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Chapter 48
Scar

Vader jerked awake with a start, gasping in panic. His eyes darted around wildly, seeing absolutely nothing familiar. He tried to get up of whatever the heck he was laying on to escape, but the combination of restraints fastened around his ankles, waist, and wrists and sheer exhaustion kept him from going anywhere.

Shit! Kriffin' hell! How could I fall asleep? How long have I been out? Where am I? Where is–

"Calm down," someone commanded sternly.

He whirled on the voice, eyes blazing. "Where's Obi-Wan?" Vader demanded, his mind only working enough to recognize that the man he was addressing wasn't his Master.

"He's back on Muunilinst." The man he confronted replied calmly.

Vader blinked, gasped for breath, and tried to make sense of that answer. It took a while as his mind was still muddled with sleep and roiling with the burst of adrenalin his panic had provoked. But as his confusion started to clear, the pain caught up with him.

"Oh ouch," he grunted, sinking back down onto the cot that he was bound to. "Where's the Reek that trampled me?" He wheezed.

The man didn't answer. Apparently he didn't find Vader's weak attempt at levity amusing. He just sat there silently. And then it hit Vader just who he was dealing with.

Aw crap, it's Master Halcyon again. He moaned softly and closed his eyes…well, eye. His right eye remained swollen shut so it hadn't been open in the first place.

"Where are we going?" Vader asked partly out of curiosity, partly to distract himself from the constant throbbing pain.

"To the Med-Star ship, Wandering Star, in the Bellthar System." Master Halcyon replied.

"Oh," Vader blinked his one eye. That didn't tell him much. In pain, tired, and bored, he tried to make the time pass faster. "How long until we get there?"

"Just under a half an hour." Master Halcyon answered.

"Am I going to be tied down the whole time?" Vader wondered.

"Do you have to get up?" Master Halcyon asked.

"No," Vader replied after a moment's thought.

"Then you stay tied up until the Healers examine you." Master Halcyon declared.

"Okay," Vader sighed. "Why are you here?"

"What do you mean?" Master Halcyon frowned.

"Don't you have better things to do than sit around and stare at me? Maybe some battlefront that you're needed at?" Vader suggested.

"No, not at the moment." Master Halcyon replied. "Master Kenobi asked me to escort you to the Wandering Star and I agreed."

"Oh," Vader started tapping a little rhythm with the fingers of his left hand. "Why did you agree?"

"I agreed because Master Kenobi is my respected colleague and I had no other pressing business at the time." Master Halcyon replied a tad stiffly.

"So it's not because you like me in any way, shape, or form?" Vader asked with a little smirk.

"No," Master Halcyon scowled.

"Just checking," Vader sighed, shifting a little to try and get more comfortable. "Do you like chaavi soup?"

"I don't know, I've never had any." Master Halcyon was starting to sound irritated.

"You should try it some time," Vader grinned. "Obi-Wan tried some of mine once. It was too spicy for him, though." He switched his fingertips to a different rhythm. "Is there anything interesting in the Bellthar System?"

"Aside from the Wandering Star, there are a few mining stations in the asteroid belt, but nothing else of note." Master Halcyon was really starting to sound irritated.

"That's too bad," Vader sighed. "Have you been to any particularly interesting places lately?"

"Do you always talk so much?" Master Halcyon grumbled.

"No. But I'm bored and I hurt and I'm tired, but not tired enough to sleep anymore, so I'm passing the time by talking." Vader replied with slightly strained cheerfulness.

"Wonderful," Master Halcyon sighed, rubbing his hands wearily over his face. "Just what I need."

"I'm sorry," Vader shrugged stiffly, his tone and the mischievous grin on his face showing just how sorry he really was.

"How does Master Kenobi put up with you?" Master Halcyon wondered, shaking his head.

"Maybe I'm just cuddly and loveable?" Vader suggested hopefully.

Master Halcyon looked so appalled at that idea that Vader couldn't help but laugh at his expression. The laughing, however, aggravated his raw throat and bruised ribs, making each chuckle turn into a stab of pain. Still it took a few minutes before he was able to stop.

"Nah, I think I stopped being cuddly around age nine and loveable around age thirteen." Vader wheezed, wincing in discomfort.

