Chapter XIX - Pretending to Be a Sith (Ashara)

The morning was uneventful, which was a nice change of pace. I checked the mender and it had repaired the sleeve on Tishmaly's shirt, though it wasn't as exact as the other repairs had been. Still, if you didn't know that two inches of material were missing before it would be difficult to pick out the repaired area. I set the machine to patch a hole in her black slacks and then spent time meditating in the Force. About mid-morning I heard noises outside and looked through the front windows to see the soldiers doing an equipment check with Captain Mordon barking orders. I was glad I wasn't in the army and happy to ignore the angry captain.

After lunch, Drary contacted me and told me that they were going to attempt to establish a link to Commander Trey since we had been out of radio contact due to the rock walls around us. I thought it was a bad idea, but the soldiers went ahead with the plan anyway, saying they had a state-of-the-art laser communication link that could not be detected. I went back to my Jedi training, feeling that it would help me calm myself. It was working, right up until the moment Drary pinged my com again, saying he had some important information to tell me. He hung up before I could tell him to just explain it over the com. Frustrated, but not wanting to make the sergeant knock, I walked over to open the hatch. Once again, the dank smelly air whooshed into the ship as the seal was broken and made my nose wrinkle up. Drary was just walking over so I stepped down the ramp to meet him at the bottom.

He gave me a grin as he approached. "So, we got the com link established. Commander Trey was a little annoyed when our receiver droid showed up outside his window, but it's all good."

"You sent a droid to the Commander's office?" I asked in surprise.

"Well, sure. I mean the laser's gotta land somewhere, right? Anyway, I came to tell you that the link has been established and everything is okay at the medical bay. I thought you might wanna know about your friend."

"Thank you."

"No probs. So, look, I wanna run some interference for my boss."

"Oh, well, he's treated me pretty rudely," I stated as my eyes looked past the sergeant's shoulder at the soldiers' ship. The team seemed to be on brake, with some of the men sitting on the ship's ramp and another one laying on top between the folded wings.

"Yeah . . . he's not great with first impressions, and maybe not second or third ones either, but he's not a bad guy."

"I don't have anything to judge him by except his attitude."

"Right," Drary nodded, "and that's fair. I ain't tellin' you to ignore facts. It's just that my whole team is a little rough around the edges. We have been trained to kill people with efficiency, after all."

"Why are you saying this, Drary?" I was trying not to be suspicious, but his attitude was making me nervous.

"I . . . I mean we don't want to make enemies of you or your friend." Drary shifted his feet and looked away. "Cap makes enemies, and it causes us trouble. He's riding you pretty hard, and I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

"If he told you to talk to me . . ."

"Oh no," the sergeant raised his hand and shook it in front of me, "he don't know about this, and if he did he'd prolly kill me."

"Well, he's made his feelings clear, and I'm fine with that," I replied flatly.

"You are?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow. "Is that like . . . A good 'fine with'?"

"I've decided I don't like him either, and your whole team for that matter."

"Oh," Drary sighed. "That don't sound like the good 'fine'."

"It's not like I'm going to make trouble, but it seems we're better off keeping our distance."

"So, then the idea of inviting you over for dinner with us is a bad one?"

"What?" I chirped in surprise.

"Yeah, I mean . . . you gotta eat . . . and we gotta eat, so it makes sense in a sorta way."

"Really? I mean your captain hates me, and at least half of your team was sneering at me earlier. Do you think any of them want my company?"

"It sounded good in my head, but when you put it that way . . ."

"I'm so sick of military food," I grumbled. "Are you eating the same MREs and snack bars that I am?"

"Probably," he answered sadly. "I was just thinking that if you a Cap got to know each other just a little bit, you might torch the totem."

"Torch the what?"

"War totem. It's a figure of speech, on Dromund Kaas there were ancient tribes who carved war totems to get the god's favor when they went to war. When they made peace, they would ceremonially burn the war totems . . . sort of a way to mend relations."

"I've got no 'war totem' for the captain, I just don't want to deal with it right now. I don't need the hassle."

"Hassle," the sergeant said softly, "ouch."

