MedStar_ Jedi Healer Part 18

"I was afraid you wouldn't come! What happened?"

To tell her he'd overslept would be a bad idea-this he knew almost instinctively. She'd be offended that he'd nearly missed her leave-taking for so trivial a reason. "Had a comm from HNE," he said. "Some talk about one of my articles from last year being made into a holo. Finally had to cut 'em off and run all the way to get here."

Amazing how easily the lie came out of him-amazing, and not a little bit dismaying. But it worked. She looked at him with starry-eyed love. "Come back to Sull.u.s.t soon," she whispered. She nuzzled his dewflaps one more time, and then turned and ran up the ramp.

Den moved back behind the field radius. The transport, silent save for the thrum of the repulsorlifts, rose quickly and disappeared into the glare of Drongar Prime.

Den walked slowly back to his kiosk. It had been so easy to lie to her. One could argue that it was a small incident, trivial and unimportant. One could argue that he'd lied out of beneficence, to save her from hurt feelings, One could argue all kinds of things, but none of them had any more validity or authenticity than a Neimoidian's handshake.

He was a scoundrel.

Eyar was sweet and sincere and trusting. He admired those qualities in her. But how long would it be before those same attributes filled him with impatience, or annoyance .. .

Or contempt?

He was hardly worthy of Eyar's admiration.

Den stopped in the middle of the compound. This was bad. He was having cold feet all the way up to his armpits, and he had no idea what to do about it.

He looked about. From where he was standing, he had two options, each of which lay in practically opposite directions. To his left was the cantina, with its amazing and highly therapeutic varieties of distillates. To his right was Klo Merit's office, where he could talk to the minder, or at the very least make an appointment to do so later. He needed to work this out.

How?

It took Den nearly two minutes of standing in the broiling sun before he turned and trotted off, a direction finally chosen.

30.

The throbbing of the medlifters, the shouts and cross talk of personnel running to the triage area, the screams and groans of the troopers-it was a litany of sounds and cries that Jos had responded to so many times that it seemed he could do it in his sleep by now.

Sleep. There was a laugh. The truncated periods of naps and dozing that the medics of Rimsoo Seven managed to snag on good days wasn't anything even close to good sleep hygiene. Of course, they had delta wave inducers, but cramming six to eight hours of uninterrupted cycling through the four stages and REM periods into a ten-minute nap just didn't replenish the brain the same way that real-time sleep did. The only solution was a proper night's rest, and that was a luxury seldom afforded.

Most of the time, the patients were clone troopers. For Jos, the hardest cases were not the completely alien species. They were the nonclone individual humans, because their anatomies were familiar to him, and yet subtly different from one another. When operating on such a human patient, he had to be very careful not to let his hands and brain fall back into familiar patterns that might work on a clone, but be just off enough to kill another human being. It had already happened once.

Truly alien individuals didn't come through the OT very often. The few who did were usually on Drongarin some kind of observation or clerical capacity. And they often provided most of the moments of both humor and horror.

The last time they'd had an unexpected incident like that had been when Jos had been drenched in the Nikto's life fluids. This time, it had been Uli who experienced the shock of the new.

The young surgeon had been working on a female Oni. The Oni were a fairly bellicose species, by all accounts, that hailed from the Outer Rim world of Uru. What this one was doing on Drongar no one seemed to know for sure-probably a mercenary. In any event, she had caught a projectile from a slugthrower, and Uli was probing for it when there was a blue-white flash, a sound like someone whacking a nest of angry wingstingers, and the young surgeon bounced backward and hit the wall.

He wasn't hurt that much, as was evidenced by a stream of curses. The usual buzz of instrument requests and readout quotes came to a stop. Threndy, the nurse who had been a.s.sisting, helped Uli to his feet.

"You okay, Uli? Need any help?" Jos called.

"I'm good, thanks. But what in the seven skies of Sumarin was that? I never-"

He was interrupted by a tripedal medical droid that came in, moved to Uli's side, and spoke briefly to him. Jos couldn't hear the conversation, but after a moment Uli and Threndy both broke into laughter.

"What's up?" Jos asked.

"Apparently, Oni females are electroph.o.r.etic, 1 must've brushed against a lobe of her capacitor organ during my probe." Uli shrugged. "Kinda wish I'd known about it sooner ..."

Jos chuckled. "Maybe we should keep her around in case our droids need a jump start."

