Hearts Are Meant To: Chapter 6
From a corner on the far side of the briefing room, Genna watched the Rogues amble through the door. Some noticed her, some pointedly ignored her, and others appeared to be whispering about her. And not in the way she'd prefer. Biting back her annoyance at their behavior, she shifted her attention to the front of the room. Any minute now, the man she now blamed for her degrading introduction to Rogue Squadron would be walking in to stand up there and brief them on what would be her first mission on this side of the war. The thought was somewhat less than thrilling. All the more so because she knew she was as much to blame for her now tarnished reputation as he was. And her conversation with Wedge hadn't helped matters any. Resting her tired head on her hands and closing her eyes, she groaned inwardly at the turn her life had taken. She certainly hadn't expected things to proceed so swiftly downhill when she had joined the Rebellion. She had planned to seek vengeance as a top-notch pilot in the best squadron the Rebels had to offer. Instead, she found herself a loner amidst a rag-tag group of pilots, lead by a clumsy, na•ve, and softhearted farmer who had unwittingly made the pair of them the butt of the latest jokes. Lost in self-reproach and self-pity, she was unaware of the person who had quietly seated himself beside her.
"You seem to have made quite a name for yourself, Miss Cage," a soft voice spoke from beside her.
She jerked her head up and stared into the blue eyes of the stranger who was staring right back at her. She didn't know who he was, although something about him seemed vaguely familiar. Immediately shifting into the defensive, she remarked, "Well, what can I say? I'm gifted."
The man beside her chuckled softly. "So I hear," he said. "Although my sources tell me that your gifts rest mainly in your piloting skills."
Genna stiffened. His accent was unmistakable. "You're Alderaanian," she breathed.
He nodded. "As are you," he noted, holding out his hand to shake hers. "Tycho Celchu."
Genna took his hand even as she placed his name. "Ah, yes. I understand that you had a lot to do with my placement in Rogue Squadron."
He shook his head. "Not that much, really. Skywalker and Narra had the final say, and they both thought your piloting skills were undeniable. I was merely called in to make sure you were trustworthy."
"And am I?" she challenged.
Celchu smiled wryly. "You're going to learn that among some of the folks here, it's going to take more time than you can give them to prove that you're trustworthy. Sometimes, I'm not sure they trust me yet, coming from a background much like yours, and I wonder if they ever will. Suspicions run deep here."
Genna frowned. "Doesn't the fact that you're from Alderaan lend you any credibility?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Celchu replied, "The word 'Imperial' means more to certain segments of the Rebellion than the word 'Alderaan.' Would you believe that there are those who blame Leia Organa for its destruction because of her position in the Imperial Senate?"
"You can't be serious," Genna said tensely.
Celchu gripped her hand. "The good news is that you wont have to deal with that side very often. You're a part of the Rogues, and we will trust each other to the ends of the known universe and beyond. You'll never find a more diverse assortment of pilots anywhere. Neither will you find any as good."
Genna snorted derisively. "Really?"
Celchu laughed softly and leaned in. "I was a little skeptical myself when I joined. Especially when I saw Skywalker. I'll be the first to admit that he seems as unlikely a leader as there could possibly be. But I'll also be the first to admit that once you're up there under his command, there is no one you'd rather have in his position. I swear to it. He may not seem like much, but talk about gifted."
Genna gave him a hard questioning gaze. Why was he telling her this? Did he suspect that she had doubts about their leader? Did he suspect something much deeper? She couldn't tell by his expression. "I'll take your word for it," she said at length.
Celchu smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "You'll do okay, Cage," he assured her.
Strangely reassured by his presence and his remark, Genna was about to favor him with something close to a smile. However, before she could, Celchu rose from his seat and headed for another chair closer to the front of the room. Glancing down at her chrono, Genna saw that the briefing should start any minute now, and she wondered if Celchu had moved to get a little closer to the information. Figuring she might as well follow suit, Genna stood and began to move toward the front.
*****************
Narra had been right, Luke mused. The drug seemed to be working on the pain, and so far he hadn't felt any signs of sleepiness. If anything, he felt quite the opposite. The drug seemed to be having the effect of a stimulant, and he was aware of the acceleration of his heartbeat as he made his way toward the briefing room.
He was halfway there before he began to notice that something was wrong.