"Sorry, Drary, but you know the way the captain has treated me . . . what is he doing?" While I was talking, I noticed a burst of flame rise from the top of the ship where the soldier was laying.

Drary looked over his shoulder. "Oh, that's Grigs, he's huffing.

"Huffing? What in galaxies is that?"

"He burns dried leaves and inhales them, picked up the habit while stationed on a remote world near Hutt space."

"That sounds disgusting," I said with a wrinkled face. "Why would he want to do something like that?"

"He says it soothes him, but it does smell pretty bad. I think Grigs is coocoo, you know." Drary made a funny face at me. "You don't want nuthin' to do with him, he's the rabid gundark of the team, off-the-chain nuts if you ask me. He's up there 'cause he don't like people, you know, a loner. He can't talk very well either, took a shot to his throat a while back and it messed up his voice. Now he mostly nods and growls with a gravely, guttural sound more like an animal than a human."

"That sounds sad," I said aloud as I gazed over at the man as he puffed another flame out above his face.

"Could be, I guess. No one knows too much about him 'cause he keeps to himself, but I'll tell you one thing. There ain't anyone else on the team I'd pick to pair up with over him. Grigs is the meanest, nastiest one on the team by far. If there's a dirty or dangerous job to do, Grigs assumes it's his. There's no debate or drawing straws. The man simply grabs what he needs and walks off to do what has to be done. Cap'n really leans on Grigs, the whole team does."

"Sounds like he might have a death wish."

"I don't know about that. I'm just glad he's on my side. You know, one time there was a guy named Scriver on our team; new guy to the unit. No one was real sure of him. He had beady and shifty eyes . . . you know the type. Anyway, one time Scriver talks some of the guys into throwing bones," the sergeant paused when he saw my expression, "tossing dice, an odds game. So, the betting goes on, and soon people are losing money to Scriver. He's got a pretty good stack of credits piling up, and the thing about gambling is . . . do you gamble?" He paused to let me shake my head. "When you gamble and lose money, it makes you mad, so most guys double down to get their money back. That's when the losing starts to go big.

"So, at some point, Beggar and Tealy start to arguing with this guy. We don't have Begger anymore. He went down in a fight on Balmorra. Left a hole in the team . . . we still miss him. Anyway, the guys are suspicious, something doesn't seem right, you know, and things start to get heated. Suddenly, out of a dim corner strolls Grigs. No one knew he was even there before he appears." Sergeant Yoms looked over at the figure on the ship opposite us. "He moves right up to the table and quicker than you can flinch he whips out his knife and, wham! slams it down on the table. Guys jump back, some tumbling outta their seats, and there's a sort of 'oh shit' moment where everyone's stunned. But then it gets worse, cause Grigs dropped his knife down on one of the dice, splittin' it clean, and wouldn't you know, right in the middle was a metal weight.

"The damn dice were rigged, and somehow Grigs knew it. Well, any other time there'd be a free for all 'cause no one likes getting cheated, but with Grigs standing there, nobody moved except Scriver, who backed to a wall with his beady eyes gone so big and twitching around I thought they'd fall out of his head. He went white as a freshly made slip of paper, like all of the blood in his veins simply vanished. I was watching Grigs close, 'cause I know his mannerisms and was wonderin' if I should run to the Cap'n. He stood there stoically, but with fists clenched so tight, you could see every strip of muscle on his forearm. I was sure he was gonna kill Scriver, everyone was. Grigs didn't even look down at the table to inspect the dice; just stared at Scriver like the grim reaper ready to collect a soul. Then he growled like stones tumblin' around in a bin and Scriver almost crumpled to the floor."

"What happened," I asked after a long pause.

"Well, Scriver starts whimpering, 'I had no idea,' he says, 'honest.' No one bought it, least of all Grigs, so Scriver quickly starts handing all the credits back, then divvies up his money to the others too, all the while mumbling that he didn't know the dice were rigged. With nothin' left to give, Scriver then raised his hands for mercy. 'Were all good,' he mumbled, 'see, everyone's whole.' Then Grigs reached out, pulled his knife out of the table he gouged it into, turned, and walked out. Cool as a cucumber. Two days later Scriver was transferred out of the unit. He begged Cap for the transfer, convinced that it was only a matter of time before Grigs killed him." The sergeant chuckled to himself. "He was like a Wobani nightbird those two days, craning his neck around hundred and eighty degrees to watch his back."