The Corellian Master still didn't seem all that amused, but it looked like he'd relaxed some. He glanced over at a chronometer and smiled with satisfaction. "Three minutes until we transition back to sublight speed. Thank the Force."

"Yippee," Vader coughed, then yawned.

"Don't fall asleep now," Master Halcyon warned. "You need to be conscious so the Healers can ask you where it hurts when they poke and prod you."

"Ugh," Vader groaned, "what fun!"

Nejaa Halcyon stood a silent vigil on the deck that contained the Bacta tanks. He leaned against a bulkhead, his eyes fixed on one tube in particular. He'd promised Obi-Wan he'd look after Vader, and that was exactly what he was doing.

The fluid in the tube was a greenish shade, a mixture of sticky Bacta fluid and powerful antibiotics. The Bacta would speed the healing of his many cuts and abrasions and the antibiotics would help destroy any infection. But this was only the first step.

After several days of soaking in this tube, Vader would be fished out for a date with some bone menders, devices that stimulated damaged bones into healing much faster than they normally would. It wasn't that any of his bones were broken, but several of Vader's ribs were severely bruises, and a few were even cracked. The bone menders would significantly cut down the healing time and the amount of time he'd be in pain from that.

Next his new prosthetic hand should be completed and would then be attached. Before he'd been dunked in the tank they'd taken measurements of his intact left hand and forearm so they could more accurately fabricate him a new right hand. Right now his old ruined prosthetic had been removed, leaving the stump of his arm bare, revealing the naked ends of his nerve implants and the two metal projections that jutted out of the remains of his radius and ulna bones.

And then after some recovery time, and assuming he suffered no setbacks or complications, he should be healed enough to be discharged. The most concrete estimate a Healer had given him as a timeframe for all of this was two to three weeks. He really didn't know what he was going to do with himself during that time.

A medical droid wandered over and took some readings on Vader's Bacta tube. Seemingly satisfied with what it found, it wandered off to check on its next patient. Nejaa shifted against the wall and sighed.

He really didn't know what to think of the young man who floated limply in the tube across from him. Years ago when he'd first encountered him it had been simple. Vader was a servant of the Darkness, an enemy, someone to not be trusted. But now…

Now things were complicated. The fact that he hadn't recognized Vader when he first appeared on Malaar was a testament to that. The thought that he, an experienced Jedi Master, couldn't tell the difference between a real Jedi Padawan and an imposter with a past in the Dark Side was deeply worrying.

On Malaar, Vader had been bold, coming to their rescue with clones, but without his Master. He'd also been competent to Nejaa's eye, explaining a simple plan with sound reasoning to Padawan Zevik. And he'd be brave to the point of foolishness in his final orders to his troops, to leave him behind if necessary.

That completely went against his recollections of a much younger Vader. He could close his eyes and easily picture the thin, scruffy teenager that he and Obi-Wan had dragged off the dark streets of Coronet. That boy had practically reeked of fear and Darkness, his eyes dark, untrusting, almost violent. That teenager had been clearly dangerous and untrustworthy. But things weren't that clear anymore.

His two very separate impressions of Vader clashed in his mind. There seemed no possible way that the Vader he saw now was the same one he'd met so long ago. How was it physically possible that this beat up twenty-one-year-old Padawan across from him had been that fearful, aggressive fifteen-year-old from Coronet?

Nejaa let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn't going to find any answers here with Vader beyond reach in that tube and deep in a healing trance. But perhaps he could weasel some answers out of the Jedi Council…

They owe me an explanation, Nejaa decided, pushing off the bulkhead in search of a comm station with the proper level of security encryption. Obi-Wan runs off with Vader and I never hear back from him about what happened. I've been wondering about this for years! They'd better talk…

Vader hung suspended, floating. It was cold, wet, and sticky. And dark, but only because he had his eyes closed. He kept them that way, not wanting to see. If he saw, saw the greenish fluid, he'd freak out. He knew he would. Because he's think that he was drowning, and he hated drowning, was terrified of it.

So he kept his eyes shut and his mind locked into a healing trance. The trance helped focus all his energies on healing, and when combined with the Bacta tank he was in, it accelerated his recovery even further. The trance also muted his physical sensations, making the floating-in-sticky-cold-fluid feeling seem distant, dream-like, and entirely tolerable.