It started as a strange feeling in his chest, which he instinctively dismissed as anxiety about the briefing. He wasn't prepared for the mission, and he wasn't in his best form, owing to the whole situation involving Genna Cage. He knew he was unjustly blaming her for everything that had gone wrong in the past two days, but it was relatively easy to do. Once she had arrived, everything had started to go downhill. He'd embarrassed himself, broken his ankle, and been called up on his strategies by Narra. It was no wonder, then, that he was anxious about everything.
When the corridor began to dance and waver in his vision, he knew it was something more than anxiety. Suddenly feeling a bit shaky and woozy, he put one hand against the wall and tried to breathe deeply. The pounding of his heart seemed to grow louder in his ears, but the strange feeling seeping through him did not lessen. If anything, it increased. Still leaning against the wall, he tried to force back panic. Instinct told him that panicking would probably only make things worse. This was probably nothing. Perhaps some annoying side effect of the drug that both Narra and 2-1B had neglected to mention. Maybe it was just a spell, and if he would just relax it would go away on its own. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart in his ears and the strange feeling coursing through his fingertips as his hand made contact with the wall. The wall was cold, and smooth, and it felt good against his skin. He'd never noticed that before. Opening his eyes again, he noted that the corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before his eyes. Pulling his hand away from the wall, he swallowed worriedly. The distance was too great. He'd never make it to the briefing on time. This was really going to upset Narra.
Resolving to simply put one foot in front of the other, he headed in the direction of the briefing room, knowing he'd make it there eventually. Mechanically, he continued walking, on and on down the ever-lengthening corridor on feet that were now starting to turn numb. At least his ankle wasn't hurting. Then again, he really didn't feel anything except this strange cold numbness that was creeping up on him. His head began to feel oddly detached from his body, and he grew less and less aware of his movements. His subconscious must have steered him, for he could not remember the journey to the briefing room. For all he knew, he could have flown there. But suddenly Narra was right in front of him.
"Skywalker, what's wrong?" Narra's panicked voice seemed to be coming from the vacuum of space.
Luke shook his head, disoriented. "I don't know," he replied, trying not to slur his words. The strange sloshing feeling that came from shaking his head struck him as rather amusing, as did the fact that he could barely speak. Everything felt so odd. Like a dream. He giggled. "Ijusdunno," he slurred between giggles, trying desperately to focus on Narra's face and having little success. "Ifeelkinafunny."
"All right, Luke, listen to me," Narra said sternly as his face appeared to engulf Luke's vision.
Oh sith, Luke though. He's angry with me. I knew it. I'm messing up the whole mission. Great job, Wormie. Wormie, that's a funny word. More giggles.
"I want you to get yourself to the medcenter right now!" Narra ordered.
Luke suddenly found himself transfixed by Narra's index finger as it pointed in the direction of the medcenter. Fingers are strange, he thought. Humans point with them, but they're not straight. And it wasn't like Narra could really point out the medcenter with his crooked . . .. The medcenter? Wait, he didn't want to go there. He was feeling truly worried now. Not about his health, but about not being able to what he was supposed to do. He was a leader; he couldn't lead if he was in the medcenter. That was just plain silly. "The briefing," he argued, trying to force himself into sobriety.
"Don't worry about the briefing," the other man retorted. Now Luke was sure he was angry. "Antilles! Get over here!"
Luke turned his head and spotted Wedge jogging over. "Oh, no," Luke groaned. He was being replaced now. By Wedge, of all people.
"Yes, sir," Wedge replied coming to a halt beside Luke. He had moved to fast for Luke's sluggish vision to keep up, and Luke blinked at him as Wedge stared worriedly and said, "Stars, Luke! Are you okay?"
"Antilles," Narra insisted, "I need you to go inside and grab someone to help him to the medcenter."
"I'll take him," Wedge volunteered.
"No, I need you in the briefing with me," Narra said. "We can't scrub the mission, and I'll need your assistance with some modifications. Sithspit, this isn't good."
Luke watched the two men speak, slowly losing interest in the conversation as he fixed his fuzzy gaze on their facial expressions. They really were funny. He leaned back against the wall, watching them, noting that the wall felt almost as good against his back as it had against his hand. It tingled, but he couldn't really feel the surface of the wall. Like he couldn't really feel his body. But he knew it was there.
"What happened to him?" Wedge was asking, his voice drifting on the fringe of Luke's consciousness.
"I'm not sure," Narra replied distantly.
"The medication?"
"It's possible. Luke, you're going straight to the medcenter, okay?"