While the sergeant was finishing his story, I heard scuffling on the ground and looked over to see Captain Mordon walking toward us. "Sergeant," he huffed, "break's over. I want a report filed on that direct com link you set up, and I want to talk to the commander."

"Sure thing, Cap'n," Drary replied as he straightened up from leaning against my ship. "I was just making sure our fellow captive was okay," he poked his thumb toward me.

"She can handle herself," the captain grumbled as he made eye contact with me, "she's a Sith." His words turned bitter at the last. "I've got Tealy and Arvs pulling gear to scout down the tunnel a ways. I'd like to know if there's another way out. Go with them and report back."

"Yes, Sir," the sergeant said with a nod toward me before he walked off.

The captain glanced over his shoulder at the receding sergeant before looking back at me. "He'll talk your ears off . . . if you've got any," he added as he eyed my lekku.

"I've got ears," I replied sharply.

He gave me a funny look and then turned to walk away.

I went back into the ship and shut the door. Pez was floating nearby and watching me with his red eye. "Is there any way you can get the ship to scrub the smell out of the air faster?"

"Dweep-click-warble-zwip," the droid rattled off a slew of sounds.

I had no idea what he said, but the sound of air moving did seem to intensify after I walked to the kitchen counter and flipped open the cabinets. Talking about dinner made me realize that I was hungry. "Did you think that conversation was weird?" I asked idly as I rummaged through the unappetizing packages hoping for something different. I didn't expect the droid to answer but was sort of just thinking out loud.

Beep-twibble-zwip-duooh," Pez replied in a softer tone.

I gave him a funny glance. He had to know I didn't understand him. "The captain was really rude. I don't like him at all."

"Zwip-twang," the droid toned more harshly.

"Exactly!" I replied, not knowing what he meant, but liking Pez' emphasis. "I mean, for all he knows I'm a really powerful Sith Lord who could have him demoted or even kicked out of the military. He should treat me better."

"Beep-boop," Pez nodded in agreement, swishing back and forth next to me.

"Drary seems to understand. At least he's trying to make amends." I pulled out an MRE and began to open the package. "I think he likes me," I stated softly.

"Dweep?" Pez's tone rose as in a question.

"Well, I don't know that for sure. He seems to be a talker, so maybe he sees me as a new person to talk to." I shoved the container in the food processor and turned it on. "Still, he had that sort of awkward posture guys do when they try to hide their feelings."

"Bleep-zwip-twang," Pez responded.

"Hey, now the sergeant isn't that bad."

"Duooh," the droid shook his frame slowly and drifted toward the hatch.

"I know, soldiers can be problematic, but at least he's trying." I had no idea if I was having a real conversation with the floating droid, but it did help me get some of the confusing thoughts out of my brain. The meal was ready and I sat down to an unfulfilling meal. A little more than an hour passed after I finished my dinner when the ship's com chimed. It could only be the soldiers next door, and I was reluctant to answer. To my surprise, it was the captain.

"There's a problem, Sith, get out here." His voice was tense and commanding, which made me freeze a moment after he cut the com. Was I the problem? Were we going to have a fight or something? My mind spun as I looked back at Pez. I had to go out there. It would look like I was hiding if I didn't, so I decided to put on a tough and confident front as the hatch swept open and the ramp dropped to the ground. The soldiers were in a group in front of their ship, and their faces looked anxious. I walked up as strongly as could and stared back into the captain's eyes when he spun to look at me.

"The commander's moving your friend," he stated flatly when I was close enough, "there's an inspection team on its way from orbit." I blinked at him while my mind tried to comprehend the statement he just made and he continued. "Things could get real ugly if they come snooping around down here, 'cause we're not going without a fight."

"Commander Trey foresaw this," I replied, "he had a plan."