But then something disturbed him. A pressure on his mind. Coaxing him to wake up, open his eyes, move. Vader refused to. He wouldn't wake up, snap out of it, until he was out of the cylindrical tube they'd submerged him in. However the mental touches that prodded at him also refused to leave him be.

Eventually he caved and did as he was asked. He opened his eyes, woke up, and fought the impulse to panic. Never mind that he had an oxygen mask firmly strapped to his face, he was 'underwater' and he didn't want to be.

A light grew bright over his head. Struggling not to hyperventilate, Vader tried to swim up. He was hampered by his sudden loss of his right hand, but someone was also pulling on him, so he made it to the surface. Trembling, coated in sticky sour-smelling goo, disoriented, and all but naked, Vader felt some measure of relief as he broke into open air a deck above where he'd just been.

Someone was nearby. A shape made blurry by the viscous Bacta fluid that ran into his eyes and the blinding lights that shone down from above. He was rubbed down carefully with soft towels and quickly wrapped in a plain bathrobe. The mask, embarrassing plastic shorts, and various little sensors were then peeled off his person and he was hoisted up onto a hover-stretcher.

As his vision slowly cleared, Vader identified the 'someone' as a Mon Calamari woman. Assisting her were a pair of silent medical droids, but they were boring so he ignored them. The Mon Calamarian was much more interesting.

She was a Jedi Healer, a Force-sensitive who focused her skills mainly on healing others instead of running around the galaxy enforcing justice. He also found her pretty for her species with her patterned salmon pink skin and large liquid silver eyes. And she was sort of familiar…

"Bant?" He croaked, wincing at how awful his voice sounded.

"Yes?" She turned slightly as she helped guide the floating hover-stretcher through the Med-Star's narrow, sterile corridors. Her silvery eyes were cloudy with fatigue and Vader wasn't sure if she realized who he was, or even if she remembered him at all.

"How long was I in the tank?" He asked meekly.

"Just under four days," she replied after quickly consulting his electronic charts.

Okay, she definitely hasn't recognized me, Vader decided. And she's probably too tired to wonder how the heck I know her name. He sighed and did his best to relax on the stretcher as he awaited his next medical treatment.

Bant led his stretcher into a room and parked it next to a stationary bed, bolted to the floor. She helped him get up, half-supporting him as his legs felt like jelly after floating in a tube for days and not actually eating anything for even longer. The two medical droids helped him into a loose pair of shorts, sterile hospital white, and a loose hospital gown, the kind that's always open in the back.

"Wait here," Bant murmured wearily and took the stretcher away, leaving him sitting on the bed by himself.

"Um, okay," Vader blinked as the two medical droids also exited the room.

Alone, he decided to take stock of himself. He was still starving. They'd given him a small bowl of nutrient broth before dunking him in the Bacta and then he'd survived on an intravenous line pumping nutrients straight into his blood while in the tank, but that was nothing really. His stomach was quite empty and he really hoped to get the chance to fill it soon.

He didn't itch anymore, which was a plus. All the evil bug bites he'd sustained on Malaar had been cured by the Bacta bath. As he studied his skin, he noted all the ugly bruises had faded significantly, only the really bad ones were still visible at all. And as he ran his left hand over his skin he found all the little cuts and abrasions were gone too. But when his hand got to his face, he felt something near his right eye.

Geez, is that a scar? He wondered, tracing the vertical line of rough skin that bordered the corner of his eye. I need a mirror.

Hey wait, he blinked. I can see out of my right eye! He grinned in giddy relief. Depth perception I have missed you!

But the cheer quickly wore off as his eye caught his right hand. Or, more accurately the limp sleeve where his hand should've been. He wasn't sure what was worse, the sight of it, or the feel of it, it still felt like he should have a hand there. I think I prefer to do this sedated, he cringed, longing to be put to sleep so he wouldn't have to be conscious and deal with this.

The smell of food hit his nose and quite effectively distracted him from his lack of a right hand. His head jerked up to see Bant returning with a hot steaming bowl of…something. He really didn't care what it was so long as it was edible and for him.

"Here we go young Padawan," Bant smiled, bringing the bowl over to him and carefully placing it in his lap. "Hopefully this should be enough for now."