Luke was confused. Who was speaking? Why did he feel so strange? It was as if he was trapped under sand, but enjoying the feeling of suffocation. Wait, that didn't make any sense. Maybe he was losing his mind. He was definitely losing his body. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. Everything was cold. Like space. The mission! He was going to miss the briefing! "The briefing," he mumbled.
"No, Luke, everything is taken care of. Wedge, go now!"
"I'll handle it," Wedge's voice drifted back.
"You see, we've got everything under control."
He was aware of Narra moving away from him, but he wasn't sure what was happening. He was only aware of the wall against his back and the fuzzy edges that were closing in on his vision.
A face appeared before him. Genna? What was she doing here? She moved closer.
He tried to smile at her. He wanted her to know how pretty she was. To show her how much he liked her. He really did like her. She was different, and pretty, and moving closer to him. Oh, this he really liked.
"Hi, Genna," he drawled through uncooperative lips.
Then everything went black.
*******************
Genna paused on her way to the front of the room as the door opened and several other pilots she didn't recognize as being Rogues entered. These must be the members of Red Flight, she assumed, watching them greet the Rogues loudly and animatedly. So caught up was she in the strange sense of camaraderie she was witnessing between these two groups that she almost bumped into Wedge as he entered the room from a second door she hadn't even been aware of.
He, however, was walking backward as he entered, talking to someone behind him and did not even notice their near collision. "I'll handle it," he was saying quietly.
Genna moved out of the way, but Wedge paused in the doorway, as though waiting for the response of whomever it was he was talking to.
"You see, we've got everything under control," she heard Commander Narra's voice say. That was curious. What was under control? Frowning, she stepped closer, trying to hear what was going on.
At that moment, Wedge turned around. His eyes fell on Genna, and she immediately cursed herself for wanting to eavesdrop. Feeling like a child who has been caught sneaking candy, her eyes darted to Commander Narra, who entered immediately behind Wedge and moved anxiously toward the front of the room. Something was terribly wrong. Glancing back to Wedge, she noted that his expression was neither angry nor reproachful. Her mind was trying to piece together what could possibly be happening to have Narra and Wedge so tense, when suddenly he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the corner.
He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby to overhear him, then he whispered in a low voice, "I need you to do me a favor. Right away."
Genna was confused. She wondered what he could possibly want with her and what would happen if it entailed missing the briefing. She tried to look past him to Commander Narra.
"Don't worry about the briefing," Wedge assured her, as though reading her concern on her features. "I'll fill you in. But this is an emergency and I need to stay here for this."
Still puzzled, but feeling a growing sense of apprehension, Genna asked, "What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to make sure Luke gets to the medcenter right away," he responded.
Genna felt her blood run cold. "What happened?"
Wedge shook his head. "Not sure, but it could be the medication he took."
Trying to fight the inexplicable sense of urgency that had suddenly gripped her, she swallowed. "Why me?"
Wedge gave her an impatient glance before hastily replying, "Because you're the first person I ran into and you also know what happened to him last night, and I figured I wouldn't have to explain everything to you." He gave her a shove. "Now, he's right through that door, so hurry." He indicated the door through which he and Narra had just entered.
Genna nodded and moved swiftly out of the room.
When she saw Luke, her urgency grew to a sense of full-fledged panic that felt like a hard, ice-cold stone in the pit of her stomach. He was leaning against the wall of the corridor, deathly pale and trembling, yet smiling in a strange and giddy way. When he saw her, he favored her with an even bigger smile that she was unable to return. Without giving herself a chance to wonder why she was so terrifyingly concerned for him, she moved to his side.
"Hjna," he slurred a second before he slid down the wall and collapsed in a lifeless heap on the floor.
Genna watched him crumple and her heart stopped. Then, reacting the only way her panicked mind knew how, she crouched down beside him slapped him soundly across the face. Resting on the balls of her feet, she anxiously waited for a sign. When nothing happened, she raised her hand once more, prepared to hit him again, harder this time if necessary. "Luke, snap out of it, ya' hear? Or so help me I'll . . .."
She broke off with a sigh of relief as Luke's eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for his glassy eyes to focus on her, but Genna was simply relieved that he was awake at all. Or as close to it as he was going to get. He was definitely not in any condition to conduct a briefing. She wasn't even sure if he was in any condition to conduct a simple conversation. He seemed to be staring at her in a complete state of bewilderment. She lowered her hand and gripped his shoulders, giving them a gentle shake.
"Come on, Luke, shake it off," she urged, taking a moment to glance around the corridor, frantically scanning for anyone who might be able to help her drag him to the medcenter if needed. The halls were empty. Figured, she groaned inwardly.