"Shit!" the captain spat as he stepped away, "everybody's got plans, Sith, and they all amount to nothing after the fighting starts. If I'm searching for someone in a place like this, I'm looking in the mining tunnels. They'll come down here, or at least send droids."

"When is Tishmaly going to be here?" I asked.

"Tishma what?" he barked.

"My friend?"

"Any minute now, the commander's known for some time and only now decided to warn us."

"Maybe he didn't want us to overreact," I replied flatly.

"Overreact," the captain hissed as he spun on me.

"Cap," I heard Drary say softly behind him.

"I'm in this mess because of you, and all you can say is that I'm overreacting?"

"I had nothing to do with your orders, Captain." I was talking tough, but my stomach was in knots.

We stared at each other hard for a moment before a voice up the tunnel called out. "Something's coming, Cap."

We all looked to where the voice had called. Lights were moving on the rough stone walls and the ground started to rumble softly. A crawler was coming. The soldiers moved out in a pattern that they were well trained in, some of them drawing weapons and targeting the oncoming lights. Thankfully, no one opened fire, and the crawler was friendly. There was some yelling and scurrying as the crawler rolled up and mine workers came out of the bed and began unloading equipment. I made my way toward them and noticed the doctor's head pop up over the crawler's side. They had taken the entire bacta-tank, unbolted it from the floor, put it on a cargo lift with a portable generator and whatever electrical equipment it needed, and sent it into the mine. Doctor Nbyang looked livid and hovered over her medical equipment when it finally touched the ground. I moved over to see if I could help her, and she recognized my presence with a nod before continuing to scan the monitors. The mine workers brought two smaller grav-lifts with crates on them and began unloading materials. Soon they had a makeshift hatch set up on one side of the triage platform, and a few minutes later they started up an energy shield that surrounded the bacta-tank, medical equipment, and us. I started unloading medical supplies out of a box and putting them on a shelf one of the workers had erected.

"Put those on the top shelf please," the doctor said sharply before turning back to working on the medical controls.

"Is everything all right?" I asked nervously, looking at Tishmaly floating in the tank.

"Of course not," the doctor hissed, "no one should be expected to complete complicated medical procedures in conditions like this."

"I mean with Tishmaly," I added.

Doctor Nbyang stopped and looked at me, a little of the sharpness fading from her eyes before she glanced at her patient in the tank. "She's okay, but her neurochemistry is off and I'm having trouble keeping her sedated, it's like she's fighting to get out of the tank." I watched the figure floating in the tank, her dark curls of hair drifting gently back and forth. There was tension in the Force around her when I reached out with my mind. "Commander Trey wanted to take her out of the tank," the doctor went on, "but she's not ready yet."

"Thank you," I replied, "for doing your best for her."

"This is not my best," the doctor corrected, "only the best I could do in the circumstances." Her eyes swept around the makeshift medical tent angrily.

"How much longer will her healing take?"

"She needs at least another day in the tank. The arm has been regrown, but the delicate work of repairing nerves and muscular control has only just begun."

"It's amazing that so much can be accomplished in only a few days." I looked at the medical sleeve over Tishmaly's arm, trying to see through the mesh-like material at the arm underneath.

"The cellular structure has been restored. That's what bacta does well, but the healing process is going to take much longer. It might be months, if ever before she has strength and feeling back in her hand. This was a bad injury, with a large section of material lost. I would not be surprised if your friend has lasting or permanent impairment."

The doctor went back to working on her medical consoles and I stared at Tishmaly for a bit longer. What would things be like when she was awakened? How would she react to such news? My mind drifted over those thoughts before shifting to wonder how I would react. After all, I was a Jedi, wielding a lightsaber. It could have been me with that injury.

Arguing echoed through the open hatch when a worker stepped through to bring more boxes and I looked past the shimmering shield to see Captain Mordon and his men having a heated discussion with the mining crew. I glanced at the doctor, who was busy, and decided to go and find out what was happening. Outside the medical tent, the mine workers were boarding the crawler, which had shifted around and was facing back up the tunnel.

