Chapter 45: Aftermath (Part 2)

I would recognize that foul, rubbery aftertaste among a thousand others. Through the bluish haze of the bacta tank, the silhouettes of droids scurrying back and forth are visible.

Well, still alive. That’s a start. Tilting my head slightly, I manage to see the second tank.

What a familiar, albeit faint, presence in the Force. Apparently, he also somehow managed to survive the blast. I hope only Kamma and I were this lucky. It would be a pity if the others survived too.

The mask began to fill with a sweetish gas. It seems I woke up too early. I could resist, of course, but why? It's better to follow the doctor’s orders as closely as possible. If they want to put me under, so be it.

The next awakening was far less pleasant.

A sharp jolt of pain in my arm and leg made my whole body jerk. If not for the restraints, I would have tumbled right off the table.

"Patient has regained consciousness," a mechanical female voice stated the obvious. "Should I sedate him?"

"No need, my dear, that is unnecessary. The procedure is practically finished. You are a strong young man, aren't you? Bear with us just a bit longer. We only have to remove a little more necrotic tissue. It will cause some minor discomfort."

Cold metal touched my side. If I could have, I would have arched my back like a bow. Better yet, I would have grabbed this sadist by the throat and snapped it.

The fingers of my remaining hand began to curl into a fist.

"Ahem, I wouldn't advise it. The Emperor would be disappointed by the loss of one of his personal specialists."

"Bitch."

"What was that?" From the corner of my eye, I could see a completely bald man rubbing his throat. "What an interesting word. I have never heard such a language before. Well then, back to the patient."

The next half hour was dominated by pain. Partly out of pride, partly out of a desire to deny that prick any satisfaction, I held on and didn't scream, even as he unhesitatingly cut away significant sections of damaged tissue.

At some point, I managed to slip into a meditation. I observed as if from the outside; anger and pain receded. Only peace and the acceptance of being. I just had to wait for the treatment to end. And afterward... emotions stirred in the back of my mind but were immediately shoved back. Not now.

"Hmm, you know, you are probably closer to the followers of the Light Side right now. Although some Sith used similar techniques as well. After all, there was more than one Order and more than one Code... Hmm, I'll have to dig through my memories. Maybe some of them are still alive. We could..."

"Could you just shut up?"

"Nope. Consider it part of your training. Maintain your concentration even when I'm rambling. It'll be good for you, yes..."

His words merged into white noise. My consciousness seemed to be falling into itself.

This continued until I felt the restraints loosen.

"Voilà. Ladies and gentlemen, invisible observers, this is one of my finest works. Most of the burns have been treated. The limbs are ready for prosthetic attachment. The bones are set and secured. Though the face... well, that's not my fault. Had you brought him here sooner, I could have saved the pretty boy's looks. As it is, I'll have to use additional tools. But that doesn't matter, does it? He's alive, capable of active duty, and that’s enough."

Silence was his only answer. But the lunatic didn't seem bothered.

"My dear, take the client to Ward 27. They'll bolt the prosthetics on there."

And off we went. Not for long, though. Soon, a bright white light hit my eyes, forcing me to squint. I really wanted to cover my face with my hand. However, I consciously didn't; who knows what state I'm in. One wrong move and they'd have to reassemble my bones all over again.

Cold hands lifted my frail body. Straps tightened, and I was smoothly hoisted up. The rubber mask tightened over my face once more.

Great. Another bacta bath for an indefinite period...

I couldn't sleep, nor could I sink into meditation, despite my best efforts. Thoughts ran in circles, and they all centered on one thing: what do I even do next?

If memory serves, the rank of Inquisitor is conferred immediately after rehabilitation. And what does that mean? Correct: a mountain of dirty work, eliminating Jedi and other undesirable elements. So when am I supposed to find a way to create a body for my Master?

"Now that is the right question, my apprentice. Although your priorities are a bit skewed. My body first, everything else second."

"Yeah, right. If you think it'll be easy to ignore my assignments, think again."

"Who said anything about that?! No, carry them out as much as you like. It's just that if we take a detour and pop into a few systems... looking for 'humanitarian aid' for distressed ancient entities, so to speak, that would be for the best, wouldn't it?"