"Mrphgm."
Genna looked back at Luke, who was the only person who could have made the strange vocal noise she'd just heard. Sure enough, Luke was looking around in complete disorientation, blinking his eyes and furrowing his brow.
She grabbed his shoulders. "Come on, we have to get you to the medcenter," she urged, trying to haul him up from the floor.
In response, he blinked at her, vague recognition seeping into his dazed expression. There wasn't much else there, though, and Genna found herself struggling to lift the barely conscious Commander to his feet. He wasn't helping much, and she found him about as manageable as a human-sized sack of grain.
"Luke, you've got to help me out here," she growled as she hefted his arm over her shoulder and tried to wedge her other arm beneath his armpit. Once she'd maneuvered him into this position, he somehow managed to drag his feet beneath him so that she wasn't fully supporting his dead weight. His head rested heavily on her shoulder, and she suddenly felt a loose tendril of her hair brush against her neck, blown by the warm breath of the man she was half-carrying.
"Smells nice," he mumbled from her shoulder.
She stiffened, fighting back the urge to slap him again. She hadn't quite expected his first words since regaining consciousness to be what he'd just mumbled into her neck. Her cheeks burned at the very idea. However, he wasn't in full control of his faculties, she reminded herself, dragging him along the hallway. He was liable to say or do anything at this point. Groaning at the continued disconcerting sensation of having a man breath on her neck, she kept moving. The sooner this task was over, the better. For both of them, she realized, as his slight giggle sent tingles down her spine.
"What are you laughing at, Commander?" she snapped, hoping that a little edge might stir him a little more.
"Dizzy," he murmured in response.
Genna bit her lip and frowned. It was growing more and more obvious by the lack of coherency and the increase in dragging as opposed to helping, Luke was going to need serious treatment before he snapped out of this at all. She only hoped she could make it there with him on her own. Her arm was getting tired, and it was getting more and more difficult to keep up the pace she had initially set.
"You need some help there?"
Genna jerked her head upward to meet the speaker of the voice. A young man she couldn't identify stood before her, looking very concerned.
"Uh, yeah," she muttered. "I'm trying to get him to the medcenter."
The man arched an eyebrow. "What happened? He looks drunk."
Genna cracked a smile at that. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" she conceded. "Unfortunately, he isn't. This is some kind of weird reaction to something."
The man took hold of Luke's other arm, for which Genna was immediately grateful. "Sounds like a reaction to pseudonyex," he grunted as he took on some of Luke's weight. "Am I right?"
"Could be," Genna replied with a shake of her head. "I have no idea, to tell you the truth."
The man smiled. "Happened to a buddy of mine. He should be fine once we get him to the medcenter," he assured her.
"Well, that's good," Genna said with a sigh of relief. "By the way, I didn't get your name."
"Lieutenant Grey," he replied with a nod of his head. "I work on the flight deck."
Genna grinned at him politely. "Then I'll see you more often, Lieutenant. I'm a member of Rogue Squadron."
Grey nodded in understanding. "And this man would be?"
Unceremoniously using her free hand to lift Luke's head up by his hair, she replied flatly, "Our esteemed Commander."
The look of shock on Grey's face was priceless, and Genna would have paid good money for a holorecording of it. "Commander Skywalker?"
"None other," Genna answered sweetly while fighting the urge to giggle, herself. Having been forced into this uncomfortable and tedious task, she couldn't help but take what small pleasures she could. She felt a twinge of guilt at finding amusement at poor Luke's expense, but it was fleeting. After all, things had been awkward enough between them. Why not add some more elements to the mix?
The Lieutenant started to quicken his pace as his expression turned to one of grave concern. "Well, then we'd better get him to the medcenter before he goes into shock."
"Is that a possibility?" Genna asked, a bit of concern creeping back into her own voice now.
"Well, uh, yeah," Grey answered.
Genna quickened her pace alongside him, but scowled at him from over Luke's head. "So why weren't you this worried before you knew who it was?"
Grey was saved from answering because they'd reached the medcenter. At their entrance, everything became a flurry of motion as Luke was hustled from here to there in a blur of medical droids and technicians. And in the midst of it all, Grey had disappeared. Genna grimaced. "Figures," she sighed before turning around and heading back toward the briefing room. She hoped she hadn't missed too much.
As she passed through the door, she threw one last glance over her shoulder, not sure why she had done it, but somehow reassuring herself that Luke would be okay.