"I'm done talking to you," the head of the crew said sharply to the captain as I walked up. "We did our job . . . we're leaving."

"You don't just walk away from me," the captain snapped.

A worker walked up and handed his boss a tablet before hurrying away. The man turned back to us and lifted the tablet. "If you've got a problem, speak to the commander." The tablet came to life and a holo-image of Commander Trey appeared above it. The crew boss held the tablet out for the captain to take, but he refused. After a moment, I reached out and took it instead. Once free of the device, the mine worker turned and walked away.

"Ah, Captain," the commander's voice came through the tablet.

"What the hell's going on," Captain Mordon complained, "your crew said something about blocking off the tunnel."

"Yes, well, you mentioned yourself in our last discussion that any inspection team would likely search the tunnels, so . . ."

"Of course, they will," the captain cut him off, "so we need to get out of here." The crawler started rumbling away as the captain spoke, and his face shifted from surprise and confusion to anger.

"It's too late for that, captain. The inspection team is almost here."

"You son of a bitch!" Captain Mordon yelled, "get that crawler back here!"

"You're safer where you are. All of you."

"We're sitting ducks, with no cover or room to maneuver."

"You won't need it, captain, trust me."

"They'll search the tunnels, man, I already told you that."

"Not your tunnel," the commander replied with a sly face.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I assume you felt the tremor earlier, well it caused a cave-in in a less stable area of the mine . . ."

"Cave in! You said we were safe down here?"

"Please," the commander lifted his holographic hand toward the captain, "you are quite safe, captain. Your section of mine has been stable for years. I was simply stating that we had a cave-in for reference."

"Please tell me there is a point to this?" the captain complained.

"Of course. We are going to collapse a section of your tunnel."

"What!"

"Yes, make it impassable, that way the inspection team won't find you."

"Shit!" the captain lost it, looking around at his men and me without being able to speak.

"You'll be quite safe," the commander continued, "I assure you. The base computer has calculated the available air in the mine, your ships' energy capacities, and your life support supplies. You could last weeks without requiring support, and our mining equipment will be able to clear the tunnel in a few hours. I thought it was an ingenious plan."

"That's because you're not the one stuck in the mine, genius!" the captain snapped.

"Regardless," the commander's image looked offended, "this is the way it will have to be, captain." As he spoke, several detonations went off, causing the tunnel to shake with dust and pebbles falling from the ceiling. Some of the spec ops team went running up the tunnel with their headlamps flitting back and forth across the rock walls. The tablet flickered and went dark, its connection to the mining complex severed.

"I'm gonna kill that guy," the captain mumbled as he turned and marched off after his men.

I went back into the medical tent and helped the doctor finish setting up her things. Pebbles fell and struck the shield over our heads now and then with a hiss of energy, bringing my mind back to the fact that I was deep underground, and now trapped. The notion that we were trapped behind a wall of rubble added to my unease. I stocked the shelf with the rest of the medical supplies while the doctor set up a small cot and seemed to sort through her personal effects. There were some small folding chairs inside one of the crates so I set them up and sat down near the tank for a moment. The doctor had just finished arranging her items and walked over to the medical console when the portal opened and Captain Mordon stepped through with Sergeant Yoms.

"They did it, all right. The bastards caved the roof in on the tunnel about four hundred yards from us." He stepped up to where I was sitting and seemed to scowl at me. "You don't care?" he huffed when neither the doctor nor I responded.

"What do you want me to say," the doctor turned to look at him, "there weren't very many options."

"You do realize that we're trapped in here, right? My men scouted to the end of this tunnel, there's no way out."

The doctor seemed to tense. "I don't want to be here either, my patient doesn't deserve to be treated recklessly like this, and I'm sure Lord Zavros would prefer to be somewhere else. We're all in the same boat, Captain." Her voice wavered on the edge of control.

The captain looked between the doctor and me. Drary stepped up by the captain's side and made him glance over at his subordinate. "Sorry," the captain finally sighed. "I don't know how to react to being buried in a mine. It's never happened to me before."