I'm not young, I'm twenty…twenty-one! He thought a tad sourly, though he was more focused on the food. "Thanks," he grinned, awkwardly picking up the spoon with his left hand.

"You are very welcome." Bant nodded, moving back to give him some space.

Vader gleefully dug into the thick, almost paste-like, soup. It didn't taste much like anything and was probably just condensed nutrients and calories, but it was warm and it was food so he loved it. Eating it was kind of tricky, he wasn't a lefty and to keep the bowl from shifting he held it still with the inside of his right elbow. But he managed well enough and quickly found the bottom of the bowl.

"You were hungry," Bant commented in amusement, taking the empty bowl and spoon away and setting them aside.

"Yeah, it's been practically a week since I really ate anything." Vader sighed, wishing for just a little bit more.

"Really?" Bant frowned, concerned. "What happened to you?"

"Oh I was stranded on a jungle planet for a few days and hunted by Trandoshans." Vader shrugged casually, wincing a little as his still sore ribs protested the motion.

"Oh my goodness!" Bant blinked in alarm. "That's awful!"

"Yeah, I suppose," Vader sighed. "But hey, I'm still alive."

"Yes, you are." Bant agreed. Her expression turned thoughtful and she retrieved his charts to study again. "Oh my!" She gasped. "Padawan Vader?"

Ah, so now you know it's me, he smirked a little. "Yes?"

"Is Obi-Wan here?" She asked hopefully.

"Uh," Vader frowned in concentration for a moment. "No, he's still stuck by Muunilinst. Master Halcyon brought me here."

"Oh," Bant slumped a little, disappointed.

"He'll come when he can though," he added confidently.

"Good, I'll be looking forward to that." Bant smiled and gently pressed him back on the bed with her webbed hand. "Now relax," she ordered, pulling the top of his hospital gown down. "We'll get some bone mending units attached to you to fix up your ribs and tomorrow you should be ready for surgery."

"Surgery?" Vader frowned as the medical droids returned with the small boxy bone mending units. "What do I need surgery for?"

"You need some upgrades to your neural implants for your new prosthetic." Bant explained as she moved aside so that the droids could attach the units to Vader's skin and activate them. "The only way to do that is to do a quick surgery."

"Oh," Vader mumbled, cringing a bit when one of the droids pressed a bit too hard on his chest. "Do I need upgrades?"

"Well yes, if you want the newer model of prosthetic hand that's been developed." Bant replied. "Or do you prefer the old model?"

"What? No," Vader scowled. "Golden skeleton hands don't suit me."

"Alright then," Bant smiled, checking over the droids' work. "You should like your new hand then."

"Good," Vader relaxed, relieved.

"You should be all set," Bant murmured, making some notes on his chart. "Now just lay as still as you can. These units should have you as good as new in a few hours, the droids will come back to remove them. If you need anything there's a switch just over there," she indicated a little red button next to the bed. "Now I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks Bant, see you later!" He waved a little with his left hand.

Bant waved back and left the room, the medical droids trailing after her. Alone again, he did his best to settle back into the medical cot and tried to take a nap. But despite his more comfortable situation and condition, a lingering sense of loneliness wormed through him.

I'm bored Obi-Wan, hurry up and get here…

Nejaa wandered into Vader's assigned room bearing a tray laden with dinner. The past few days had been full of little but frustration, even boredom. Aside from a long-distance conversation with Master Yoda, all he'd done here was meditate and wander the corridors of the Wandering Star, peering into rooms where injured clones, Jedi, even some civilians were being treated. But maybe now that his temporary charge was out of the Bacta tank he would find something more satisfying to do with himself.

Vader was dozing peacefully on his plain medical cot. Nejaa noted an angry looking scar running along his right temple. It seemed that that particular wound had been so deep and infected that not even Bacta had been able to keep it from scarring over. Oh well, he's lucky he didn't die…

The young man's eyes suddenly snapped open, revealing startlingly blue orbs. "Is that for me?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes," Nejaa sighed, "it is." He almost reluctantly brought the tray over to the young man's bedside. "The best the mess hall has to offer. Enjoy."