Of course, what did she care?
From a corner on the far side of the briefing room, Genna watched the Rogues amble through the door. Some noticed her, some pointedly ignored her, and others appeared to be whispering about her. And not in the way she'd prefer. Biting back her annoyance at their behavior, she shifted her attention to the front of the room. Any minute now, the man she now blamed for her degrading introduction to Rogue Squadron would be walking in to stand up there and brief them on what would be her first mission on this side of the war. The thought was somewhat less than thrilling. All the more so because she knew she was as much to blame for her now tarnished reputation as he was. And her conversation with Wedge hadn't helped matters any. Resting her tired head on her hands and closing her eyes, she groaned inwardly at the turn her life had taken. She certainly hadn't expected things to proceed so swiftly downhill when she had joined the Rebellion. She had planned to seek vengeance as a top-notch pilot in the best squadron the Rebels had to offer. Instead, she found herself a loner amidst a rag-tag group of pilots, lead by a clumsy, na•ve, and softhearted farmer who had unwittingly made the pair of them the butt of the latest jokes. Lost in self-reproach and self-pity, she was unaware of the person who had quietly seated himself beside her.
"You seem to have made quite a name for yourself, Miss Cage," a soft voice spoke from beside her.
She jerked her head up and stared into the blue eyes of the stranger who was staring right back at her. She didn't know who he was, although something about him seemed vaguely familiar. Immediately shifting into the defensive, she remarked, "Well, what can I say? I'm gifted."
The man beside her chuckled softly. "So I hear," he said. "Although my sources tell me that your gifts rest mainly in your piloting skills."
Genna stiffened. His accent was unmistakable. "You're Alderaanian," she breathed.
He nodded. "As are you," he noted, holding out his hand to shake hers. "Tycho Celchu."
Genna took his hand even as she placed his name. "Ah, yes. I understand that you had a lot to do with my placement in Rogue Squadron."
He shook his head. "Not that much, really. Skywalker and Narra had the final say, and they both thought your piloting skills were undeniable. I was merely called in to make sure you were trustworthy."
"And am I?" she challenged.
Celchu smiled wryly. "You're going to learn that among some of the folks here, it's going to take more time than you can give them to prove that you're trustworthy. Sometimes, I'm not sure they trust me yet, coming from a background much like yours, and I wonder if they ever will. Suspicions run deep here."
Genna frowned. "Doesn't the fact that you're from Alderaan lend you any credibility?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Celchu replied, "The word 'Imperial' means more to certain segments of the Rebellion than the word 'Alderaan.' Would you believe that there are those who blame Leia Organa for its destruction because of her position in the Imperial Senate?"
"You can't be serious," Genna said tensely.
Celchu gripped her hand. "The good news is that you wont have to deal with that side very often. You're a part of the Rogues, and we will trust each other to the ends of the known universe and beyond. You'll never find a more diverse assortment of pilots anywhere. Neither will you find any as good."
Genna snorted derisively. "Really?"
Celchu laughed softly and leaned in. "I was a little skeptical myself when I joined. Especially when I saw Skywalker. I'll be the first to admit that he seems as unlikely a leader as there could possibly be. But I'll also be the first to admit that once you're up there under his command, there is no one you'd rather have in his position. I swear to it. He may not seem like much, but talk about gifted."
Genna gave him a hard questioning gaze. Why was he telling her this? Did he suspect that she had doubts about their leader? Did he suspect something much deeper? She couldn't tell by his expression. "I'll take your word for it," she said at length.
Celchu smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "You'll do okay, Cage," he assured her.
Strangely reassured by his presence and his remark, Genna was about to favor him with something close to a smile. However, before she could, Celchu rose from his seat and headed for another chair closer to the front of the room. Glancing down at her chrono, Genna saw that the briefing should start any minute now, and she wondered if Celchu had moved to get a little closer to the information. Figuring she might as well follow suit, Genna stood and began to move toward the front.
*****************
Narra had been right, Luke mused. The drug seemed to be working on the pain, and so far he hadn't felt any signs of sleepiness. If anything, he felt quite the opposite. The drug seemed to be having the effect of a stimulant, and he was aware of the acceleration of his heartbeat as he made his way toward the briefing room.
He was halfway there before he began to notice that something was wrong.