"For what it's worth, I'm just as frustrated and angry as you," the doctor replied as she went back to looking over her monitors, "it's just that I haven't slept well in over thirty hours and I don't have the energy to react like you." As she finished speaking a small tremor shuddered the floor and made more pebbles fall on the shield from the ceiling. Everyone looked up uneasily.

"Shit!" the captain swore as he turned and left.

After the men exited, I looked back at Doctor Nbyang, feeling an appreciation for her efforts to help Tishmaly. "Can I watch anything for you so that you can get some rest?"

"There's nothing to watch. Now that everything's set up and her vitals are stable, I can take a nap."

"I can listen for any changes or alerts."

"Thanks, but it will wake me up anyway. You're welcome to stay, but I'm not likely to be much company." She spoke as she turned and went to the small stand next to her cot.

I decided to give her some privacy and headed back to the ship. Inside, I had a small snack and then turned in myself. In the past, I would have told people that I was open to experiencing new things, and I didn't feel that my nature was fearful or cautious, but several more tremors shook the ship as I lay in bed and I could feel a sense of panic growing inside me. I found that caves with earthquakes weren't my thing. It took a long time for my mind to settle enough for sleep.

I slept fitfully after I finally fell asleep, and woke up periodically over the next eight and a half hours. There was nothing scheduled, so once up I took my time with my morning routine, but eventually, Pez grew anxious to go back to his master, making some noises and hovering near the hatch. I hurried through a quick breakfast of energy bar and nutrition drink before putting on my coat and picking up my lightsaber belt. I lifted my lightsaber from the counter and weighed the hilt in my hand for a moment. For some reason, my eyes drifted to Tishmaly's weapon which was on the counter nearby. Reflexively, I reached my hand out and picked it up. My hilt was heavier, and the grip a little longer and thicker. Her hilt was dark with crimson threads colored into the metal around the emitter shroud and a section of the hilt.

I could feel the crystal within her hilt resonating in the Force. It was very different than mine. Impulsively, I flicked on both weapons next to each other. With a whoosh of energy, the blue and red blades filled the air in front of me.

"Dweep!" Pez chirped as he drifted back from me.

"It's okay," I soothed, "I'm just comparing our lightsabers." I held the two shimmering blades up next to each other while examining the blades. Tishmaly's was shorter and thinner than mine, but the red energy beam seemed denser and more energetic. The hum of her blade was more high-pitched than mine. The two weapons did not sing well together. After a moment's hesitation, I flicked the weapons off and set Tishmaly's back down on the counter. As I fastened my hilt into its belt clip, I couldn't help thinking that it had been over a day since I ignited it in my hand.

Pez seemed to visibly relax after the weapons were put away, if that's possible for a droid, though his little eye continued to watch me suspiciously as we left the ship and headed to the medical tent.

"Good morning," I replied as we stepped into the medical tent. Pez drifted over to the tank and shifted back and forth as his eye observed his master's floating form.

"I don't know, is it morning?" the doctor mumbled.

"That's what the clock on my ship says," I replied as I walked over to where she was standing.

The doctor was looking at a holographic image of Tishmaly's forearm hovering over the medical console. It was see-through, like a nuclear scan, with the internal features highlighted in different colors. The doctor turned the image slowly with her fingers, looking carefully at the details.

"That is amazing," I sighed as I looked over at the medical sleeve over Tishmaly's forearm.

"Yes," the doctor replied thoughtfully, "and I like what I'm seeing."

"Where?" I asked as I leaned in.

She glanced at me with a clinical eye before turning back to the image. "These small filaments," she said as she pointed to the thin orange lines in the image, "look much better than they did yesterday."

I could see the repaired portion of the arm; it appeared as a lighter and more translucent part of the image. "What are the orange lines?"

"That is the nerve structure of the arm, and the light pink is the veins. The bone density of the repair is sufficient, but I want to give the nerves and capillary network time to mature. We'll take her out later this afternoon."

"Is it complicated to get someone out?"

"Not complicated, but involved. I could use your help."

"Of course," I nodded. She began to focus on adjusting some settings on the console, so I moved away and sat down in one of the chairs. Outside I could hear some loud talking and through the shimmering shield, shadows began to move around the Spec Ops' ship. "Did you get something to eat?" I asked to be polite.