Vader grinned and squirmed up into a sitting position so he could more easily devour his food. He clumsily stabbed away at his meal holding his fork in his left hand. With the tray balanced on his knees and helped stay in place with the truncated stump of his right arm, he shoveled in the mashed Atoran sweet potatoes, steamed miscellaneous vegetables, and the Nerf meat tetrazini at a pace that bordered on rude. Nejaa wondered if he had time to breathe in between bites.

"Are you chewing any of that?" Nejaa asked, feeling a little worried. He might not like Vader but he certainly didn't want him to choke.

Vader paused, chewed his current mouthful, and swallowed before answering. "Yes, mostly." He replied sheepishly.

"Well chew a bit more," Nejaa frowned. "I don't want to have to tell Master Kenobi that you choked to death while I was on watch."

"Yeah…that would be bad." Vader cringed and proceeded to eat a bit slower.

Nejaa shook his head and propped his shoulder against the nearby bulkhead as he continued to watch Vader consume his dinner. It was getting hard to really remember what it was like to be that young. He hated to admit it, but it was true. I'm starting to get old…

"Thank you Master Halcyon." Vader sighed, carefully setting the tray aside with his remaining hand.

"You're welcome." Nejaa nodded.

"So did I miss anything while I was in that tube?" Vader asked curiously.

"No, not really." Nejaa sighed. He resettled his cloak over his shoulders, smoothing out a few slight wrinkles before speaking again. "So how are you feeling?"

"Better, much better." Vader smiled a little settling back on his bed. "I'll feel great when I get my new hand tomorrow. Looking at this…stump…is really starting to creep me out." He cringed as he glanced at the limp sleeve of his hospital bathrobe.

"Well this'll be the second time for you with this so you know it's not too bad." Nejaa muttered awkwardly, hoping to be somewhat reassuring.

"Last time I was hand-less I was kept under by the Force or by sedatives." Vader grumped. "One moment I had my arm chopped off and I was knocked out, the next thing I remember was waking up with an ugly golden skeletal thing grafted onto me. It was all rather traumatic."

"Oh," Nejaa rubbed the back of his neck.

There was a lengthy pause that Vader hesitantly decided to break. "Hey Master Halcyon?"

"Hmm?" Nejaa grunted questioningly.

"There's a scar on my face, right?" Vader anxiously pointed towards the fresh scar near his eye.

"Yes," Nejaa answered slowly.

"Is it bad?" Vader asked worriedly.

Nejaa fought the sudden impulse to laugh. "No, not really. Though," he scratched his chin thoughtfully, "you look a little more like a pirate than a Padawan."

"A pirate?" Vader frowned in confusion.

"Yes, especially with your braid missing." Nejaa confirmed.

"Huh?" Vader squeaked, his left hand darting upward to check for himself. "Will I get in trouble?"

"No," Nejaa chuckled a little. "You won't get in trouble. Padawans sometimes lose their braids early on accident, they just have to grow a new one is all." He tilted his head slightly as he studied the young man. "Though at your age, it's a little embarrassing to have to do that."

"Oh boy," Vader grumbled sarcastically, sulkily crossing his arms over his chest. "I always have the best luck."

"There's no such thing as luck," Nejaa corrected.

"I know, I know, it's just an expression." Vader scowled down at his toes at the end of his cot.

"It's not one the Jedi use," Nejaa pointed out.

"Right," Vader sighed and then yawned.

Nejaa glanced over at a chronometer and noted the time. "It's getting late," he remarked, scooping up Vader's used tray. "I'll leave you alone so you can sleep."

"Thanks Master Halcyon," Vader murmured gratefully. "Good night."

"Good night," Nejaa replied, leaving the room and heading towards the mess hall to return the used mail tray.

As Nejaa navigated the labyrinth of corridors towards the Wandering Star's mess hall, he considered what he'd learned from Vader, and from his conversation with Master Yoda. The ancient Jedi Master had many interesting things to tell him when he'd called a few days ago. And now, after his visit with Vader he was starting to believe at least some of what Yoda had told him.

The young man had definitely changed. He was certainly physically older than he had been when he and Nejaa had first met. And he seemed more – well, for lack of a better word, more normal. He behaved very much like a Jedi his age would in his situation, worrying about how disfiguring his new scar was and so on.