"As long as it doesn't interfere with the primary mission, I suppose you're right."

"Splendid. Then lay there and soak, and I'll go back to remembering what else might be useful to us."

Right... And I still have to fit the search for Malik into all this somehow. Although my desire for revenge has cooled significantly over time, I still want to find him and give him what he deserves. Or at least go and spit on his grave.

To be honest, I was practically certain he was already dead. People of his profession and temperament don't live long. But there's always a chance.

And perhaps the most important question: at what point should I flee the Empire and the Emperor? By now, I had no doubt that we were merely expensive, important, but ultimately expendable assets in his plans. If necessary, we would be sacrificed.

The recent war made that crystal clear. I doubt he was unaware of his spy’s treachery. Which means we were sent like kamikazes to the slaughter. It’s a miracle I survived.

"Ahem, well yes, I am quite the miracle."

"Goddammit, Master! Stop looking through my thoughts all the time."

"Fine, fine, why such a reaction? I was only..."

He seemed to drift away smoothly until his voice faded completely.

Damn it. Whew. Where was I? Ah, yes. Probably only those closest to him are in relative safety. And even that's not a given. The Grand Inquisitor wants to get rid of Vader. I'm sure the latter knows it and is preparing. That means both are in danger.

Plus, if a very talented replacement is found, I'm sure Palpatine will gladly swap his pet monster for fresh, Force-sensitive meat.

So, the question remains: what do I do? Cling to the Empire until the bitter end, or disappear? The first is dangerous; the second, unless I can plausibly fake my death, carries consequences. Specifically, I could be hunted down just like the Jedi.

Though if I move beyond the Empire's sphere of interest and stay out of the way, they might forget about me. Overall, it’s not that difficult. The Outer Rim, Hutt Space... you can get lost anywhere.

And considering I have the credits, I could disappear in maximum comfort.

That leaves one open question: when exactly to bail? Most likely when the main forces are committed elsewhere. Hmm, I don't know why, but I'm certain Palpatine is going to have very big problems involving rebels.

Why? I don't know myself. Theoretically, a massive military machine should grind all its enemies into dust. But I'm sure the resistance won't fold; it seems they might even win. It sounds illogical, stupid, but it's true. Vague images even flash through my mind.

A vision through the Force? Very possibly. Well then, it's settled. Unless a better opportunity arises sooner, I'll vanish during the height of the conflict between the Empire and the rebels.

I heard the hum of machinery as it pulled me out of the tank. Cold mechanical hands caught me and laid my weary body onto a bed.

"Condition stable. Proceed with prosthetic implantation. Administer the drug."

A light prick in the neck, and the world blurred again.

******

"So, how do you like the new gear?"

Kamma was standing in the doorway. To be honest, he looked like he had one foot in the grave. We’ve been in a rehabilitation center on Coruscant for a week now.

They're nursing us back to health as if we were the Emperor himself. Maybe because we’re heroes of a non-existent war? By the way, the "non-existent" part isn't a joke. We were quite taken aback by the fact that absolutely no one is talking about it.

The news mostly consists of reports on the latest achievements of Imperial engineering, the capture of smuggler rings, and the like.

But even so, our feat was apparently highly valued. Cutting-edge medical equipment, gourmet food, supplements to accelerate the body's regenerative processes, all of it was at our disposal. As was an entire floor where, besides us, the doctors, and the droids, there was no one else at all.

Sometimes, though, it felt like you were completely alone. The droids didn't leave their rooms. The doctors tried not to hover. And our rehabilitation programs were completely different.

I had to get used to prosthetics. Learning to walk again, and generally re-learning how to control my body. The multiple injuries hadn't gone unpunished, and it would take time to recover. Even more to get back into peak shape. Although I was relatively lucky.

My friend got it much worse. Essentially, his entire rehabilitation consisted of constant stints in a bacta tank. Though from the offhand remarks of the doctors, it was clear things weren't that bad. They had seen worse cases in their practice.

When I heard that, a vivid thought flashed across the edge of my consciousness. But it immediately faded due to a bout of headache.