"Yes, thank you."

"Was it better than military MREs?"

"Unfortunately not," she chuckled. "I'm eating the same rations as you."

"I wonder if the inspection went okay, up in the mining complex?"

"I would assume so," the doctor replied. "At least we weren't invaded by stormtroopers last night."

"True," I sighed.

The doctor and I talked for a while longer before I headed back to the ship to train. Drary called over the coms just after lunch to see how I was doing. Everyone seemed on edge about news from the surface. I tended to agree with the doctor. If the commander had been somehow compromised the inspection team would have come into the tunnels last night. Still, I couldn't shake the apprehension of being stuck in the cave, and my mood was darkening. I meditated in the Force and did some physical training in the afternoon to pass time. My stomach was beginning to tell me it was dinner time when the com chimed. It was Doctor Nbyang and she wanted my help getting Tishmaly out of the tank. I hurried over to the medical tent, passing the soldiers who appeared to be on break.

Stepping through the portal into the medical tent, I noticed that the doctor had already prepared Tishmaly for removal. The mechanical support that was suspending her had moved her body to the side of the tank, and a transparent inner liner had shifted to create a barrier between her and the rest of the tank. A humming sound came from the tank's thick metal base as pumps shifted the bacta from around Tishmaly into the other part of the tank. I stepped up to the doctor as the liquid drained around Tishmaly's form.

"I would have left her in longer, but she's fighting the sedation and I don't want to up the dose any further." I nodded as she glanced at me. "I think you should be prepared. Most patients have difficulty when they awaken, especially if they have sustained trauma like your friend."

"What do you mean, difficulty?"

"Confusion, disorientation, possible anger, uncontrolled muscular reaction, and a tendency to panic are the most common reactions. It's standard practice to restrain the patient and keep them partially sedated as they awaken to lessen the danger of panic or self-injury. Your friend is fighting the drugs, so I don't want to give her any more, but frankly, I'm concerned about her Force capabilities. Will physical restraints prevent her from lashing out with the Force?"

I looked at the Sith in concern. "She will still be able to draw on the Force, but the restraints will minimize some of what she can do with her powers."

"Well, I'm counting on you to counter the rest," the doctor replied as she began touching the control panel. The liquid was down below Tishmaly's knees and draining fast, the clear greenish-blue fluid running and dripping from her dark skin more viscous than water. The doctor stepped around me and pulled a medical box off the lower shelf, then she set it in the middle of the floor and pressed a button on the side. With a beep and whirling sound, the box split open and began to unfold. Within seconds it had expanded and twisted into a rectangular frame with a thick plastic liner inside; a makeshift tub. Doctor Nbyang then pulled the tub over to the tank where Tishmaly's body was pressed to the side.

I had to step back for her to adjust the tub and Pez let out a warble of interest. There were seams in the translucent panels of the tank, and when the doctor pressed a button on the controls, the panel next to Tishmaly's right side clicked and began to slide along the inside of the tank. The inner seal behind Tishmaly kept the contents of the tank from spilling out, and the panel stopped just wide enough for her body to pass through. The doctor reached up and released the locks on her supports.

"You're going to have to help me lift her," she said as she worked to remove the medical sleeve and waist cover. I stepped close to the tank, unsure what to do. The bacta had a sweet sort of earthy smell. "Careful," the doctor stated as she reached out and grabbed Tishmaly's shoulder, "the bacta is slick. Grab her legs and pull them out over the tub."

The doctor motioned with her hands and I reached out to take Tishmaly's calves. The bacta was slick on her skin, and she was warm to the touch; I hadn't considered that the tank had been heated. She felt very light as I drew her legs outward to hold her over the tub. The doctor lowered the supports and we guided Tishmaly's form into the tub. Her arms and legs shifted and jerked reflexively as we moved her. Once in a reclined position with her head and shoulders up on the side of the tub, the doctor unhooked the support mesh wrapped under Tishmaly's arms and set it aside. Then she released the mask over Tishmaly's face with a suction sound. Tishmaly flinched and seemed to gasp when the mouthpiece was removed.