Yoda also believed him to be more mature, though Nejaa wasn't entirely ready to agree on that count. Nor was he ready to completely believe that Vader was loyal to the Jedi Order, more specifically Obi-Wan himself. But for now, he decided to give Vader the benefit of the doubt.

After he deposited the used tray in the proper receptacle in the mess hall, he headed for his temporary quarters. The day had been a long one and though he wasn't really tired, sleep would help bring the next day on faster. And perhaps he would be fortunate and have nice dreams while he slept.

But for hours, sleep eluded him. It was an uncomfortably common problem these days for him. Unless he was exhausted both physically and mentally, sleep wouldn't come quickly.

I miss Mina, he sighed into his pillow. Maybe after this I can go back to Corellia and see her again. I hope…

Vader slowly drifted back to consciousness, fighting some odd haze in his mind. For a while he was confused, he couldn't recall anything he'd done recently, or where he was. But as it slowly filtered back to him, he remembered that he was on a Med-Star and that he had surgery coming up.

No…no wait… I've already had the surgery, he realized. They put me under before I could eat any breakfast. His eyes opened and glared at the sterile white ceiling with sleepy annoyance. Hey…

"You're awake," A kind voice, Bant, cheerfully remarked.

"Yeah," Vader croaked, his mouth and tongue felt thick and clumsy from the lingering sedatives. "Do I get breakfast now?"

"In a few minutes after you wake up a little bit more," she laughed.

"Okay," Vader agreed a little sullenly. He was starting to feel how hungry he was.

"Let's see if you can sit up," Bant suggested.

Vader sighed but obeyed, slowly propping himself up and blinking away a slight dizzy spell. He glanced down to see his right arm was now the proper length, but his new prosthetic was hidden under a bulky wrap of gauzy bandages. He glanced questioningly up at Bant.

"So did everything go okay?" He asked worriedly. Why the bandages?

"Yes," Bant smiled. "The gauze is more to keep it clean and healthy post-surgery, but they aren't really necessary. In fact," she reached down and started to unravel the wrappings, "let's just take them off now."

Vader watched with interest and some anxiety as the strips were carefully unwound. Bit by bit, shiny silver-gray durasteel was revealed instead of the gaudy brassy-gold of his prosthetic. By the time all the gauze was removed, Vader decided he liked what he saw.

Instead of imitating the skeletal structure of his lost hand, it looked more like the complete hand he'd lost. Its dimensions matched those of his left arm exactly, the only difference being that they had been flipped to create a new right hand. The only way it could look more life-like was if it had some sort of synth-skin covering that matched his skin tone.

He found the appearance of his new appendage a vast improvement over the old one. But the point of the surgery was to upgrade his implants so that it would function better too. Now it was time to test it.

Experimentally he tried to make a fist and the hand responded. He had a little bit of a déjà vu feeling as the hand prickled uncomfortably, bringing to mind his early experiences with the older skeletal model. But thankfully it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been then, and hopefully it would clear up quickly. He didn't want to spend months rehabilitating himself again.

"Now this hand I like," Vader grinned in satisfaction, curling and uncurling his fist, ignoring the pins-and-needles sensations.

"I'm glad," Bant laughed softly. "Now how does it feel?"

"A little tingly," Vader shrugged, "but nothing terrible."

"Good, now I'll be back with some breakfast..." She glanced up at the chronometer. "Well, lunch," she amended. "You just sit tight."

"Yes ma'am!" Vader jokingly saluted with his new hand.

Bant shook her head at his antics and exited. Vader laid back with a pleased grin. Things were really looking up. Maybe by the time Obi-Wan got here, he'd be ready to be released.

"Oh, you're awake now?" Someone asked, catching Vader's attention.

He turned his head to see Master Halcyon peering inside. "Yep."

"So how's the new hand?" Master Halcyon inquired curiously, still standing in the doorway.

"It's good," Vader answered. "You can come in if you want."

Master Halcyon nodded and slipped inside to sit on one of the two chairs provided for any visitors. Vader noted that the Master appeared tired, like he hadn't slept enough for a few nights. He rubbed his cool robotic hand over the back of his neck as he shifted into a cross-legged sitting position.

"Are you…okay?" Vader asked hesitantly.

"Hmm?" Master Halcyon blinked. "Yes, why do you ask?"