It started as a strange feeling in his chest, which he instinctively dismissed as anxiety about the briefing. He wasn't prepared for the mission, and he wasn't in his best form, owing to the whole situation involving Genna Cage. He knew he was unjustly blaming her for everything that had gone wrong in the past two days, but it was relatively easy to do. Once she had arrived, everything had started to go downhill. He'd embarrassed himself, broken his ankle, and been called up on his strategies by Narra. It was no wonder, then, that he was anxious about everything.
When the corridor began to dance and waver in his vision, he knew it was something more than anxiety. Suddenly feeling a bit shaky and woozy, he put one hand against the wall and tried to breathe deeply. The pounding of his heart seemed to grow louder in his ears, but the strange feeling seeping through him did not lessen. If anything, it increased. Still leaning against the wall, he tried to force back panic. Instinct told him that panicking would probably only make things worse. This was probably nothing. Perhaps some annoying side effect of the drug that both Narra and 2-1B had neglected to mention. Maybe it was just a spell, and if he would just relax it would go away on its own. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart in his ears and the strange feeling coursing through his fingertips as his hand made contact with the wall. The wall was cold, and smooth, and it felt good against his skin. He'd never noticed that before. Opening his eyes again, he noted that the corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before his eyes. Pulling his hand away from the wall, he swallowed worriedly. The distance was too great. He'd never make it to the briefing on time. This was really going to upset Narra.
Resolving to simply put one foot in front of the other, he headed in the direction of the briefing room, knowing he'd make it there eventually. Mechanically, he continued walking, on and on down the ever-lengthening corridor on feet that were now starting to turn numb. At least his ankle wasn't hurting. Then again, he really didn't feel anything except this strange cold numbness that was creeping up on him. His head began to feel oddly detached from his body, and he grew less and less aware of his movements. His subconscious must have steered him, for he could not remember the journey to the briefing room. For all he knew, he could have flown there. But suddenly Narra was right in front of him.
"Skywalker, what's wrong?" Narra's panicked voice seemed to be coming from the vacuum of space.
Luke shook his head, disoriented. "I don't know," he replied, trying not to slur his words. The strange sloshing feeling that came from shaking his head struck him as rather amusing, as did the fact that he could barely speak. Everything felt so odd. Like a dream. He giggled. "Ijusdunno," he slurred between giggles, trying desperately to focus on Narra's face and having little success. "Ifeelkinafunny."
"All right, Luke, listen to me," Narra said sternly as his face appeared to engulf Luke's vision.
Oh sith, Luke though. He's angry with me. I knew it. I'm messing up the whole mission. Great job, Wormie. Wormie, that's a funny word. More giggles.
"I want you to get yourself to the medcenter right now!" Narra ordered.
Luke suddenly found himself transfixed by Narra's index finger as it pointed in the direction of the medcenter. Fingers are strange, he thought. Humans point with them, but they're not straight. And it wasn't like Narra could really point out the medcenter with his crooked . . .. The medcenter? Wait, he didn't want to go there. He was feeling truly worried now. Not about his health, but about not being able to what he was supposed to do. He was a leader; he couldn't lead if he was in the medcenter. That was just plain silly. "The briefing," he argued, trying to force himself into sobriety.
"Don't worry about the briefing," the other man retorted. Now Luke was sure he was angry. "Antilles! Get over here!"
Luke turned his head and spotted Wedge jogging over. "Oh, no," Luke groaned. He was being replaced now. By Wedge, of all people.
"Yes, sir," Wedge replied coming to a halt beside Luke. He had moved to fast for Luke's sluggish vision to keep up, and Luke blinked at him as Wedge stared worriedly and said, "Stars, Luke! Are you okay?"
"Antilles," Narra insisted, "I need you to go inside and grab someone to help him to the medcenter."
"I'll take him," Wedge volunteered.
"No, I need you in the briefing with me," Narra said. "We can't scrub the mission, and I'll need your assistance with some modifications. Sithspit, this isn't good."
Luke watched the two men speak, slowly losing interest in the conversation as he fixed his fuzzy gaze on their facial expressions. They really were funny. He leaned back against the wall, watching them, noting that the wall felt almost as good against his back as it had against his hand. It tingled, but he couldn't really feel the surface of the wall. Like he couldn't really feel his body. But he knew it was there.
"What happened to him?" Wedge was asking, his voice drifting on the fringe of Luke's consciousness.
"I'm not sure," Narra replied distantly.
"The medication?"
"It's possible. Luke, you're going straight to the medcenter, okay?"