"She's going to awaken rather quickly, so we have to move fast to get her into bed." The doctor reached down and pressed a button on the base of the bacta tank. A compartment slid open to reveal coils of hose, sponges, towels, and a spray bottle. The Doctor pulled out the largest hose and connected it to a fitting at the base of the tub, then she pulled out a hose with a nozzle on it and handed it to me with a sponge. "We have to get as much of the bacta off as possible, it has a sort of sticky, glue consistency when it dries and makes quite a mess."

The doctor pulled out a second hose with a nozzle on it and began to spray down Tishmaly's hair and face, wiping gently with a small cloth. I followed her lead and began at Tishmaly's feet. It was a strange and intimate experience to bathe her, and I sensed she would be mortified if she were awake. After a few minutes, the doctor seemed to notice my discomfort. "I can finish up here. Can you go and set up the cot and prepare her medical gown."

I left the tub and went to where the doctor had pointed. There was a box similar to the tub on the same shelf, so I pulled it out and set it on the floor opposite the doctor's cot. When I pressed the button there was an electrical whining sound and then the box split open similar to the tub earlier. Within moments it unfolded into a medical cot. On a high shelf, there were plastic packages that felt like they had material in them. I sorted through them to find a small size and then ripped it open. Inside was a crimson medical gown with black trim.

"Just lay that on the end of the bed," the doctor urged. I heard a moan and looked over to see Tishmaly shifting in the tub. "I need you to get the case of restraints down from the top shelf and set them out on the side of the cot."

Restraints sounded so unpleasant that it made me nervous, but I grabbed the box and took it to the cot. Inside were bands of woven straps with metal clasps on the ends. I pulled them out and set them on the floor along the side of the cot. While I was working the doctor finished with the hoses and got up with several towels in her hands. She came over to the cot and laid the towels out like sheets.

"We need to lift her and bring her to the bed," the doctor replied as she moved back to the tub. I followed, and she motioned for me to take Tishmaly's legs, which I did under the knees. We lifted Tishmaly and shuffled around the tub before moving her to the cot. I was surprised by how light she was and how frail she looked. It was hard to reconcile her appearance with her ability to defeat Master Ryen and Lord Cineratus. We laid her on the cot and the doctor worked quickly to dry her off. I took a smaller towel and rubbed her legs down. Once she was dry, I helped Doctor Nbyang slip the gown onto Tishmaly's body.

"There are pillows and blankets on the shelf where you found the gown," the doctor motioned.

I moved over to the cabinet and pulled out several pillows and blankets, opening the packages and fluffing the pillows before moving back to the cot. The doctor was strapping Tishmaly down, connecting one end of the strap to the frame of the cot, winding it around each leg above the ankle, and then connecting it to the other side of the cot. She did the same with Tishmaly's arms, and then put one strap across her waist. Tishmaly was beginning to twist around and make more noises. It didn't seem like she liked the straps, even though she wasn't fully awake yet. I gently lifted her head and slid one of the pillows under it to make her more comfortable. The doctor laid the blankets over Tishmaly, tucking them in on the sides.

"Okay," she sighed with a bit of relief. "Why don't you pull up a chair and attend to her while she awakens? I need to put a healing sleeve on her arm and clean up."

I took one of the folding chairs and moved it over to the cot near Tishmaly's head. As I sat down and watched the doctor bustle around, I could feel the Force begin to shift. Closing my eyes, I began to focus on the moment and realized that Tishmaly's Force aura was beginning to swell. She was waking up. Doctor Nbyang came over with a medical case and knelt next to me. As she worked to fit the sleeve over Tishmaly's wounded arm I began to worry about what would happen next. How would Tishmaly respond when she came to? Would I be able to calm her or contain her Force powers if she attempted to call on them? The doctor finished and tucked the blanket back over Tishmaly's arm, then moved off to clean up the area around the bacta tank.

I heard a moan and looked over at the Sith. It wouldn't be long before the questions worrying me were answered. Tishmaly's eyes were trying to open.