It had felt strangely natural to hurry to his side, across the examination bed from the Too-OneBee, and to hold his left hand between hers. "What happened to you?"
Thrawn smiled faintly, but it was the chief med droid who answered. "The lieutenant's arm was broken in two places. He was being just as difficult as you about treatment. What are you doing up, Miss Starflare?"
"I'm perfectly fine," she protested, at the same time that Thrawn asked, "You were injured?"
"It's nothing. I twisted my ankle, but the doctor here fixed it. Thrawn, do you realize Captain Corlag is here and Lieutenant Theel came down especially to wake him up?"
"But how—enterprising of lieutenant Theel," Thrawn said with a wince. She looked up quickly at the Too-OneBee, who was still at work on Thrawn's arm.
"You're hurting him!"
"Lieutenant Thrawn refused a general painkiller because he didn't want his awareness reduced. I'm using local anesthetics, but they may not have 100% efficiency."
The med droid sounded decidedly peeved, and Thrawn's good hand squeezed Wynssa's in return. The alien lieutenant asked in his usual cool voice: "How is the Captain?"
"He's not well, but he's awake. I'd hoped the doctor here could make him stay in bed."
The Too-OneBee's rich baritone managed to convey a nice blend of sarcasm and exasperation: "I'm amazed you thought such a thing, considering neither you nor the lieutenant here seem to want to comply with my instructions."
Thrawn was betrayed into a short burst of laughter, and Wynssa stared at him in wonder. "That's the first time I've ever seen you laugh."
The cool voice never wavered. "I apologize; it was undoubtedly inappropriate. Doctor, the difference is this: when Miss Starflare or myself fail to follow your directions, we merely experience discomfort. The Captain might actually be endangering his health."
She felt like kicking herself. I've ruined the moment. It was definitely the way to handle the med-droid, though. He was finishing Thrawn's portable cast. "That is very likely. I will go and see the Captain."
***
Mikam's white face told him the news before the junior lieutenant opened his mouth to report. "What happened?" Piett barked more harshly than he would have liked.
"The—the stateroom's gone, sir. Viewport cracked—open to space. I—I tried to open the door, but it was sealed—and the override wouldn't work—" The young man gulped, started again. "I hooked myself to the nearest safety point and entered the breached compartment override code—and there was nothing left inside, sir—there was hardly any inside."
"Have you sealed the door again?" Sansevi asked.
Good man, Piett thought. Straight to the point. If he had to surrender his so-recent command, there could be worse types to defer to.
Young Mikam nodded, the shaky "Aye sir" coming out a beat later. His young face scrunched up, and Piett braced himself for tears, when Mikam's expression changed, suddenly arrested. "S—Sir?"
"Yes?"
"What—do you think will happen—when the grids find out we've— lost Wynssa Starflare?"
There's a valid question. He could see Sansevi saw it as well. "Blast!" the captain spat. "We'll have to prepare for it. Not now; the ship's the main priority. But I'll have to let Navy Public Affairs know—and the Admiral. If I remember correctly, His Majesty attended the premiere of her latest flick. We're going to be famous—and we're not going to like it one bit."
***
She simply couldn't think of a thing to say.
The Too-OneBee had left them to go to Captain Corlag, and Wynssa, still standing at Thrawn's side next to the medbed, found herself suddenly tongue-tied. Her hand was still holding his. She pulled it back, but he caught her fingers in a light grip before they could slip away completely from his.
"I like this color. It suits you."
She glanced down at the cuff of her jumper peeping out of the silver polar jacket sleeve, so close to their intertwined fingers. The blue was barely a shade paler than his hand, she realized, and almost the same tint as his naked, hairless chest. She suddenly felt self-conscious; no longer entirely comfortable in her cozy old travel tracksuit. Raising her eyes, she met his intent, phosphorescent gaze above a slight smile.
"You're not going to lose your nerve now? It wouldn't be like you."
Was he talking about her unexpected shyness, or the presence of Corlag so near? She shook her head. "What do we do now?"
"Go to the bridge, I think,' he said. "I'm afraid I will require your assistance to get into my uniform."
"Should you be getting up so fast?"
"But for finding you here, being delayed in sickbay before the end of the battle would have been a complete waste of time. I was ordered down, but I don't intend to stay one minute longer than I have to."
She'd never heard this curt finality in his voice, and stared at him. "Your arm was broken!"
"I have another arm."
"But the pain—"
"I'd have no business being a soldier if I couldn't stand some amount of discomfort." He sat up and swung his long legs down the side of the medbed. "May I trouble you for my shirt and jacket, behind you?"
Wordlessly, she picked them up and laid them on the examination bed. The right shirtsleeve had been cut open, presumably by the Too-OneBee, but the uniform jacket was intact. "I'm surprised you managed to save your jacket and not your shirt," Wynssa said rather tartly, drawing a short laugh from him.
"I'm convinced you can guess why."
"You wouldn't let the doctor damage your clothes, but by the time he'd got the jacket off, you'd fainted."
"What a poor creature you must think me!"
"No, an exceptionally stubborn one."
He'd been shrugging himself into the shirt, but paused to look at her with such a warm smile that she felt herself blush. "I simply calculated nobody would see the shirt was torn once I had the jacket back on, and let it—him—have his way."
"I see. You had it all planned."
"Merely conserving my energies."
She should have found his unfailing self-assurance annoying, she reflected, but she didn't; it only increased her admiration for what she could guess of the years of rigorous self-discipline behind it. She helped him slide his arm-cast into the right sleeve of his uniform jacket. It was a very tight fit, but they managed to drag the olive-green gabardine down to his splinted wrist. With her help, he donned the jacket altogether and let her fasten it up for him, finding the invisible buttons under the front flap.
"You'll never be able to take it off on your own," she said.
Standing up next to the medbed, he was now tugging at the jacket's hem to restore it to its creaseless, officer-like state. "The situation will have moved on by that time, one way or another."
Meaning we'll be safely on the way to Coruscant, or dead. Or a number of unpleasant options in-between. She handed him his belt silently, helped him buckle it up. "You must think I'm making far too much of a fuss."
"I think nothing of the kind," he said in a quiet voice, taking her hand as she let go of the belt-buckle.
She fell silent and looked up into the strange red eyes. No pupils, no white, just these almonds of glittering little prisms, somehow unmistakably expressive.
"Well!" broke in loudly a voice she knew only too well.
Jostling past an agitated Too-OneBee, lieutenant Per Theel was staring accusingly at them from the doorway.