Signs of Life
By JalendaviLady
Chapter 10
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars.
If you recognize any characters, locations, or things in the following story, George Lucas owns them.
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Han and Chewie walked into the
medcenter, looking for Anakin. One of the medics had commed Leia to
tell her Anakin had spent a stressful day with Biggs, although the
medic hadn't said anything about why the day was stressful.
Leia had sent them to see if Anakin was doing ok, as a friendly
visit.
They were about to turn into the hall that housed both
Anakin and Biggs' rooms when the distinctive sound of a
low-power though still potentially deadly blastershot rent the air.
They ran around the corner, Han barely registering the
slight flash of light that meant Chewie had unsheathed his climbing
claws.
A man in Biggs' doorway, holding a blaster and
falling backwards.
The blaster tumbled in air back into the
room.
Seconds later, a stunblast crossed the hall. The man
jerked once and was still except for the slightest rise and fall in
his chest.
The sound of labored breathing from inside the
room brought both Chewie and Han to their senses. Han grabbed his
commlink and punched Leia's number.
She answered
quickly. "Leia here."
"Leia, it's
Han. Bit of trouble here. Get security to come to Biggs' room
in the medcenter and tell the medics they need to get there too.
Unknown gunner down by a stunshot, haven't ventured in the room
yet."
"I'll handle that and be down there
soon." There was no mistaking the sudden fear in her voice. Her
end of the link disconnected.
"Keep an eye on him,
Chewie," Han told his co-pilot. "The last thing we need
is him waking up unrestrained."
The Wookiee whuffled
assent.
Han swallowed hard once, then entered the room.
Biggs was okay, shaken if the look in his eyes was anything
to go by, but unharmed.
Anakin was another story entirely.
There was a large blaster burn in the wall immediately over
where his head had likely been, if the position of the tipped
wheelchair-bed was anything to go by.
It's going to
take the medics to get him back in that thing safely. The IV's
and other tubes and such all still appeared to be relatively intact.
Anakin himself, however, was another matter entirely.
He
was sprawled partly on the ground and partly on pillows and padding
which had fallen off the wheelchair-bed, blaster next to one of his
hands. The oxygen mask had slipped away from his nose and mouth;
Anakin was breathing, but struggling.
He was also shivering
violently. Most of the blankets he had been under were now under him.
He can't regulate his own temperature correctly yet, Han
realized. The suit did that for him, and he doesn't have the
energy reserves to handle it himself yet. The medcenter shirt and the
drawstring pants he's wearing aren't insulating enough.
He tried to put whatever of the blankets and such he could
over Anakin as well as he could. The ex-Sith continued shivering, but
it wasn't as forceful.
Anakin opened his eyes slightly,
breath still wheezing. "Shh, big guy. You fell over. Just give
me another minute and you'll be as fixed up as you can be
without the help of the medics." Anakin closed his eyes,
clearly trusting the ex-smuggler.
It was then that Han
realized the breathmask had been damaged in the fall. He tried to
hold in a long stream of invective, then tried to see what could be
salvaged.
The mouth-part was completely mangled, hanging on
by threads of material to the rest of the mask, but the nose-part was
fairly intact. Han ripped the mouth-part off, tore a strip off one of
the blankets and used it to block whatever openings remained that
would have gone to the mouth portion, and then pressed the nose-part
over Anakin's nose, helping the middle-aged Jedi hold it in
place.
...
Luke felt himself slowly gain a dim
awareness of the world. Where... am... I...?
//Resting
between week-long bacta dunks. They eased off the sedatives so they
can be sure nothing that happened to you or that they're doing
now is causing mind damage. I wouldn't advise trying to wake up
further right now. You're still very weak and injured. You've
only been in the medcenter for just over a week.//
Who?
Luke felt himself drawn into a gentle Force-embrace. //An old
friend of your father. Don't try to figure out who I am; I died
years before you were born. You've probably never even heard of
me.//
How... is... he...?
//Luke, you need to
worry about yourself now.//
Sudden fear seized Luke.
Father...
The Force-embrace tightened slightly. //Shh.
He's going to be fine. You're in worse shape than he is.
The medics are taking good care of both of you. Just rest, little
Jedi.//
Luke was suddenly aware of the weak Force-presence of
a medic next to him. "Luke? Can you hear me?"
He
mumbled something he intended to be assent, then grimaced. No one
should ever wake up to their own bacta breath. He opened his eyes
slightly and immediately recognized where he was.
Every
medcenter in the fleet had a few such rooms for the extremely
injured. The room consisted of the medical bed, a bacta tank, and
nearly every piece of modern diagnosis, condition analysis, and
life-support technology. The pilots always called them the "crash
rooms" because about the only thing that could place someone in
the serious shape the rooms were meant to deal with was a starfighter
crash. There was a small window looking in from an observation area;
that was the only part of the wall that wasn't taken up by
devices or the door itself.
"Luke? Do you know where
you are?"
"Medcenter," he responded weakly,
closing his eyes again. "One of the crash rooms."
"Do
you remember why?"
"Battle, we won, I was hurt
and Father's life-support was damaged."
"Well,
if nothing else, your memory is undamaged." He moved towards
something behind Luke. "I need to start the sedatives again.
Before I do, do you have any questions?"
"How's
Father doing?"
"He'll live, but he's
going to be in the medcenter awhile. We're trying to find out
what the least amount of life-support is that he actually needs to
survive. I'm not supposed to tell you any more than that."
"I understand." Luke closed his eyes and felt the
still-existent Force-embrace strengthen as he started to fade back
into unconsciousness. Who are you, anyway?
//As I
said, I am one of your father's friends from long ago, before
the Purge began.//
And then there was only the painlessness
of utter unconsciousness.
...