way to check. There'll be troopers all over place looking through the remains of your ship."

It was enough for now. Luke knew he could not ask for any more from these people; they had already risked their lives to rescue and hide him. Besides, he told himself, Artoo was independent, resilient, and more than likely in better shape than he was. "Thank you," he whispered, finally closing his eyes, succumbing to the fatigue of his body, craving sleep despite his pain. He was unconscious almost immediately.

The female turned to Taln, whispering fiercely, "This is idiotic! Smuggling out dissidents, hiding our own operatives, passing on information to the Alliance is dangerous enough. But this..." She gestured at the form on the bed. "How do we get him off world? The ports will be closed, the shipping lanes shut down. Every home in the city will be searched!"

"Isla," Taln spoke gently, softly. He was tired and didn't want to argue. "You're saying we should have left him to them? The boy's an officer, he may know who it was that passed the information to the Alliance about the plant's activities. If he cracked under pressure and told them, it would lead them closer to us all. You know Dade! He'll do whatever it takes to protect the Network. So we protect the boy, to protect the Network."

Isla moved toward the door, brushing her hand down her left tentacle in an anxious manner. "So now he knows more about the Network. Smart thinking! A blaster bolt to the head would have protected the Network better than this!"

"You don't mean that."

"No, probably not," she wilted some and shrugged, her anger waning, but her fear remained. "But with the General home, this just seems like madness." She shook her head. "I'll bring the Doctor down when he arrives." The door closed behind her.

Taln sat on the chair, watching Luke, waiting for the doctor.

Artoo Detoo had shut down at the first sounds of approaching vehicles. He remained shut down as stormtroopers freed him from the droid socket of the X-Wing, and loaded him into a transporter. He stayed quiet and unresponsive during the journey, and while he was carried and dumped at a tech station. All verbal commands to reactivate were ignored, and when the droid technician working on him hooked him up to the main computer and attempted a re-boot, Artoo steadfastly remained silent and inactive.

"Rebel, junk," the technician swore, slapping his hand on the blue dome in frustration. "This may take a while."

The sound of soft rapping penetrated Luke's restless slumber. He had initially fallen into a deep sleep, exhausted and weary. However, the room had grown uncomfortably warm, breathing had become an effort as his ribs objected sharply to each intake of air. The pain from his back had become excruciating, sharp and piercing when he tried to move, and the tingle in his legs had become incessant and severe pins and needles. His rest had become unsettling brief snatches of disturbing dreams, punctuated by longer periods of wakened discomfort. Taln had stayed with him, appearing each time he woke to explain that the medic wouldn't be long, that he'd been held up at the munitions plant.

Taln opened the door and, at last, the medic entered. He was dishevelled and dirty, his dark uniform stained and dusty. His face looked weary and bleak.

"Bad night?" Taln asked, helping him through with his med-kit.

"And some," he answered, drawing a pack off his back and placing it on the floor beside the cot. "I couldn't get away, there were so many casualties. The Rebels did some damage this time and we lost some good people tonight."

Luke opened his eyes and turned his head toward the two, feeling a little confused at first. Then understanding trickled in as he remembered being told some of the Resistance were actually Imperial personnel. "I'm sorry for your losses," he said, his voice little more than a whisper, tight with distress.

"We all know the risks we take doing this, Lieutenant-Commander," Taln answered. "As I'm sure you understand the risks you take when flying your missions."

"Luke," Luke told him.

"What?"

"My name's Luke S..."

"No!" Taln barked quickly, clearly unhappy at even knowing the Rebel's first name. "No names. Only ranks or aliases."

Luke flinched at his mistake. "Sorry," he managed again through a dry throat.

"Well, Luke," the doctor interrupted throwing Taln a sharp look. "Now we have something to call you, let's take a look at you." He sat on the bed beside Luke and drew the blanket off. "How are you feeling?"

Luke smiled at the absurdity of the question. "Lousy," he informed him.

Luke allowed the medic to check him over, grimacing at having to move, grunting as the doctor and Taln undressed him.

"I'll be able to give you a painkiller once I know what we're dealing with," he explained to Luke. "I don't want to mask any symptoms. Does this hurt?" he questioned, pressing firmly on Luke's abdomen.

"No," Luke told him, watching with interest as the doctor drew a small hand held scanner from the pack and ran it over his body. "But my back hurts like hell."

"Did you eject from your fighter?" The scanner was passed over his back. The man frowned and ran it over again.

Luke nodded. "Yeah, seemed like a good idea at the time." A lot of what he had decided before and after ejecting had seemed like good ideas at the time, now he wasn't so sure.

"No doubt it saved your life, but you have some compression damage to your lower spine. How are your legs?"

"Pins and needles. Won't stop."

"Arms?"

"Not so bad. Is this serious?"

"It's mild, you'd be totally paralysed if it wasn't. But, it's serious enough," he turned to Taln. "Tell Dade he'll be here for a while. He's got fractures to his ribs, and left fibula, and a dislocated shoulder. A bit of a temperature, lots of bruising. But it's his back that worries me most."

"How long?" Taln wanted to know.

"I can pop the shoulder back in easily enough, cement the fractures, bacta cast for the ankle, give them and the surrounding tissue time to heal. I'd say two, three weeks. His back... Well, there's no fracture of the vertebrae but tissue damage is bad and the swelling is pressing on the spine."

He looked at Luke, explaining. "That's what's causing the pins and needles. I can give you anti-inflammatories to take the swelling down, a brace to support you, but healing so you can walk without pain and stiffness will take several weeks."

"How long?" Taln repeated.

"Eight weeks, maybe more. Probably more."

Luke groaned, closed his eyes. Too long. The Alliance would regard him as dead, or captured. And considering their almost nomadic existence at times as they moved from base to base, trying to keep one jump ahead of the Empire, getting back to his own squad, his own friends could prove difficult if the Alliance had decided to relocate.

"I have to contact Alliance Command, let them know I'm here."

Taln shook his head. "There's no chance of that just now. All communications off planet will be intercepted. We'll just have to weather the storm until the fuss dies down."

The Medic began sorting through the equipment he had brought with him. "I'll have to requisition a brace for you, but I can treat the fractures just now, and start you on antibiotics and anti-inflammatory." He lifted a hypodermic, and filled it with a honey coloured fluid. "Sedative," he told Luke. "Knock you out for a bit while I work."

"I'll have to update Dade," Taln said at the doctors back. "The next course of action is up to him."

"When's your next contact with him?"

"Not for a few days," Taln informed him. "We need to let the heat die down, lay low. Emergency contact only until then."

"Ready for this?" the physician asked Luke, holding the syringe near the pilot's left hand.

Luke nodded, smiling thinly, gratefully, relieved to be offered something for his pain at last. He settled his head back into the pillow as he felt the liquid slide into the veins on the back of his hand. A coolness travelled to his wrist and then there was a blissful nothing...