Luke was confused. Who was speaking? Why did he feel so strange? It was as if he was trapped under sand, but enjoying the feeling of suffocation. Wait, that didn't make any sense. Maybe he was losing his mind. He was definitely losing his body. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. Everything was cold. Like space. The mission! He was going to miss the briefing! "The briefing," he mumbled.
"No, Luke, everything is taken care of. Wedge, go now!"
"I'll handle it," Wedge's voice drifted back.
"You see, we've got everything under control."
He was aware of Narra moving away from him, but he wasn't sure what was happening. He was only aware of the wall against his back and the fuzzy edges that were closing in on his vision.
A face appeared before him. Genna? What was she doing here? She moved closer.
He tried to smile at her. He wanted her to know how pretty she was. To show her how much he liked her. He really did like her. She was different, and pretty, and moving closer to him. Oh, this he really liked.
"Hi, Genna," he drawled through uncooperative lips.
Then everything went black.
*******************
Genna paused on her way to the front of the room as the door opened and several other pilots she didn't recognize as being Rogues entered. These must be the members of Red Flight, she assumed, watching them greet the Rogues loudly and animatedly. So caught up was she in the strange sense of camaraderie she was witnessing between these two groups that she almost bumped into Wedge as he entered the room from a second door she hadn't even been aware of.
He, however, was walking backward as he entered, talking to someone behind him and did not even notice their near collision. "I'll handle it," he was saying quietly.
Genna moved out of the way, but Wedge paused in the doorway, as though waiting for the response of whomever it was he was talking to.
"You see, we've got everything under control," she heard Commander Narra's voice say. That was curious. What was under control? Frowning, she stepped closer, trying to hear what was going on.
At that moment, Wedge turned around. His eyes fell on Genna, and she immediately cursed herself for wanting to eavesdrop. Feeling like a child who has been caught sneaking candy, her eyes darted to Commander Narra, who entered immediately behind Wedge and moved anxiously toward the front of the room. Something was terribly wrong. Glancing back to Wedge, she noted that his expression was neither angry nor reproachful. Her mind was trying to piece together what could possibly be happening to have Narra and Wedge so tense, when suddenly he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the corner.
He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby to overhear him, then he whispered in a low voice, "I need you to do me a favor. Right away."
Genna was confused. She wondered what he could possibly want with her and what would happen if it entailed missing the briefing. She tried to look past him to Commander Narra.
"Don't worry about the briefing," Wedge assured her, as though reading her concern on her features. "I'll fill you in. But this is an emergency and I need to stay here for this."
Still puzzled, but feeling a growing sense of apprehension, Genna asked, "What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to make sure Luke gets to the medcenter right away," he responded.
Genna felt her blood run cold. "What happened?"
Wedge shook his head. "Not sure, but it could be the medication he took."
Trying to fight the inexplicable sense of urgency that had suddenly gripped her, she swallowed. "Why me?"
Wedge gave her an impatient glance before hastily replying, "Because you're the first person I ran into and you also know what happened to him last night, and I figured I wouldn't have to explain everything to you." He gave her a shove. "Now, he's right through that door, so hurry." He indicated the door through which he and Narra had just entered.
Genna nodded and moved swiftly out of the room.
When she saw Luke, her urgency grew to a sense of full-fledged panic that felt like a hard, ice-cold stone in the pit of her stomach. He was leaning against the wall of the corridor, deathly pale and trembling, yet smiling in a strange and giddy way. When he saw her, he favored her with an even bigger smile that she was unable to return. Without giving herself a chance to wonder why she was so terrifyingly concerned for him, she moved to his side.
"Hjna," he slurred a second before he slid down the wall and collapsed in a lifeless heap on the floor.
Genna watched him crumple and her heart stopped. Then, reacting the only way her panicked mind knew how, she crouched down beside him slapped him soundly across the face. Resting on the balls of her feet, she anxiously waited for a sign. When nothing happened, she raised her hand once more, prepared to hit him again, harder this time if necessary. "Luke, snap out of it, ya' hear? Or so help me I'll . . .."
She broke off with a sigh of relief as Luke's eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for his glassy eyes to focus on her, but Genna was simply relieved that he was awake at all. Or as close to it as he was going to get. He was definitely not in any condition to conduct a briefing. She wasn't even sure if he was in any condition to conduct a simple conversation. He seemed to be staring at her in a complete state of bewilderment. She lowered her hand and gripped his shoulders, giving them a gentle shake.
"Come on, Luke, shake it off," she urged, taking a moment to glance around the corridor, frantically scanning for anyone who might be able to help her drag him to the medcenter if needed. The halls were empty. Figured, she groaned inwardly.