His shift and Uli's were over at the same time, and, on impulse, Jos asked the younger man if he wanted to join them at sabacc. They'd been short several players the last couple of times. Tolk didn't show up anymore, and Bar-riss seemed lately to be too absorbed in "Jedi-ing," as Den put it, to sit in on every game. Even Klo had been too busy to put in more than an occasional appearance.

Uli grinned, a smile that spread over his entire face. "Sure!" he said enthusiastically.

"I've been hoping one of you'd ask."

Jos grinned back. "Glad to have you." It would be nice to have something approaching a full set of players again. On one level, though, he did feel bad about it. Uli was so open and guileless, he was sure to be eaten alive by the others. Sabacc could be a tough game.

Jos, Den, Barriss, and I-Five walked out of the cantina.

"Wow," Jos said. "Who knew?"

"Not you, I'm a.s.suming," Den replied. "Unless you're in cahoots with the little-"

"Hey, I had no idea he could play like that. I mean, look at him. He looks like a holorep for some nice wholesome farmworld somewhere." Jos shrugged. "Besides, we've been losing players. And I felt sorry for him."

"Yeah? Well, feel sorry for me. I lost three hundred creds in there." Den shook his head.

"Just a suggestion," I-Five said to Jos, "but the next time you're tempted to be altruistic in matters like these-don't."

"Aw, clamp your vocabulator," Den told him sourly.

"You're the only one who didn't lose his shirt. Not that you have one to lose."

"This is true. However, for the first time in some weeks I have not won anything, either."

Jos swatted futilely at a buzzing cloud of fire gnats. "Again I ask: what do you need money for? You're a droid."

"A fact that seldom escapes my notice, thank you. My need for money is quite simple-it costs large amounts of credits to travel. Especially as far as Coruscant."

"You're really going, then?" Barriss asked.

"Yes."

"But you're military property," Jos said. "Even if you could find a way to get transferred to Coruscant, you'll have limited freedom to search for Pa van's son."

"Also true. Which means," I-Five said calmly, "I might have to desert."

For a long moment the silence was unbroken save by the gnats. Then Jos said, "If you do, and you're caught, they'll wipe your memory down to the last quantum sh.e.l.l."

"If I'm caught. My time on Coruscant wasn't completely misspent-I know a variety of ways to slip through the cracks, especially in a megalopolis that large."

Den sucked on a hydropak for a moment, then said, "No doubt-but first you have to get off Drongar. And won't you arouse suspicion, traveling by yourself?"

"Droids, particularly protocol droids, make interstellar journeys all the time. We're not children. No one will look twice at me-especially if I carry the papers of an envoy en route to the Coruscant Temple on Jedi business."

He looked at Barriss. She looked back quite seriously.

"You are willing to risk everything-your very self-to do this?" she asked.

"It's something I promised Lorn many years ago, when his son Jax was first taken from him.

He asked me to make sure that, should anything ever happen to him, I would do my best to keep watch over Jax, even though he was under the protection of the Jedi. Lorn did not trust Jedi."

"I must remind you, I-Five, that the Jedi are sworn to uphold the laws of the Republic."

Barriss paused, then added, "There are times, however, when such laws come into conflict with the moral codes that we espouse. These conflicts often require difficult decisions to be made."

"And how do the Jedi make these decisions?"

"Well," she said with a slight smile, "some have been known to get drunk."

Jos laughed. He couldn't help it. And it felt good.

"It so happens," Barriss continued, "that I have something I wish to see delivered to the Temple on Coruscant as soon as possible. There are very few to whom I would entrust such a mission. If you would be willing ... ?"

I-Five said, "I would be honored."

31.

221olumn stared at the message on the desktop. It had taken several hours to decipher the c.u.mbersome triple code, but this time it had been worth the effort. The Separatists had gotten the missive sent from this location earlier. They had checked it out, and found that the bota was indeed losing its potency. Much quicker than the spy had expected, they had come to a decision: there would bean all-out attack on the Republic forces on Drongar in the next few days. Every mech and mercenary the other side could field would partic.i.p.ate in the battle, with but one purpose: to capture and collect the remaining bota for the Separatists. Many would die or be destroyed on both sides; much of the bota in the fields might be ruined-but the message, short as it was, was quite unambiguous and explicit. They were coming. This Rimsoo, along with all the others, would shortly be overrun. They would not be taking prisoners-at least, none they intended to keep alive.