"You look tired." Vader shrugged.

"Oh, well I'm fine." Master Halcyon grumbled, looking a bit irritated.

"Okay," Vader easily dropped the subject.

Things would've fallen into an uncomfortable silence, except that Bant returned with breakfast. "Oh hello Master Halcyon," Bant blinked as she passed Vader the breakfast tray.

"Hello Healer Eerin." Master Halcyon greeted.

"How are you doing?" Bant asked politely. "You look tired," she noted.

"Sometimes sleep is hard to come by." Master Halcyon shrugged evasively.

Bant accepted the answer easily enough. "So how's your breakfast?" She asked, turning to Vader.

"Good," Vader grinned.

It was a little tricky to eat the bowl of oatmeal, laced with anonymous chunks of fruit. His new hand didn't grip the same as his old one did so it took a little experimenting to figure out how to hold his spoon without dropping it, but he managed well enough.

"Wonderful," Bant smiled. "Oh, and I've heard some news." She added, remembering something. "In a few days we'll be moving to Corellia to re-supply."

"Really?" Master Halcyon perked up considerably.

"Yes," she nodded. "That's what the crew's been talking about."

Vader raised a curious eyebrow at Master Halcyon's sudden change in mood at the news. He seemed quite excited to go home after doing a great deal of nothing. In his experience, Jedi weren't all that excited to go 'home' after an assignment, even a difficult one, just relieved. Vader sensed some hidden motivation for returning to Corellia in Master Halcyon. But what could it be?

When he'd scraped the last traces of oatmeal from his bowl, he moved on to the plain muffin and Shaak bacon that came with it. As he ate, slower than he would've liked on account of his new hand, he pondered possible reasons that Master Halcyon had for wanting to be home. Not knowing the man all that well, he wasn't really able to come up with anything he thought was realistic.

The instant he was done, Bant retrieved his used tray. "Is that enough?" She asked politely.

"Yes, thank you." Vader replied, settling back comfortably.

"Good," Bant nodded, heading for the door. "If you need anything else, just call. I have other patients requiring my attention."

"Bye," Vader waved after her cheerfully.

As Bant disappeared, Master Halcyon took note of Vader's shiny new appendage. "So that's your new hand?"

"Mm-hm," Vader smirked, admiring it again. "It's so much better than the last one."

"It's rather shiny." Master Halcyon pointed out.

"But it's not gold." Vader countered. "Plain old gray durasteel I can deal with just fine. And it doesn't look like it was ripped off a skeleton either."

"True," Master Halcyon conceded.

Silence fell then as Master Halcyon seemed to let his mind drift off. Vader took advantage of the lengthy pause to think. Though this time instead of pondering the mystery of Master Halcyon's desire to return to Corellia, he considered the Corellian Master in general.

Master Halcyon seemed to have loosened up a bit since they'd last met years ago in Coronet. He wasn't quite as openly hostile as he'd been then. In fact he was almost nice.

He's really not all that bad, Vader decided.

The Jedi Master suddenly came back to the present. "So, do you like flying?" He asked curiously.

Vader grinned mischievously. "Why yes I do…"

Obi-Wan sighed in relief as he entered his cabin aboard the Star Destroyer Valiant. The room felt rather empty with Vader missing. But he was leaving here today anyway.

He had finally been released from supervising the operations on Muunilinst and now could catch up with his injured charge. It had taken over a week, which was far too long, but now things had settled down enough for him to leave. And he was more than happy to leave this star system far behind him.

The Jedi Master emptied out the two storage bins in preparation for his imminent departure. The top bin held his clothes and things, the bottom one held Vader's things. As he packed his Padawan's bag, he noticed something that made him shake his head.

Unless Vader had anymore Jedi robes back on Coruscant, which Obi-Wan doubted he did, this was his last complete, wearable set left. So as soon as possible, it seemed he'd be escorting the young man down to the tailors to pick up some more clothes. It wouldn't do for Vader to be wandering around only partly dressed because he'd ruined all his other robes.

Oh well, Obi-Wan sighed as he finished packing both bags. I'm out of here, he smiled a little as he settled the bags over his shoulders. His cabin cleared out, he left the room behind and headed for the hanger bay and the shuttle that would take him to the Med-Star ship, the Wandering Star…