If I were to summarize the doctors' statements: my friend's situation isn't hopeless. He just needs to stick to a certain regimen, undergo periodic check-ups, and use bacta. Then everything will be fine.

But that’s not a matter of a single year. Right now, Kamma looked like he had risen from the dead. Though why "like"? That’s essentially what happened.

His skin had turned from vibrant blue to an ashen, pale shade. His eyes were shot through with bursts of ruptured capillaries. Sunken cheeks suggested he hadn't eaten in a month. New scars adorned his face. And that's just what was visible. Under his clothes, things were much worse.

He wasn't as lucky as I was, so now he wore a specialized suit designed to alleviate the discomfort from the burns.

It’s an experimental development, so the effect isn't as good as one might hope. If I need a month for rehab, he’ll need at least two, if not more.

"It’s pretty rough. I still can't quite get the hang of it."

My hand reflexively moved toward my throat. It was hard to get used to the mechanical sound of my own voice. My fingers met the cold surface of the metal mask covering half my face.

After all, my body hadn't fully recovered either. Without special tools, I could only manage a quiet whisper. Any significant strain brought pain. Even moving around normally was problematic right now.

If not for the Force, I would be bedridden. I wouldn't even be able to turn my head.

And the advanced technology did help. Now, a solid mask covered part of my face. A built-in speaker helped me communicate with others. Though now, looking out of one eye, the world was tinted in yellowish hues. Oh well, to hell with it. As a bonus, it covered the wounds; otherwise, you couldn't look in the mirror without shuddering.

As for the mechanical arm and leg, I can't say much yet. They feel a bit foreign, but that's more a matter of practice and habit.

"I’m telling you, try to imbue them with the Force. You’ll start feeling them as part of yourself much faster."

"I am, I am. But it’s difficult; the process isn't going as fast as yours. And besides, are we in a hurry? We have earned our rest."

"Well, true."

"Then don't nag me."

"You’re just mean. No compassion or understanding for a disabled person."

"Heh, in case you haven't noticed, I'm disabled too. Missing an arm and a leg. Now there are some pieces of iron dangling there."

"Oh, don't exaggerate. They're connected to your nerves. There should be practically no difference."

"The key word being 'practically.' Do you have any idea how strong the cognitive dissonance is?"

"Nope." Kamma’s smile, which used to look mischievous and spirited, now looked like the grin of some maniac. "Unlike you, I managed to keep my arm. Although, looking at it one way, it's hard to tell who’s more unlucky."

"By the way, yes, how exactly? I read the report from the stormtroopers who dug you out. Your arm was definitely separate from your body."

"Well, I had it with me, for one thing. And then, if you haven't forgotten, the Force allows you to hold things together. Honestly, even I can't really explain how it happened. But now, if something gets cut off, I can stick it back in place. At least temporarily, until the medics arrive. Now, if they don't sew it back or at least stabilize it, then yes. I could literally bury a part of myself."

"I don't even want to know how you tested that."

His face twisted as if he had eaten not one lemon, but a dozen all at once.

"I’d have been glad not to know it myself. The scientific approach is a wonderful thing, of course. But not when the experiments are being performed on you."

An oppressive silence hung in the room. Essentially, two young guys in their late teens, seventeen or eighteen, had become cripples. We couldn't even remember our exact ages ourselves.

But that’s not the point. Now we were both condemned to spend the rest of our lives coming to terms with our inadequacy. Yes, people live with it; yes, we put on a brave face and tried to joke around with each other like before. But the devil is always in the details.

I couldn't just walk up and slap my friend on the back with all my might like I used to. He, in turn, stopped offering me his hand. When we walk together, the Pantoran slows his pace. And the biggest topic for jokes became our miraculously preserved head of hair.

Yes, this will likely all pass, and we will live as before. But that understanding doesn’t make it any easier. Here and now, it was hard.

The silence was broken by an incoming call on the internal Inquisitorius frequency.

After all, as sad as it is to admit, there are perks to my partial robotization. A comlink was built into the mask covering half my face. So there was no need to carry extra hardware.

I have plenty of that now anyway. Ha!

"The Grand Inquisitor is expecting you both. Transport is in the main hangar. Do not delay."