"Mrphgm."
Genna looked back at Luke, who was the only person who could have made the strange vocal noise she'd just heard. Sure enough, Luke was looking around in complete disorientation, blinking his eyes and furrowing his brow.
She grabbed his shoulders. "Come on, we have to get you to the medcenter," she urged, trying to haul him up from the floor.
In response, he blinked at her, vague recognition seeping into his dazed expression. There wasn't much else there, though, and Genna found herself struggling to lift the barely conscious Commander to his feet. He wasn't helping much, and she found him about as manageable as a human-sized sack of grain.
"Luke, you've got to help me out here," she growled as she hefted his arm over her shoulder and tried to wedge her other arm beneath his armpit. Once she'd maneuvered him into this position, he somehow managed to drag his feet beneath him so that she wasn't fully supporting his dead weight. His head rested heavily on her shoulder, and she suddenly felt a loose tendril of her hair brush against her neck, blown by the warm breath of the man she was half-carrying.
"Smells nice," he mumbled from her shoulder.
She stiffened, fighting back the urge to slap him again. She hadn't quite expected his first words since regaining consciousness to be what he'd just mumbled into her neck. Her cheeks burned at the very idea. However, he wasn't in full control of his faculties, she reminded herself, dragging him along the hallway. He was liable to say or do anything at this point. Groaning at the continued disconcerting sensation of having a man breath on her neck, she kept moving. The sooner this task was over, the better. For both of them, she realized, as his slight giggle sent tingles down her spine.
"What are you laughing at, Commander?" she snapped, hoping that a little edge might stir him a little more.
"Dizzy," he murmured in response.
Genna bit her lip and frowned. It was growing more and more obvious by the lack of coherency and the increase in dragging as opposed to helping, Luke was going to need serious treatment before he snapped out of this at all. She only hoped she could make it there with him on her own. Her arm was getting tired, and it was getting more and more difficult to keep up the pace she had initially set.
"You need some help there?"
Genna jerked her head upward to meet the speaker of the voice. A young man she couldn't identify stood before her, looking very concerned.
"Uh, yeah," she muttered. "I'm trying to get him to the medcenter."
The man arched an eyebrow. "What happened? He looks drunk."
Genna cracked a smile at that. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" she conceded. "Unfortunately, he isn't. This is some kind of weird reaction to something."
The man took hold of Luke's other arm, for which Genna was immediately grateful. "Sounds like a reaction to pseudonyex," he grunted as he took on some of Luke's weight. "Am I right?"
"Could be," Genna replied with a shake of her head. "I have no idea, to tell you the truth."
The man smiled. "Happened to a buddy of mine. He should be fine once we get him to the medcenter," he assured her.
"Well, that's good," Genna said with a sigh of relief. "By the way, I didn't get your name."
"Lieutenant Grey," he replied with a nod of his head. "I work on the flight deck."
Genna grinned at him politely. "Then I'll see you more often, Lieutenant. I'm a member of Rogue Squadron."
Grey nodded in understanding. "And this man would be?"
Unceremoniously using her free hand to lift Luke's head up by his hair, she replied flatly, "Our esteemed Commander."
The look of shock on Grey's face was priceless, and Genna would have paid good money for a holorecording of it. "Commander Skywalker?"
"None other," Genna answered sweetly while fighting the urge to giggle, herself. Having been forced into this uncomfortable and tedious task, she couldn't help but take what small pleasures she could. She felt a twinge of guilt at finding amusement at poor Luke's expense, but it was fleeting. After all, things had been awkward enough between them. Why not add some more elements to the mix?
The Lieutenant started to quicken his pace as his expression turned to one of grave concern. "Well, then we'd better get him to the medcenter before he goes into shock."
"Is that a possibility?" Genna asked, a bit of concern creeping back into her own voice now.
"Well, uh, yeah," Grey answered.
Genna quickened her pace alongside him, but scowled at him from over Luke's head. "So why weren't you this worried before you knew who it was?"
Grey was saved from answering because they'd reached the medcenter. At their entrance, everything became a flurry of motion as Luke was hustled from here to there in a blur of medical droids and technicians. And in the midst of it all, Grey had disappeared. Genna grimaced. "Figures," she sighed before turning around and heading back toward the briefing room. She hoped she hadn't missed too much.
As she passed through the door, she threw one last glance over her shoulder, not sure why she had done it, but somehow reassuring herself that Luke would be okay.
Of course, what did she care?