Column stared at the note with labile emotions and mixed feelings. Yes, it had been expected, if not so soon, Yes, it would be a blow to the Republic, which was the reason that Column had come to be here in the first place. This didn't change the fact that the responsibility for the loss of life and materiel would be on Column's head.

The decrypted message, printed on a plastisheet tern-plast, started to curl at the edges.

In another minute the process, a combustible oxidation that began the moment the plastisheet was exposed to air, would evaporate the note into nothingness.

Just as the spy's third ident.i.ty would soon come to an end.

No matter, either way. The note had served its purpose-Column had committed the contents to memory. The war here would also be effectively over, quite soon. The bota would be collected or destroyed or mutated into uselessness-they all came to the same result, insofar as the combatants were concerned.

Column would be gone by the time the attack came in force. There would be a reason to visit MedStar, and the transport supposed to take the spy there would be ... diverted, so that it delivered its cargo to the Separatists' territory. Column would, of course, have the vouchsafe codes that would allow the ship to pa.s.s unscathed. Then, the jump to hypers.p.a.ce, and those left behind here would be no more than sad memories.

There would be another a.s.signment, on another world, soon enough. The war elsewhere would continue, and Column, under another false ident.i.ty, would go forth to continue to aid in the destruction of the Republic. However long the task took, it would happen, the spy knew. It would happen.

Column sighed. There was still much to be done here, and little time in which to accomplish it. Records, files, information, some of which might prove of value to Column's masters, all must be gathered and condensed into data packets one could slip into one's pocket or travel case. The end-at least here and now-was quite near.

It was nearly midnight. The long-snouted Kubaz costume was gone, and the fat suit was a lot of trouble to flesh up and don, so Kaird had his meeting with Thula dressed as The Silent monk. It was not as if anybody would see them together, so he wasn't concerned about the impropriety of speaking.

He stood with his back against a thin-walled storage shed just past the main dining hall, apparently alone, Thula was inside the shed, invisible to anybody who might be pa.s.sing in the hot tropical dark, but easily heard past a screened grille designed to let air circulate through the wall while keeping out the rain. "You have what I need?"

"Yes."

"Then you and your friend have your two days' warning. I suggest you use the time wisely."

Thula's voice was a soft, feral purr. "And the balance of our payment?"

"Look atop the inside ledge of the door's frame." There was a brief pause. Kaird's ears were keen enough to detect the sound of the Falleen's footfalls as she quickly moved to the door, paused a moment, then returned to the wall. He caught a faint glimmer of light through the mesh as she triggered the credit cube he'd left over the door and checked the holoproj for the sum it contained.

"Most generous," she said. "Where is my case?" he asked. "By now it's in your kiosk, next to your other luggage, It was a pleasure doing business with you, friend."

"You have a way to depart?"

"Yes. We've secured tentative pa.s.sage on a small transport vessel, leaving tomorrow. There is a pilot open to bribes."

"A surface-to-ship transport won't take you far."

"Far enough to obtain something else that will. Money is a powerful lubricant."

"Perhaps we'll met again someday," Kaird said.

"Perhaps," she said.

Kaird moved away from the shed and back to his kiosk. The door had been locked, but such locks as were used here were hardly proof against professional thieves, as Squa Tront and Thula were-among their many other talents.

The carbonite slab stood next to his other bag, disguised so as to resemble a moderately priced travel case. It was almost a perfect match to his luggage. Frozen in carbonite, the bota would keep until somebody triggered the melter. After that, it would have to be processed quickly to avoid the rapid rot that would follow, but that was not his problem.

Black Sun had the best chemists in the galaxy on tap; all he had to do was get it to them.

He hefted the case. It was heavy, nearly seventy kilos, he judged, but easily within his ability to pick up and carry.

Kaird felt better in that moment than he had since he had arrived on this pestilent planet. He had done the best he could, given the circ.u.mstances, and when all was said and done, he felt he would come out of it looking very good indeed. Just a couple more days of subterfuge, and then on to his homeworld and peace.

A well-deserved peace.

Jos woke up in the middle of the night, grainy from his most recent bout of drinking. He sat up on his cot and rubbed his eyes. He had dreamed of Tolk, and in the dream she had told him why she wanted to go away. Only now, he couldn't remember what she had said.

Jos stood, padded to the 'fresher, and splashed water on his face. He rinsed his mouth out. He had been drinking lately to such an extent that even the anti-veisalgia drugs that normally quashed hangovers were losing their effectiveness. He looked at himself in the mirror.

What a sad sight you are.

He sighed. No question about that.